So this morning, as he was eating his third bowl of cereal, my brother observed that a Dark Lord who was defeated four times would probably be living on the cheap, and so I started imagining Voldemort sharing a flat with some poor, hapless Muggle to split the cost of rent. And then I imagined how difficult a flatmate Voldemort would probably be…a little fussy and temperamental, don't you think?
So yeah…the poem is told from Voldemort's POV, complaints directed at his flatmate.
***
Now I really have tried to be patient
But much more of this I simply can't take
A hundred pounds a week is a bargain
But living with you is a constant headache
I squelched the desire to kill you
When you stole all my unicorn blood
But food in the fridge isn't free for the taking
(And please throw out your moldy old crud!)
And while we're on the subject
I'll remind you that that's my case of beer
With all of my food that goes missing, I wonder:
Is "BELONGS TO VOLDEMORT" somehow unclear?
And I'm sorry that my precious Nagini
Gobbled up your two cats in one bite
But she was tired of just salted linguini
And wanted a dinner that'd put up a fight.
And you really do hurt my feelings
When you constantly say that I reek
I told you it's a metabolic disorder
I can't help that I'm undead and thus stink.
And then when I asked you to proofread
My memoirs, titled Give Evil a Chance,
You laughed at all of the wrong parts,
Then called it a pompous, egotistical rant
And I'll admit that killing your mother
Was retaliation a bit too extreme
But my therapist says it's not my fault
I've just got low self-esteem
And those jokes are no longer funny
(I've told you before I'm not gay)
Yes, Lucius and I are close friends
But we've never shared a roll in the hay
(Okay, so there was that one time--
And I'd thank you to knock, my dear sir--
But we were both drunken and lonely
And feeling a bit insecure)
So I'm sure you think me quite whiny
To have indulge in this tiresome gush
So I'll only ask you one last question
When oh when will you learn to flush?