Chapter Text
Harry didn’t wake up in the riches of Croydon that morning. In fact, he didn’t even wake up in the poors of Brighton. Even worse, not even the streets of Swindon. No, he didn’t even wake up in England. He woke up…..in America.
And not just America, too. He woke up in New York City.
“That’s okay,” the chud whispered to himself. “I like Zohran Mamdani. Maybe being American will be fine as long as I’m in New York!”
He walked up to a man on the street.
“Hello, Sir,” Harry smiled. “For no reason whatsoever, what’s the date today?”
“11th September 2001”
“Bomboclat.”
The man stared at him. “What??”
“I have a meeting at the world trade centre today!!” Harry cried. “Bye bye, thanks!” And he rushed off for his 8:46am meeting.
Unfortunately, being a fat fuck, Harry was late. He stopped at twenty donut shops, three ice cream stands, a McDonalds, a Burger King and, to balance it all out, had to stop to eat a lettuce leaf off the floor.
By the time he was done, it was 8:50am. “Oh no,” the chud exclaimed. “I’m gonna be late!” Instead of running, though, this time he did a little leisurely jog down the street, due to his exhaustion from eating.
He was a bit suspicious of all the fire trucks that were passing him but he shrugged. What a coincidence they were heading the same way. Maybe they were also late for their meetings.
Harry was really stupid. And wrong.
“Bomboclat…” he muttered.
Harry shed a tear. “I didn’t get to go to my meeting…” he cried. “God, now i have to go home!!!!”
He rolled back home, upset he didn’t get to make his meeting. Oh well. He called up Jack and started to complain.
“The building is on fire and now I can’t go to my meeting,” Harry sobbed. “I can’t be a chud, American AND unemployed!”
“There, there,” said Jack down the phone. “I can get you on for this weekly slop Sunday. Don’t fret, I can employ you.”
“No!” said Harry. “I want a REAL JOB. I don’t want to be your weekly slop guest!”
“Not trying to be funny, mate, but you’re currently unemployed with no source of income. Unless you want to be homeless like Jonnaay, then I think you better come on my slop Sundays. Capeesh?”
Harry sighed. “Finnnnneeee.”
The chud cried for the rest of the day. This couldn’t be happening. How could he have been reduced to being Jack Manifold’s slop Sunday guest?? At least he wouldn’t have to be homeless in Swindon, it could always be worse.