Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Wow, I'm total blown away. I was expecting about two or three reviews but I got six! That's great, considering my HP fics don't do so well. -grins- Also, please don't be offended if I get the temperature in England wrong, I'm going on what it was live when I lived there, and the summer was kinda cold (at least for me, because I'm used to like at lest the 80s in July, if not much hotter in August In fact, this summer where I lived it got to the 100s, which is big cuz I go live in Michigan, so I tent to up-play the weather there because I am very proud of my state's weather)).

Beat Treatment

To put it simply, Vernon was stressed. He had not smoked on the eight and a half hour flight from London, England to Detroit Michigan (like said before no smoking on the plan and the flight attended would hit him on the head with a newspaper if he tried). He didn't smoke on his two-hour taxi ride from the airport to his hotel in Lansing (not to say he didn't try, but the driver got really mad at Vernon and a mad Detroit it scary no matter what). He didn't smoke during the half hour room mix-up at the hotel (the manager said that it was bad for him and tried to get him to eat some carrots, said they might help him with his weight problem, Vernon was offended). Vernon finally checked into his smoking room at nine PM though to him it felt like one AM.

Vernon had gone almost eleven hours without smoking. It made him irritable and cranky and he was tired. All he wanted was to go to sleep, which he did after smoking half his half a pack.

The next morning Vernon woke at eight sharp (still suffering from jet lag), he took a moment to light one up and proceeded to go about his morning rituals. He left his room right at eight forty-five, got into the elevator (even though he was on the second floor and had to knock over a little old lady with a cane in order to get in said elevator) and went into the hotel lobby.

Vernon, being an alien to the city, was not familiar with said city. He decided, after a few minutes of really hard thinking, that he needed a map.

Vernon walked over to the hotel help center (completely ignoring the bright red sign advertising the maps right underneath it by where he was standing). There he politely asked the lady behind the counter for a city map.

The lady left for a moment to retrieve the map. While she was gone Vernon noticed the 'no smoking' sign that randomly hung on a wall. When the lady returned and gave Vernon his map he said this off hand comment;

"You Americans have such strict rules. There are hardly any good places to smoke a fag."

Vernon turned to leave and missed the look of utter horror the lady sent him.

Now, since Vernon was in a for the first time in his small, stupid life, he decided to make the best of it. He decided to walk to the restaurant where he was meeting the owners of the small drill company.

Big mistake.

In England summer heat ranges from about 50 to 70 degrees fahrenheit. Vernon was not in England. Vernon was in America, or more specifically Michigan. Weather there is unpredictable and changes every five minutes. It's just a fact of life. Some summers in the Great Lake state can get up in the 100's. Others barley make it to the 70's. This summer was one of the hotter ones; it was about 90 degrees outside.

Vernon, being the idiot he is, made the foolish assumption that the weather in Michigan and the weather in England would be the same.

He really is an idiot, isn't he?

Any ways, back to Vernon and his stupidity.

After finishing one block Vernon was abet red. By the second block he was sweating. On the third he was panting. In the middle of the fifth block people where giving him wide berth because he smelled.

By the time Vernon made it to Pistachio's, the restaurant, he could barley talk he was panting so hard, his cloths were quit wet and he was very, very red in the face (one might feel sorry for the poor idiot if one wasn't laughing so hard).

Over all, he looked like a pig in an oven.

Vernon stumbled into a near by bathroom (though at first he went into the woman's, then into the man's) to freshen himself up. After all, it simply would not do to look like a pig in an oven in a fancy expensive restaurant trying to get a good deal on a company.

Vernon, for all his producesness, anger, issues, ugly ect, was a semi smart man. That is, unless it had to do with his whale, er, son, then he was a dumb and stupid has a squirrel (or a peacock, depending on you point of view). Any way, the only reason he had gotten so far in life and was semi smart was because he knew all about sucking up. He could suck up to a person who hated suck ups. A nifty talent is one thought about it, but total wasted on him. Though it was probably all her knew and his only life skill.

Any way, Vernon knew how to suck up and sweet talk. That's about all he did in the restaurant. That's the only reason he got such a good deal on the drill company.

When the meeting was over Vernon took a taxi back to the hotel. When he walked into the hotel lobby he was very surprised when the lady behind the counter gave him the finger.

This couldn't ruin Vernon's good day though. He went to his room to smoke and sleep off his jetlag.


The next day Vernon dressed in a button up tee shirt and slacks, wanting to go shopping for his wife and whale, er, son and not wanting to look like a pig in an oven.

Plus, his pack was all gone.

Vernon went out to see the sites (none of which he liked and complained loudly about them and almost got punched in the face) and buy gifts for his wife and whale, er son.

All the while he asked; "Do you know where I could buy a fag? I really need one."

Most people stared at him in shock, then walked away muttering. Other's scowled at him and one gave him the finger. A few cursed at him. One lady even went as far as to slap him and comfort her crying friend.

Vernon could not understand why he was getting these sort of responses, but being the idiot he is he kept asking.

He's lucky he didn't stay in Detroit or he'd be dead by now. But that's unlucky for the rest of us.

Any way, Vernon finally found a place to by a pack. He asked the cashier where a good place to smoke a fag was.

Imagine, if you will, his surprise when the cashier chased him out of the gas station swinging a baseball bat.

Vernon had dropped his camel pack.

This continued for the rest of the week. Shopping, asking for fags, getting cursed and beaten, getting fags, asking where to light them, getting chased and beaten, losing the packs, then starting all over again.

They say that shock treatment works on rodents and some dogs. Beat treatment must have worked on Vernon (because he was about as smart as a rodent or a dog, if not stupider). He never smoked again.

... Or went to America.

Okay, in England they call cigarettes fags, and in America fag is slang for a gay person. I have nothing against gays, I though have something against Vernon and thought this would make a funny story.

I-sometimes-cry- Glad ya liked it, and thanks for being my first reviewer!

Prongsthewhitehart- Woot! I love random. Glad cha liked it and thanks for your review.

SassyCassie08- Jeez what? Thanks for your review...

Firebenderchaseyoung- Glad you thought it was hilarious. Thanks for your review.

Kathrina CH- Ha, I think you're one of the first to call any of my stories intriguing. Thank for your review.

Gnos fo Ytinrete- Yay! Some one called my plot interesting. That's a first. Thanks for your review.