Disclaimer:
Author's Note
: Please read this but don't ask me what the hell I was thinking... it was very late and I was very bored. I don't sleep you see, I just write all the time!Please read and review... it's the only way I know people have read it and if they think it's ay good or not.
The Problems with Slipping a Disk
I've perfected the art of being spineless, yes you'd better believe it's easier to do the limbo under the Dark Lords chair without a back bone, though it does make standing up rather difficult.
I guess you could say my mind is a lot like the spaghetti junction, you never know what level you're going to end up on and any direction you chose it bound to guide you in completely the wrong bearing because that's what happens. You make one decision, a fallacy if you will, and you end up with an ugly cattle brand that says you're part of an evil clan. No easy chow to swallow - in fact it's a little daunting. Kind of like someone telling you to kill your granny - I mean who asks you to do that everyday? My point exactly... not that I could say you'd ever understand me after all I am a Death Eater and you're a decent member of a democratic society founded on law and order and me, I'm exempt from that and lost all my rights to exist the minute I started taking orders from the wrong kind of people - the kind that say, 'hey wouldn't autocracy be a lot more fun?' Not that they're really getting the full picture. Voldemort is as likely to share power with his minions as he is to ever interfere with a woman again... a no hoper I know and all I can say is that I'm annoyed I jumped on the band wagon so early, I missed the sixties for crying out loud! Or was that something to do with my age? Dismiss that would you... I would like to strike the last comment.
People say you aught to throw the book at my kind - the book followed by the library brick by brick but then I ask why... I mean not all of us are evil, some are just mislead, several of us wear another tattoo, one written on our foreheads in invisible ink, it screams: Please Help Me! Not me though... I don't need help - yet...
I am lazy in a way I mean, who would bother to write this to explain their reasoning, it's ludicrous, or illogical, or... unethical, either way you can guarantee I'm laughing. That's the beauty of being spineless I guess. You get accused you immediately fold and give up your information or you could be antiquated and righteous and stand up for what you believe but then you'd be insane, in my opinion it's a lot more fashionable to slowly collapse like a flan in a cupboard - what wizard in their right mind would go to Azkaban? Well? Like I said before I may be spineless but I know what Azkaban makes you: Washed up - with a capital; wasted!
My Master would prefer that I inveigh my words to you but I feel a hearty discussion involving tea and cake would be a lot more relaxed and probably stop you pelting me with raw vegetables, or not... I guess looking upon Castor - I've no idea why the twenty-third brightest star in the sky stands out to me but it does, Gemini is so far away... My apologies I'm digressing, as I was saying:
I envisage my future to be hazy - I'm either to die at the hands of Voldemort who is insistent that I am slippery, slippery I may be but unlike him I am not immortal, infallible yes, but the idea that in the future I may need to borrow a corpse unsettles my stomach, I'd take death over that, I have a little self respect. That and I think my wife would leave me if I came back looking like the walking dead, my son would in no doubt up his nose like his mother and I don't do alone, there is something unsavoury about it, plus it would make my mother turn in her grave if she thought I'd failed in marriage.
Or I shall fall prey to some Auror who becomes big headed wheeling me back to the ministry wailing 'I bagged Malfoy...' They've been trying for years, so many years... I love having money. If there is one thing in this world money does its make other people crumble, drop a bag of galleons on the Minister of Magic and I guarantee he'll fold quicker than a deck chair.
Small people rule the world you know... want to know how they do it? By pressing buttons, that's how house elves became so clever, or is that just our house elf? Probably just Dobby, not that I could call him smart, I mean he's knows what he wants but his command of our language has a lot to be desired. But I have no idea why I'd want to talk about that, after all he is no longer in my service, I blame that idiotic Potter boy, he has no idea what is good for him.
My friends are a lot like me – or not… I could say that some of them are like me but most ooze along the ground like slugs, red carpet for Voldemort's reptilian feet. My wife did tell me I was making the wrong decision to join the Death Eaters but I don't listen to women, she may be my wife but I'll not be bossed around by her. Upon introspection she had been right but never mind – I'll live with my mistake… and I guess I can cope with that.
