Lord Voldemort paced the Persian rug in the office of His futuristic subterranean complex, a terrifying scowl on the snake-like face. Wormtail bowed and scraped and begged before Him, his face a mask of fear. Lord Voldemort was not happy.
"Three days!" He screeched, eyes blazing red. "Three days I've waited for it, but it has not come!"
"My Lord," Wormtail ventured, shaking. "Maybe they are having difficulty tunnelling through the earth. This is a futuristic subterranean complex, after all."
He squeaked like a rat when Lord Voldemort bore down on him with His full fury. "You dare suggest such things? I ordered it to come, so it should come. It is my right!"
"Yes, my Lord," Wormtail trembled, "I wasn't questioning your right, Lord, I was merely suggesting that they had run into difficulty."
Lord Voldemort stilled, his back to his terrified servant. "You think it encountered obstacles on the way down?" he inquired in a tone that only mildly hinted at steel.
"It could be, my Lord," Wormtail shifted from one foot to the other nervously. "I mean, there's the giant digging snakes…"
"Necessary for guarding purposes."
"…and the enormous underground lakes of molten magma…"
"I provided a boat."
"Wooden, my Lord. And then there's the Bottomless Pit with No Bottom Only Rik Mayall…"
"I got him perfectly cheaply from a Muggle agent in London. Imagine it! Trapped for infinity in a pit with Rik Mayall!"
Wormtail shuddered, but dutifully continued. "Then, my Lord, there's the hellhounds…"
"They're well-behaved if you know how to treat them."
"…and the Chimera that lives in the tunnel directly under the M25…"
Lord Voldemort turned and snarled at His servant, sending him flying. "And just what point were you trying to make?" He questioned, eyes blazing again.
"Just that, my Lord, you should expect delays if you live in a futuristic subterranean complex."
"But I ordered it to come!" He screeched, threatening to burst Wormtail's eardrums. "I expect no delays! I expect people to jump at a click of my fingers! I expect people to drink cyanide at my command! And I expect things to come when I order them to!" The fire faded out of His eyes, leaving them cold and reptilian. "Why are they late, Wormtail? Is it I? Am I such a bad person that my orders are disobeyed?"
"N…n…no, my Lord."
Lord Voldemort sighed and strode over to His desk, shuffling papers and re-arranging His executive toys with a few pings of metal on metal. Every few minutes He would look at the door with a rather mournful air.
Suddenly, there was a rattling noise. Lord Voldemort dived from behind His desk and ran for the door, throwing Wormtail out of the way so hard that the floorboards cracked under the rat's momentum. "Mine!" He screamed, "mine!"
He flew into a rugby tackle, arms stretched out, and the letterbox opened, and the latest edition of the Innovations catalogue fell into His long-fingered hands.
"Yessss!" He hissed loudly, with jubilation. "Finally! World domination will be mine…with the help of this month's special offer! The new improved Swiss Army Knife, with the Evil Dictator's Playthings attachment!" He turned to the cowering Wormtail, cradling the magazine with glee. "A ten per cent discount for the regular reader! Makes World Domination…A Doddle…"
fin