Sirius Black and the Waxing Experience
It lay on the side of the road, warm from the road and a day in the sun. Sirius Black prodded it with a paw then watched a fly whiz out of it. There was even a maggot in it. Repulsed, he decided that he'd had enough of disgusting food. The delightful smells of things undreamt of drew him away from the road kill and towards an open window.
What he wouldn't give for a hearty meal - but he'd settle for the cooling bake resting on the window sill. He drew himself onto his hind legs but couldn't quite reach it. He dropped back down again and looked hopefully upwards. When it didn't fall down, Sirius thought to himself *what the hell* and morphed into the disturbing convict sight that he was.
"Oh, pie," he sighed and tore at it hungrily.
The pie made of a mess of his unshaven face and he hoped about trying to bat out crust from his beard. Cursing, he decided to find a way to shave it off. He needed a shaver - and NOW!
The general store was quiet and the Muggle standing behind the counter had an extreme look of boredom on it. He watched as a haggard man stumbled in through the door and made a beeline for the closest aisle.
"Can I help you, sir?" deadpanned the Muggle.
Sirius poked a head over the tinned baked beans. "I'm fine."
The convict snuck a knife into his robes and went along the line. He almost had a heart attack when he saw a normal, Muggle poster with his face on it. There was a string of numbers below. Sirius shrugged then turned and grabbed a razor. He went close to the counter to check out some weird sheets he found.
"Sir," the Muggle brightened, "those will do much better than the razor."
Sirius had just picked up whatever it was and tried to use it like a tissue. It got stuck to his beard.
The Muggle raised his eyebrows. "I'm really sorry."
"Whatever for?" Sirius demanded, going to pull it off.
A loud yell was heard in the street outside. Shoppers walking by peered at the general store curiously.
Inside, Sirius Black was screaming bloody murder. The funny little sheets had been instant wax and had quite painfully tore off half his beard. Waving a razor and looking very, very dangerous, he made for the terrified Muggle whose eyes flicked from the customer to the poster nearby.
The Muggle went for his phone.
By the time he'd looked up again, the convict was gone.
"A Muggle sighted Black?" Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic repeated excitedly. "Excellent! What happened?"
The Auror glanced down the report which was ready to be sent to the Daily Prophet.
"Apparently, the convict purchased a dangerous substance and threatened the Muggle with a dangerous weapon used to skin hippopotamuses. Black also tried to carry out his threat, but the Muggle turned the dangerous substance on him which, er, reportedly ripped off his bright purple wig and burned through his hair to make him look like a monk. The skinner instrument was then used to take of a chunk of Black's nose which, by the sounds of it, makes him look like Mad-Eye Moody."
Fudge tapped his quill on some parchment thoughtfully. "Was the Muggle a woman or a man?"
"Well," coughed the Auror, "the Muggle said that Black attacked him due to his sexual preferences and transvestite behaviour."
"Call it a woman," Fudge told him, "and get a search warrant for Mad-Eye Moody's house."