The fidgety old miner clapped and rattled

The fidgety old miner clapped and rattled and said, "There's gold in them thar hills." He was pointing at my Aunt Shirley. The thing about the Miner and Aunt Shirley is

they're pushing 80 & missing most teeth, so "gumming" came to mind when they kissed, & their joints creaked more than the bed during love-making but the Miner & Aunt Shirley

still had the energy to go at it like rabid dogs in heat, slobbering all over each others massive rolls of wrinkly skin and flesh that pooled out over the bed like a mound of

beached whales. She couldn't resist the way he brought her candlelit breakfast in bed. But when she knocked over the candle, they were engulfed in sage-and-citrus-scented flames.

He hastly tried to put out the flaming feta omlette with the amber 500-count egytian cotton pillow case but it only fanned the flames to the Mongolian yurt rug. She tried the door

, but unfortunately, it was tied with Celtic knots and those things don't come undone when you're in a panic. Harry already looked like a torch, flames shooting from his hair. She

decided to make the best of it. She found a stick and stuck a marshmallow through it. By this time Harry was completely engulfed in flames, but her impromptu smore was coming along

nicely. Harry was screaming and flailing his arms, trying to remember the spell for water while the Hungarian Horntail (who set him on fire) flew away with one of Hermione's smores

Naturally, Hermione was seriously pissed at Harry's burning corpse that the dragon stole one of her smores. She kicked it in the head, and turned to Ron and said, "Oh shit, we're

in some sort of adult-themed fanfiction, aren't we?" Ron looked her up and down with a lascivious gleam in his eyes and said, "Well, let's make the most of this then, shall we?"