“Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone”
“Now let’s get yer wand,” Hagrid mentioned, opening the door to the shabby, dusty store. Harry couldn’t consider it. A magic wand!
As soon as inside, they had been shocked to see a Gringotts Goblin behind the counter. “The place’s Ollivander?” Hagrid requested.
“The bushes that they used to carve the wands from don’t develop anymore,” the goblin replied. “It’s too scorching. The financial institution is repossessing this enterprise and shutting it. Oh, and Ollivander isn’t right here; he tried to start out a brand new store up north and misplaced all of it in an unseasonable flood.”
“You could possibly at all times get a wand made out of compressed bugs at Bugstick,” the goblin added, with a shrug. “However these don’t work for shit.”
“Twilight”
The solar performed off Edward’s chiselled, good-looking face, which sparkled like diamonds. “I like you,” he murmured into Bella’s ear.
It was 100 and sixteen levels in Forks, Washington. A smog of unbreathable air, thick with carbon monoxide and ash, rolled by city. Most days it was not possible to go outdoors with out an oxygen masks.
“I like you, too,” Bella mentioned, coughing calmly.
“The Phantom Tollbooth”
“So that you see,” the Spelling Bee mentioned, “all of the phrases on this planet are from Dictionopolis. We develop them in these very orchards—o-r-c-h-a-r-d-s.”
“Phrases don’t develop on bushes!” Milo mentioned, with fun.
“Ah, however they do,” the Bee mentioned, sadly. “And in our quickly warming local weather the alphamites that eat these bushes are thriving. In the event that they proceed to ravage these orchards, it might quickly spell the top of all language—l-a-n-g-u-a-g-e.”
“Certainly one thing could be accomplished!” Milo cried.
“We’re coping with a number of catastrophes without delay right here, man,” the Spelling Bee replied, defensively. “The Sea of Information flooded our scientific services, we’ve got hundreds of Lethargian local weather refugees, and our new eco-fascist bee authorities threw all of the bee scientists in jail.”
Milo started to weep as he realized that not even language would escape the ravages of the local weather disaster.
“Charlie and the Chocolate Manufacturing unit”
With an unlimited squelch, Augustus Gloop shot up the chocolate pipe, screaming all of the whereas.
On the chocolate river’s far shore, the diminutive Oompa Loompas started to sing a wierd, mournful tune:
“Cloudy with a Probability of Meatballs”
The syrup hurricane, viscous and deadly, stalled out over the city of Chewandswallow for 3 days. The storm shattered home windows, decreased homes to piles of tinder, and topped all of it off with pure maple syrup, ten inches thick.
ChewCorp, in the meantime, continued to wage a multimillion-dollar disinformation marketing campaign supposed to distract the general public from the truth that its powdered-sugar emissions had triggered the catastrophic climate. The ChewCorp execs had identified what was coming for many years however selected to reap big earnings on the expense of their fellow-humans.
Regardless of their complicity, the ChewCorp brass had been in a position to escape the worst results of the climate. When brownie slides buried the native energy plant, the rich turned on the mills of their mansions. When ice-cream melts swept nuclear waste into the water reservoir, they retreated to mountain resorts.
The townspeople sobbed bitterly as they realized that even their gastro-meteorological paradise couldn’t survive the solipsistic evil of company greed.
“The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”
As soon as, there have been 4 youngsters, named Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. They had been all consumed by a plague of historical ailments unleashed from the melting Siberian permafrost.
The tip.
