How Malak Lost His Jaw

Warning: reading this story can cause severe dementia, drug use, and wearing women's underwear. The authors of this story are in no way responsible for any of these things nor do we condone them. Well maybe the women's underwear...and the dementia...oh hell they can all stay. :)

Author's note: A cracked fic done in collaboration with Daughter of Malkav and myself, PhoenixAsending.

Disclaimer: We do not own Kotor. We do not own Harry Potter. Any insanity issues, talk to our lawyers/psychiatrist.

Malak stood in front of the refresher mirror, carefully holding the sharpened razor to his shaving foam covered chin of pure evil!

"Carefully, carefully..." he told himself as he lowered the razor to his face.

"MALAK!" Revan screamed causing Malak's hand to jerk spasmodically. A small drop of blood appeared among the white foam. "WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT USING MY LADIES RAZOR?"

"Bounteous Bantha Butt-lovers!" He swore dramatically. "She's discovered my dark secret. I only hope she doesn't find out where I hide her underwear!"

"And you better not be wearing my underwear again!"

"Great Glowing Gourds of Greeda-the-Hutt," he didn't want to know about how she knew about that...or maybe he did. Depended on wether or not he got more of her underwear.

"Ooooh, you're in trouble now, said a voice from his chin," said a voice on Malak's chin.

"By the hairs on my chinny chin, chin, who said that?"

"It is I, Lord Voldemort, making a surprise guest appearance from Harry Potter!"

"But why!" Malak cried in confusion.

"Because the authors where on crack and weren't sure wether or not you had a chin to start out with."

"By Atris' Anals, of course I have a chin! What do you think, I was born some chinless women's underwear wearing freak?"

"You wear women's underwear?" Lord Voldemort asked, a decided tone of interest in his voice.

"Um...no...that's why I said I didn't you see? And I have a chin! You're on it! Don't you have something to do? Death, destruction, slaughter, getting you're ass kicked by an 11 year old boy? What kind of name is Voldemort anyway?" Said the man named Darth Malak.

A large thudding thundered down the halls of the starforge, "MALAAAAAAK! WHERE IS MY RAZOR...AND MY EGYPTIAN LEATHER THONG!"

"Wheeeeew," Whistled Lord Voldemort. "That's my cue to leave."

The presence on Malak's chin began to fade, an eery moaning in it's wake. "Ooooooh, beware the Ides of March...I mean tetanus...whoooooooooo." And Lord Voldemort was gone

"Holy Hopping Horrors of Hoth," Malak declared, "How much worse can this day get?"

And then his Jaw fell off.