Hello! Here's chapter two; maybe not as good as the first chapter, but don't worry, I have good stuff planned!
Formidable Old Women
Voldemort pushed his trolley down the bread isle, picking up some French bread as he went. He checked his list again. He only had to pick up some doughnuts, and he was done.
After he had collected his chosen doughnuts, Voldemort started towards the door, glancing surreptitiously around. It wouldn't do to be caught now. He was almost out of the door when –
'Excuse me, sir. Have you paid yet?'
Voldemort winced and and turned around to face the doorman, debating what to say. If he said no, he would have to go and pay, and he had no spare change (he had lost it all in a bet with Snape). Anyway, even if he did have any money, it would do him no good here – this was a muggle supermarket, and he only ever used wizard's money. Besides, he wanted to steal, not pay for things.
'Yes,' he replied curtly, but the man narrowed his eyes and shifted about, looking for all the world as if he wanted to arrest Voldemort there and then.
'Would you mind showing me your receipt please, sir?' he asked in a bored tone of voice.
'My...reseet? What's a reseet?' asked Voldemort nervously.
The doorman clicked his tongue impatiently, 'No games please, sir. Just show me your receipt and you can go.'
'I – er, of course!' cried Voldemort, and rummaged through his pockets to produce anything that might possibly be a 'reseet', whatever that was. Finally, his fingers alighted on something that he had been given when he entered the supermarket.
'Here it is,' he said proudly, brandishing the small piece of shiny paper. Slowly the doorman took it from Voldemort's hand, and gazed down at the piece of paper.
'Sir,' he said, 'this is a voucher for twenty percent off any tissues you happen to buy.'
'Is it?' said Voldemort feebly, 'I thought...oh.'
'You haven't paid, have you?'
'I, er, well...no,' mumbled Voldemort, trying not to quail under the man's stern gaze.
The doorman seized one of Voldemort's wrists, but was stopped from attaching any handcuffs by Voldemort's stick of French bread, which had collided with the side of his head. The man reeled and released Voldemort, more out of surprise than anything else.
It took the doorman a moment to focus on Voldemort, but when he did, his eyes widened in surprise. Voldemort was standing facing him, looking just like someone out of a cowboy film in the middle of a showdown, apart from one salient fact. Instead of a gun, Voldemort carried his loaf of French bread (now slightly battered and with a bent end). Instinctively, the doorman grabbed whatever was nearest to him, which happened to be a watermelon.
As various astonished muggles looked on, Voldemort spun the loaf of bread impressively, then leaped on to his trolley in an attempt to attack the doorman. However, he had overestimated how much weight his trolley could take, and the groaning structure swayed, teetered on its spindly wheels, then crashed to the ground, sending Voldemort spinning over the handlebars, and thudding heavily into the doorman's chest. Needless to say, the doorman was knocked to the ground, and the watermelon spun out of his hands, smashing on to the floor a little way away.
'See ya, sucker!' Voldemort scrambled off the bedraggled man, and raced away down the cake isle, before leaping into a new, sturdier looking trolley, and propelling himself along with his French bread loaf. It took him several minutes to realize that he wasn't moving anywhere. He twisted around to see a formidable looking woman standing behind him. She had grey hair dragged back into a bun and startling blue eyes, accompanied by an aquiline nose and arching eyebrows. Voldemort took one look at the contents of his trolley and instantly realised that it must have been hers. Voldemort screwed up his pale face and waited for the explosion. Instead, he got a whack around the head with the woman's handbag. Bright gold stars gleamed and drifted in front of his eyes before he got another solid hit to the head, and his vision blurred and faded.
***
Voldemort woke up in yet another muggle jail with a splitting headache and a rather bruised ego. He put a hand to his head, trying to remember what Snape had told him to do if he ever got put in jail again, but all he could think of was how embarrassment it was that he had been beaten by an old muggle woman. He, the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard ever, had been beaten by an old muggle woman with an inordinately heavy handbag. It was just so unfair!
So in the end, Voldemort had no choice but to call Snape, 'Come on, come on...Oh, hi Snape!...Yeah...Oh, I know!...Yeah, I mean please!...No. No, I never miss one of his films...Yes, she's good too...Hmm? Oh, yes. Yeah, just so clingy!..You what? Why did I call?...Well, it's like this, Snape...'
Snape listened patiently while Voldemort told a rather long-winded version of his adventures, emphasizing that old women really are very dangerous, and asking whether it was normal for handbags to be quite that heavy? Snape thought, between snickers, that Voldemort might have a bit of an obsession with old muggle ladies.
***
'So, why didn't you disapparate?' asked Snape curiously as they sauntered towards Snape's house, each licking ice-creams, which Voldemort had insisted they buy (not that Snape was loath to the idea).
'Flip! I forgot!' exclaimed Voldemort ruefully. Next time he really would have to remember...
There we go! Next up...Something to do with an airport. I'm not giving much away, though.
Tabs :D
