You guys made me feels so bad about ending the first one, I whipped this one up as fast as I could, thanks to some friends who gave me the basic idea. This has some minor background from iVoldy, but it doesn't pertain that much.
I am, in fact, of Southern/Louisiana root, so when I make complete fun of it (all in good humor, of course) I know exactly what I am talking about. This fic is like a trip to the bayou on steroids.
Note: Should you ever which to discuss this fic out loud, the word bayou is pronounced "bi – you". It's French.
DC: Mutter… mutter… mutter… I said it. Didn't you hear me?
Okay. Ready? Set? Go!
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Note to the Pimp'n Dark Lord: Voldemort wrote. The Pimp'n Dark Lord, no matter how Pimp'n he may be, is still not considered Pimp'n by other prisoner's standards. He paused to readjust the ice pack. The Pimp'n Dark Lord must remember to never cut in line.
He closed the make-shift journal and pushed it underneath the mattress. His cell mate would be returning soon from his knitting circle, and they would be marched to dinner together.
To be honest himself, Voldemort wasn't looking forward to eating with his fellow criminals again. They may be charged with not paying their taxes, but they were very sensitive about justice. Take two steps ahead of the guy in front just to grab an apple and the whole cafeteria blows up.
The Dark Lord winced and switched hands on his ice pack. That turnip packed a whopper. He would've never guessed how creative some of these convicts could be.
Suddenly, the door to his cell opened. Expecting his cell mate, he nudged the journal deeper into the bed.
Instead, two guards entered.
"You're getting transferred." One said.
"You cause too much of a problem in this facility." Grunted the other.
"Where is it?" Voldemort asked hopefully. "Alcatraz?"
"No. It's solitary confinement."
"… In Alcatraz?"
"No!"
"Where then?"
The guards exchanged grim looks. "Louisiana's swamp land. The bayou." The first one said.
They left Voldemort to pack his things in condemned, horrified silence.
……………………………………………………………………………………………...
AN: Jeez, that one was shorter than my first prologue… I really need to work on that. But the next chapie will be typed with great speed!