Harry sat on the plastic floor, leaning against the plastic wall of his plastic prison. He stared at the plastic doors that held him captive with a not-so-plastic lockset in place and for the first time in his life Harry truly despised plastic. The word plastic left a plastic taste on his tongue, the plastic bucket on the floor which he had already relieved himself into twice was making him feel a plastic sort of ill, one reminiscent of when you would smell the burning plastic scent and feel the plastic coat you from the inside out in an attempt of turning you into a plastic person. Yes, Harry Potter was sick of plastic. And the Author was sick of writing plastic and the reader was sick of reading plastic. Everyone despised the Dursleys for the plastic cell that suddenly everyone was trapped in, and although Harry unknowingly had many many people by his side also sick of the plastic that filled their minds he still felt completely alone in the plastic shed that resided in number four Privet Drive.
Though Harry was aware that he was not as alone as he felt. Hedwig was staring at Clarence with a stern look as if debating to herself whether or not the small boy would be angry at her if she ate the creature. Clarence was staring back at the owl as if daring her to try it. Harry covered himself up with his long Hufflepuff cloak and thanked himself for not changing into muggle clothes on the train. He laid down on the plastic floor and covered up with the cotton garment. A cockroach ran over Harry's hand and he begrudgingly sat up to toss it into the tank of the small dinosaur. Thankful for the meal Clarence pounced on the bug and began to tear it apart with his sharp claws. Hedwig watched the action with equal parts disgust and envy. Harry lied down and grimaced as his own stomach let out a low growl. It had been three days so far and were it not that he would be going home in another four Harry would have burned the damn shed down already. He licked his dry lips with a sigh, his parched throat was a bitter reminder that though he could survive a month without food, he could only survive a week without water. It was that sorrowful thought that sent Harry into a comforting unconsciousness, his prayer that he could make it until Monday haunting the despised plastic shed.
