What would happen if Voldemort got some serious teenage attitood...this fanfic is what. That's right, Voldie's back, and this time he ain't serious.

"Ohmigod Lucius wat are you like, biatch?" Voldemort asked with a giggle, practically pushing his friend off the chair. Lucius Malfoy had made yet another witty jibe about his Death Eater colleagues.

Malfoy chuckled uncertainly. Since Voldemort had arrived back from the chav side of England on his hols, Lucius had absolutely no idea what his supreme master was on about anymore.

They were sat at a long wooden table in the Malfoy's massive dining room, waiting for the rest of their crew to bring in the damned Muggle Studies teacher so Voldie could rotate her ass like a suckling pig.

It was just like them to be late. Someone was gonna get Avad'ded, and it wasn't that scrawny spectacle git nemesis of his... Happy something or other? Voldie was never very good with names. But when you're a kick ass overlord you can pretty much call people whatever you want.

Voldie lifted his leg high and swung it over the other one. "Sooo," he said in an effeminate voice. "Wat you up to dis weekend, Lulu?"

"Erm, I prefer Lucius...if you please, sire." Malfoy simpered.

Voldie lifted a careless shoulder and flicked away his imaginary locks. "Wat'ev's."

"Well...I'm probably going to take my wife and son on one of the Muggle killing sprees packages I've seen advertised in the holiday brochure," Lucius continued uncertainly.

"Oh yah!" Voldie replied too-loudly, making Lucius drop his cane. "I've heard of those. I've been thinkin' 'bout taking Mulciber on the cruise-

"-Where you can make them Gangnam their way off the plank," they chorused.

"Very good, very good indeed, my Lord," Lucius replied, dusting himself off after scurrying around on the floor- the snake head had rolled from the top of his pimp cane.

"They sound well good," Voldie continued thoughtfully. "But dat wasn't wat I 'erd you was gonna do, Looroll..." he said slyly.

"Please, call me Lucius, your highness," Malfoy entreated. "...Hold on," he realised. "What, precisely, did you hear I was going to do? Has Snape been flapping his lips again?" he fumed. "Because I swear to Merlin, I will kick his a-"

Voldie raised an eyebrow at him. "As if she's tryin' to be all innocent," he gestured wildly at Lucius. "I've heard all 'bout yo secrets fetishes, Malfoid. MacNair tol' me you was gonna GET YO' HIGHLIGHTS DONE!"

"Oh no you di'nt!" Lucius replied angrily, clicking his gloved fingers to and fro' before checking himself. "I mean, what are you talking about? My hair is as natural as you are powerful...my liege."

Voldie eyed up his friends blatantly bleached hair. "Those split ends say othawise," he said, performing a strange circular head movement Lucius had only ever seen on Jerry Springer. Not that he ever watched it, of course. His friend, Ernie Mac...Uni...Corn had told him. That's right, MacUnicorn.

"Having Unicorn in your name could happen," Lucius argued aloud.

"Whatchoo talkin' 'bout ya crazy fool?" Voldie asked, getting his catchphrases mixed up.

"I believe it's whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis," Lucius offered helpfully.

Voldie narrowed his eyes at him. "Avada Kedavra," he said, tiring of the wannabe albino's company.

"Ooh shexay," he squee'ed as he saw Lucius's luscious hair fan out around his sprawled form. Voldie whipped a pair of scissors from his long cloak, "Knew these would come in handy. To fink Severus laughed at me for carrying 'round a sewing kit," he cried gleefully, snipping a lock of Malfoy's hair.

He held it to the back of his head and checked himself in the large wall mirror. "I've always wanted a thin pointless ponytail at the back of my head" he mused. "Stupid bald evil head," he cursed to himself. "Why do the bad guys always 'ave be as bald as a baby anyways? Ooh I look like an overgrown foetus, scary."

With that he tied the lock to the back of his cloak collar, having no hair on his head to attach it to. "Oh yeah I'm a real badass mo'fo with ma hair trailing down ma neck," he bragged, doing a badass victory dance.

"You mean a mullet?" Snape drawled, using his endless supply of grease to propel himself into the room like a giant snail. Grease travel was his favourite mode of transport lately, and it was virtually undetectable to the Order chiefs.

Plus the fact it was great for instigating comedy falls. Who needed a banana skin when you've an in-built supply of mucus? He'd had the Ghostbusters trailing his ass the other week, but he'd managed to lose them at the Malfoy Manor gates.

