The Dark Lord Goes Wig Shopping
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter!
Summary: Voldemort might be able to live without love or friends, but there's one thing he can't live without… HAIR!
Dressed in a nifty black suit, the Dark Lord Voldemort strolled into a wig shop in Muggle London. With the majority of the Wizarding World denying his return, now was the perfect time to look for a new disguise.
As a teenager named Tom Riddle, he had been blessed with hair. Now, in the body fashioned for him by his loyal servant, Wormtail, he was completely bald. At first, being bald had been kind of sexy. But almost a year later, being bald had become boring. He wanted hair again.
It never ceases to amaze me how the people who have hair neglect it… He shivered at the thought of one of his Death Eaters, Snape, who had the greasiest, ugliest hair he'd even seen.
Having a wig would not only give him back hair, but it had the added bonus of keeping his head warm and providing a disguise. One could never go wrong with a disguise.
And it's always so freaking cold here. When I take over the world, I'm going to make it all warm and tropical. Beaches and tequila for everyone!
He smiled at the idea of sitting on a sunny beach, his Death Eaters sunning themselves around him, and Muggles catering to his every whim.
But first, he needed hair.
"Hello there, sir. How can I help you?" asked an overly-cheery Muggle clerk.
Yes, you may tell me how to exterminate useless persons such as yourself…
"I need hair. Get me hair!"
"What color?"
"I don't know," he frowned. "I just want hair!"
"I see. Now with your complexion…"
"Get me hair! NOW!" Voldemort bellowed.
"Humph!" the salesclerk said. Then under her breath as she walked towards a wig rack she hissed, "The nerve of some people! Acting like they're the King of England!"
Actually, I'm King of the World! Get used to it!
She collected a few wigs and tossed them at him. "Well, there's hair!"
He caught the hair-bombs and wrinkled his face where a nose would've been—if he had anything other than silts that is.
How rude!
He tried on the various wigs, glaring in the mirror. He looked like a girl with the long hair the clerk had tossed at him. The Dark Lord is most certainly not a girl!
Voldemort carelessly tossed the wigs on the floor; taking pains to step on them with his shiny shoes. "I still haven't gotten hair!"
The clerk, whose arms had been crossed, rolled her eyes and threw another wig at him. "Try that!"
He adjusted the hair, glanced in the mirror, and tossed it down to his discard pile. "No!"
"This one!"
The two went back-and-forth tossing wigs, each growing more frustrated by the moment.
Stupid, incompetent Muggles! All I want is hair! Is it really that hard?!
"Give me hair! NOW!"
"Fine, Mr. Grumpy Face!" She started throwing armloads of wigs at him. It was a wig-missile war!
"You annoying little Muggle from hell! Just give me some frigging hair!"
The missiles increased in velocity and number. Voldemort ducked; his anger boiling.
It's time to teach you Muggles some lessons!
He raised one hand and the Muggle clerk disappeared in a puff of smoke. Grinning, he sorted through the sea of wigs and picked up a dark one.
He pulled on the dark-colored wig with a little whoosh, or a curl, in the front. It was the same hairstyle he'd had as Tom Riddle. He admired himself in the mirror, smirked, and stepped towards the door.
Pulling out his wand, he muttered "Incendio!" and watched with a grin as the wig shop burst into flames.
"Burn, baby, burn!" he shouted with glee as he skipped down the street, his new wig firmly stuck on his bald head.
Now I shall reduce this puny world to rubble! Mwhahahahahahah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Author's Notes:
Boy has it been forever since I wrote a parody. This one was a request from Dolly for her 16th birthday! Happy b-day, Dolly!
Enjoy the insanity!