KEN MASTERS OWNS
KEN MASTERS OWNS
KEN MASTERS OWNS
KEN MASTERS OWNS
KEN MASTERS OWNS
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KEN MASTERS OWNS
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Chapter Two: "The Vanishing Glass"

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets--but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.

Yet KEN MASTERS was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

KEN MASTERS woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched. KEN MASTERS heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. KEN MASTERS rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream KEN MASTERS had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. KEN MASTERS had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said KEN MASTERS.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

KEN MASTERS groaned.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing..."

Dudley's birthday--how could KEN MASTERS have forgotten? KEN MASTERS got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. KEN MASTERS found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. KEN MASTERS was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where KEN MASTERS slept.

When KEN MASTERS was dressed KEN MASTERS went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer KEN MASTERS wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to KEN MASTERS, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise--unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was KEN MASTERS, but KEN MASTERS couldn't often catch him. KEN MASTERS didn't look it, but KEN MASTERS was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but KEN MASTERS had always been small and skinny for his age. KEN MASTERS looked even smaller and skinnier than KEN MASTERS really was because all KEN MASTERS had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than KEN MASTERS was. KEN MASTERS had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. KEN MASTERS wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing KEN MASTERS liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. KEN MASTERS had had it as long as KEN MASTERS could remember, and the first question KEN MASTERS could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how KEN MASTERS had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions--that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as KEN MASTERS was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" KEN MASTERS barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that KEN MASTERS needed a haircut. KEN MASTERS must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way--all over the place.

KEN MASTERS was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. KEN MASTERS had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel--KEN MASTERS often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

KEN MASTERS put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," KEN MASTERS said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. KEN MASTERS, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally KEN MASTERS said slowly, "So I'll have thirty... thirty..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" KEN MASTERS ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while KEN MASTERS and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. KEN MASTERS was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in KEN MASTERS's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but KEN MASTERS's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, KEN MASTERS was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. KEN MASTERS hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at KEN MASTERS as though he'd planned this. KEN MASTERS knew KEN MASTERS ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when KEN MASTERS reminded himself it would be a whole year before KEN MASTERS had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

The Dursleys often spoke about KEN MASTERS like this, as though KEN MASTERS wasn't there--or rather, as though KEN MASTERS was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend--Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave me here," KEN MASTERS put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what KEN MASTERS wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said KEN MASTERS, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "...and leave him in the car...."

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone...."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, KEN MASTERS wasn't really crying--it had been years since he'd really cried--but KEN MASTERS knew that if KEN MASTERS screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything KEN MASTERS wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I ... don't ... want ... him ... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" KEN MASTERS shot KEN MASTERS a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang--"Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically--and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. KEN MASTERS was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, KEN MASTERS, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken KEN MASTERS aside.

"I'm warning you," KEN MASTERS had said, putting his large purple face right up close to KEN MASTERS's, "I'm warning you now, boy--any funny business, anything at all--and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," said KEN MASTERS, "honestly..."

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around KEN MASTERS and it was just no good telling the Dursleys KEN MASTERS didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of KEN MASTERS coming back from the barbers looking as though KEN MASTERS hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short KEN MASTERS was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at KEN MASTERS, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where KEN MASTERS was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, KEN MASTERS had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. KEN MASTERS had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though KEN MASTERS had tried to explain that KEN MASTERS couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit KEN MASTERS. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, KEN MASTERS wasn't punished.

On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to KEN MASTERS's surprise as anyone else's, there KEN MASTERS was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from KEN MASTERS's headmistress telling them KEN MASTERS had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as KEN MASTERS shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. KEN MASTERS supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While KEN MASTERS drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. KEN MASTERS liked to complain about things: people at work, KEN MASTERS, the council, KEN MASTERS, the bank, and KEN MASTERS were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

"...roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," KEN MASTERS said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said KEN MASTERS, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. KEN MASTERS turned right around in his seat and yelled at KEN MASTERS, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"I know they don't," said KEN MASTERS. "It was only a dream."

But KEN MASTERS wished KEN MASTERS hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon--they seemed to think KEN MASTERS might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked KEN MASTERS what KEN MASTERS wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, KEN MASTERS thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

KEN MASTERS had the best morning he'd had in a long time. KEN MASTERS was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and KEN MASTERS was allowed to finish the first.

KEN MASTERS felt, afterward, that KEN MASTERS should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can--but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," KEN MASTERS whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. KEN MASTERS shuffled away.