"NO, I DO NOT MEAN A MULLET!" Voldie screamed, stamping his curly foot. He promptly Avad'ed Snape then quickly regretted it. What would he use to oil the gears on his pink push bike now? Muggle oil just would not do. It was just so coarse and, muggly.

"Un-Avada Kedavra," he muttered, pointing his wand slyly behind his back at Severus's lifeless body. He found completely impossible magic a lot easier when you were casual about it.

Suddenly a huge blue genie arose from the ugly effing vase on the mantle. "I AM THE GENIE OF THE LAMP! WHO DARES TO TRY AND TRICK ME?" he boomed.

"But that's my dog's urn," Lucius interjected before flopping his head back down, definitely dead this time.

The genie unfolded his arms and picked up the urn roughly. "Ok, who swapped my lamp for a dead dog's basket?" he demanded.

"Um, that would be me," a quiet, high pitched voice came from behind Cissy's plasma tv where he had been cowering that whole time.

Peter Pettigrew seemed unable to talk normally even as a human, preferring to communicate in a series of ratty squeaks. "I didn't mean to knock your lamp off the fireplace Mister Genie," he said apologetically, "but honestly, who makes a lamp out of glass? It's just asking to be broken, and besides-"

"Petti-boi?" Voldie interrupted incredulously, "But if you're over there, then who the fack is kidnapping the dirty Muggle lovin' teach?"

"See, about that," Peter squeaked, as usual.

Voldie held up a hand. "'Old your horses Peter Pisspants," he said. He snapped his fingers and a small man in a business suit and glasses hurried into the room. "Dis 'ere is my rat translator," he said. "I'm sick to ma back teeth of tryin' to understand you, Pete." He shook his head, "Why you can't jus' talk like a normal human bee-ing like me is beyond me."

"Yes, normal..." Snape muttered sarcastically.

Hitching up his skirts, I mean cloak, Voldie ran over to the greasy haired man and bitch slapped him round the face. "Don' backchat me!" he exclaimed.

Snape flicked his head back into place, pinning Voldie with his piercing black eyes - yes black eyes can be piercing, very piercing indeed- and replied simply, "Or what? You'll 'UN-Avada Kedavra me again?" he said, giving it some attitude.

The audience gasped and whooped, and started chanting, "Terry!Terry!Terry!"

The big blue genie, who had since taken a seat to watch the ridiculous men fight with one another, floated up looking bemused.

"Who the hell is Terry?" he demanded, his booming voice forgotten.

"More to the point, why does Lucius have a live studio audience in his dining room?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow, wondering how he had failed to notice them before. An old lady with a curly blue rinse shot him a wink from the stands.

He rolled his eyes. "It's tough being Alan Rickman," he sighed. "I'm just too irresistable for my own good."

Just then Terry Binger came running onto the stage -I mean the Malfoy's house- and addressed the author.

"You do realise what you've done don't you?" He demanded. "Not only have you made a mess of Lucius's hair, completely OOC'd Voldemort's ass and turned Snape into a snail-human half breed. You have also managed to completely confuddle the reader with the many ridiculous storylines you've insisted on putting in, then not following up."

The audience booed the cowering writer.

"I'm not even gonna question what the Ghostbusters are doing trying to kick down the Manor gate," Terry added. "Will you just choose a plot and stick with it?"

After many long and tedious court cases later the following was written amongst a letter of apology.

Dear Readers/Alan Rickman/Terry,

After much deliberating, and a rather violent game of rock, paper, scissors about who was going to go fetch the absent Muggle Studies teacher - in an AU turn of events none of the men had the pleasure of sticking her on a mid air spit roast after all.

The leggy blonde Lucius Malfoy reawakened in the afterlife to find his favourite lock of hair missing.

Mollusc man Severus Snape refused point blank to oil Voldie's pushbike for an entire week as punishment for trying to kill him.

The Genie went begrudgingly back to share his home with Lucius's dog's ashes- making the best of the situation by turning it into a beach hut.

Peter Pettigrew dated his translator for a while until the romance sadly fizzled out when they found they had nothing to squeak about.

And finally Voldie got to have his badass mo'fo ponytail...though it would mysteriously disappear every few months while his cloak was in the wash.

And they all lived happily ever after...kinda.

A/N: This fic is dedicated to my younger brother. Thanks for making my day, J.