Harry was having an awesome dream, with fun and laughter and everything. Suddenly Voldemort appeared and got all preachy. He woke up with (his scar hurting and) a stomachache. He wondered if perhaps it was because he drank chalav s’tam milk the day before. He went to go ask Flitwik for a charm to cure it. He knocked on the gryffin, which asked him “is it heresy to ask which came first, the pheonix or the flame?”
“What do you mean,” said Harry. “How can a question be heresy?” “Debatable,” said the gryffin, but allowed him access anyway. Flitwik said he didn’t know any good charms for stomachaches; Harry had to go to the hospital.
“But I can’t step into Maimonides,” said Harry. “It’s so disrespectful that they named a hospital that.”
He pondered his predicament and decided to go back in time and not drink the milk, but the whole time travel doesn’t make any sense, and anyway in the present he already had a stomachache and he couldn’t make it go away. UnBumping the thread about chalav s’tam didn’t help, and Harry didn’t know how to make himself vomit.
He decided to go out and RUN MOVE GO which had proven remedies (and maybe he’d also find his meds) but first he had to get his hat. Thing is, it was a chillul hashem to wear a hat that was worn by an apostate. But then he remembered Kingsley’s words echoing in his ears: She wouldn’t care if he wore the hat.
He obligingly put on his hat and left. But it was so windy that his hat kept flying off. Too bad he didn’t have a shtreimel.
The walk didn’t help; it just made his trousers, or perhaps breeches, rip.
He did a serious cheshbon hanefesh and wondered if maybe there would have been smoke alarms, his whole stomachache would have been avoided. Yes! That was it. He should go to Fallsburg, where they have smoke alarms. Anyone know what they’re learning there next z’man? He zapped his tissues into thin air and packed his bags.
Now everyone’s going to complain that I shouldn’t make a joke out of such a serious matter. what a half-crazy world.