Now I guess I should get to today, today of all days… It had to be today. I was walking to work, well I say walking to work, I was actually in the middle of disapparating to the ministry when I slipped a disk and ended up here. In this Muggle police station explaining to a Muggle contraption why I ended up in the middle of the ladies changing room in a leisure centre. Well they do call it a 'leisure' centre, what else is a man to think? I guess my appearing out of no where had to frighten the silly old woman, I'm pretty she wouldn't have been so panicky had I not landed on her foot. All I can say is what kind of woman has size ten feet?
After she had finished screaming she proceeded to hit me round the head with her towel and fleece me viciously on the tiled floor. Tiled, now I must add my house is adorned with marble floors and when I looked at the grotty old tiles I wondered what type of hellhole I had landed in? I couldn't exactly get away from her either… My back was killing me. Every time I tried to crawl away from her she continued to wail at the top of her voice before you elephants came in here dragging me shouting to my feet while allowing her to claim I tried to rape her – I would like to add that raping her would have been out of the question, not only because I was in agony with my back but because she looked like a beached whale.
I was most shocked with the way I was treated. No one of my stature has ever been so readily insulted by a Muggle. One of the 'policemen' referred to my wand as a rather pathetic twig that had been placed in a rather offensive position. Believe me had I truly wanted to be offensive in the way he meant I would have had no trouble frightening the woman with more than a spindly eight inches of holly. That was just insulting.
When my pockets were emptied I was referred to as a raving pervert, at that I had to say something, they were making me out to be some kind of sexually deprived maniac that couldn't get any. It left me wondering, had they looked at me? Did I look like the kind of man that couldn't keep a woman let alone get one.
I said to one of the men, 'if I looked like you that would be understandable.' His reaction was the one I expected, the sneer dropped from his thin lips to one displaying his damaged ego, I allowed myself a short dry laugh as the other officers seemed to be unanimous on my opinion of the oleaginous ape, the grease seemed to drip from his hair and the smell of that rather pungent fellow was ubiquitous.
I believe that I was soon to discover why Muggle law never works, they seemed so malignant and kept undoing their own work. I was then lead off by the - I believe he was the sergeant along some rather smelly corridors past rooms with men making outrageous statements and forced into a... cell I think it was called. Now the oubliette at Hogwarts is a lot more pleasant than this room, I'd never felt like such a prisoner, even when Fudge was questioning me about this that and the other. The other happened to be about Voldemort and I wasn't going to allow the words past my lips.
I spent a while in this cell... it was after half an hour that I realised why the other men had been yelling, there was a small bed and a disgustingly kept toilet. I wasn't going to stay there so long that I had to use that!
The illegitimate child of Frankenstein and some gorilla from London zoo opened a little slot in the door and informed me I had to be interviewed. I was then marched out of the cell for which I was deeply grateful and back to the desk where they had taken my wand, I thought they were going to allow me to have it back, a cruciatus curse wouldn't go amiss among these chimps. I wasn't that lucky, I was marched along another small corridor.
Then I ended up here, in the pokey little room with a cup of warm pond water that you expect me to drink, or assume drink, though it looks like something one of you passed through in your lunch hour.
This fool dressed in the most mundane uniform I ever set my eyes on walked in and began questioning me on why I had been at this so called 'Leisure' centre. It wasn't like I had a choice when disapparating but then he wouldn't understand being a Muggle dressed as he was. He didn't strike me as the kind that had a mother or a wife or that shirt he was wearing would have been ironed, cleaned perhaps, the smell was intolerable. I guess my answers didn't exactly help my situation. He didn't seem to believe I ended up there by accident and that I wasn't a small-minded pervert with nothing better than to rape old ladies. Like I said before, that wasn't my plan. I just wanted to get to work, why would I give up everything I have for a romp with an aging granny?
As I have said he refused to believe me and before I knew it I was in another room with no amenities at all, nothing and they had placed me in a, I believe they call it a straight jacket. Well it isn't much of a jacket the arms are connected and you can't move once you in one, so all I can assume is that I'll have to wait for Narcissa to come and pay to get me out.
What a pain in the arse...
The End: I think...
Author's Note
I.C. Fire
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