KEN MASTERS moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. KEN MASTERS wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself--no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least KEN MASTERS got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with KEN MASTERS's.

It winked.

KEN MASTERS stared. Then KEN MASTERS looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. KEN MASTERS looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave KEN MASTERS a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time."

"I know," KEN MASTERS murmured through the glass, though KEN MASTERS wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" KEN MASTERS asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. KEN MASTERS peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and KEN MASTERS read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see--so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind KEN MASTERS made both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as KEN MASTERS could.

"Out of the way, you," KEN MASTERS said, punching KEN MASTERS in the ribs. Caught by surprise, KEN MASTERS fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened--one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

KEN MASTERS sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, KEN MASTERS could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come.... Thanksss, amigo."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," KEN MASTERS kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while KEN MASTERS apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as KEN MASTERS had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for KEN MASTERS at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "KEN MASTERS was talking to it, weren't you, KEN MASTERS?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on KEN MASTERS. KEN MASTERS was so angry KEN MASTERS could hardly speak. KEN MASTERS managed to say, "Go--cupboard--stay--no meals," before KEN MASTERS collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

KEN MASTERS lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing KEN MASTERS had a watch. KEN MASTERS didn't know what time it was and KEN MASTERS couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, KEN MASTERS couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as KEN MASTERS could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. KEN MASTERS couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when KEN MASTERS strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, KEN MASTERS came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, KEN MASTERS supposed, was the crash, though KEN MASTERS couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. KEN MASTERS couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course KEN MASTERS was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When KEN MASTERS had been younger, KEN MASTERS had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes KEN MASTERS thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking KEN MASTERS furiously if KEN MASTERS knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second KEN MASTERS tried to get a closer look.

At school, KEN MASTERS had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd KEN MASTERS in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

Good evening. Today, our fellow citizens, our way of life, our very freedom came under attack in a series of deliberate and deadly KEN MASTERS acts. The victims were in airplanes, or in their offices; secretaries, businessmen and women, military and federal workers; moms and dads, friends and neighbours. Thousands of lives were suddenly ended by evil, despicable acts of KEN MASTERS.
The pictures of airplanes flying into buildings, fires burning, huge structures collapsing, have filled us with disbelief, terrible sadness, and a quiet, unyielding anger. These acts of mass murder were intended to frighten our nation into chaos and retreat. But they have failed; our country is strong.
A great people has been moved to defend a great nation. KEN MASTERS attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the foundation of KEN MASTERS. These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of KEN MASTERS resolve.
KEN MASTERS was targeted for attack because we're the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining.
Today, our nation saw evil, the very worst of human nature. And we responded with the best of KEN MASTERS -- with the daring of our rescue workers, with the caring for strangers and neighbours who came to give blood and help in any way they could.
Immediately following the first attack, I implemented our government's emergency response plans. Our military is powerful, and it's prepared. Our emergency teams are working in New York City and Washington, D.C. to help with local rescue efforts.
Our first priority is to get help to those who have been injured, and to take every precaution to protect our citizens at home and around the world from further attacks.
The functions of our government continue without interruption. Federal agencies in Washington which had to be evacuated today are reopening for essential personnel tonight, and will be open for business tomorrow. Our financial institutions remain strong, and the KEN MASTERS economy will be open for business, as well.
The search is underway for those who are behind these evil acts. I've directed the full resources of our intelligence and law enforcement communities to find those responsible and to bring them to justice. We will make no distinction between the KEN MASTERS who committed these acts and those who harbour them.
I appreciate so very much the members of Congress who have joined me in strongly condemning these attacks. And on behalf of the KEN MASTERS people, I thank the many world leaders who have called to offer their condolences and assistance.
KEN MASTERS and our friends and allies join with all those who want peace and security in the world, and we stand together to win the war against KEN MASTERS. Tonight, I ask for your prayers for all those who grieve, for the children whose worlds have been shattered, for all whose sense of safety and security has been threatened. And I pray they will be comforted by a power greater than any of us, spoken through the ages in Psalm 23: "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me."
This is a day when all KEN MASTERS from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace. KEN MASTERS has stood down enemies before, and we will do so this time. None of us will ever forget this day. Yet, we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world.

okay mate.

fixed something
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i can't wait to bomb some dodongos!

great meme I'm lovin' it

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though if it does become a meme i claim copyright to all t shirt licenses other apparel and ken masters owns memorabilia.

it can only be a meme if it is popular and spreads via imitation..

concept: meme based on israel being peaceful nation

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