But I'm the Dark Lord!
A rather insane story by a rather insane author
Spork Note: Yeppieness, 'tis ALR's challenge thingy doodad whatzits knickknack bric-a-brac fishbone wishbone speak-in-rhyme all-the-time singysongy la la! What's that? Oh, you want the requirements? Well, TOO BAD! I ain't tellin' ya! No, just kidding. Here they are. Don't cry… *hands out lollipops*
~Someone must say "Bring me chocolate, mortal!"
~The phrase "BAILAMOS!" must be included, which, in Spanish, means "we dance!"
~Must include SPAM
~Any Slytherin/former Slytherin should have a prominent role
And on we go! *blows horn and rides off on a horse*
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New Year's Eve, roughly 11:27 PM
Voice-over: 'Twas the night before New Year's, and all through the lair not a creature was stirring or disturbing the air. The Death Eaters were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of massacres danced in their heads. The fireplace threw off a soft, orange glow, and I snuck in to write this- hey, who's that? Oh no!
*Sound of running footsteps, a door slamming, then complete silence*
Blast. He got away. Oh well, there will be others, as soon as I put my evil plan into action. What? What do you mean, there are people reading this? Oops. How rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Dark Lord Moldevort, NOT to be confused with that incompetent Voldemort. Soon I will rule this band of evildoers, followed shortly by the world. But first… THE ALARM CLOCK!!!!!! *evil laughter*
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New Year's Day, 5:00 AM sharp
"Wake up, my loyal Death Eaters! Happy and murderous New Year!" Moldevort swept through the secret lair shouting at the Death Eaters to get out of bed. "Time to get up and rule the world!" Within a few minutes, they were stumbling into the main room, trying sleepily to get their bedhead under control. "What are you all staring at? Form lines! NOW!" Cringing, the evil minions stepped into two neat rows facing each other. Moldevort advanced down the center, outlining their evil plan. "And now, to business. First of all, you should know that I am your new leader. The previous Dark Lord has *ahem* gone away on business."
"Only business he's got is here," one of the Death Eaters muttered. Moldevort whirled on the mutterer.
"SILENCE!" he roared, going quite red. "Now then. I, Moldevort, have appointed myself the new Dark Lord of the Universe. You, as my minions, will obey my every command. If any of you objects, you may do so from six feet underground. Any questions?" The Death Eaters stood in stunned silence. Moldevort grinned evilly. "I'll take that as a "no." Now if you'll all follow me? It's time to take our rightful place as rulers of the civilized world!" The two lines of Death Eaters marched in step toward the door, but a shout followed by a loud noise from the back of the room made them halt. "Stay where you are!" Moldevort commanded. He turned around to see Voldemort standing on top of an iron door that had apparently been blasted out of its frame. The former Dark Lord pointed his wand at Moldevort, a crazed look in his eyes. The charred remains of a rope still trailed from his left ankle. Moldevort blinked. "How did you-" He saw the wand in Voldemort's hand and his voice trailed off in midsentence. Quickly, he regained his composure. "No matter. Two can play this game." Moldevort whipped out his own wand.
"Oh, no you don't!" Voldemort lashed out. One or two of the Death Eaters shifted uneasily. A contest between two Dark Lords is never a fun thing. Voldemort continued to shout. "All my life I've worked hard for this power, and you can't just waltz in and take over! Taking credit for other people's success is downright unethical! I may be an evil sorcerer bent on ruling the world, but I still have morals!"
"Calm down, my evil friend," Moldevort oozed. "You've had a nice long reign of terror, don't you think it's time to let someone else have a turn? I've always wanted to be Dark Lord of the Universe."
"But *I'm* the Dark Lord! You wanna rule something, go *work* for it!" Voldemort bawled back, now turning a rather odd color.
"No, I don't think I will, that's much too hard." Moldevort raised his wand and took aim. "IMPERIO!"
So you think you can get me that easily, Voldemort thought. I've been immune to that for quite a while. But I'll play along. He assumed a blank, staring face, as if the curse had taken effect. A sadistic grin spread over Moldevort's face.
"Bring me chocolate, mortal!" Voldemort turned and walked through the door frame. I'm *not* a mortal, he thought furiously. But I do have a plan. Laughing to himself, Voldemort took a can from the shelf…
Meanwhile, back in the lair: Moldevort faced the stunned Death Eaters, grinning like a madman. "There, you see? I have proved myself the true Dark Lord! The forces of evil shall once again become prevalent over the lowly scum that call themselves the righteous! I, Moldevort, will RULE THE WORLD!!!" He broke into evil laughter, but then stopped as he realized that Voldemort had already arrived with a large box labeled "World's Finest Chocolates, Made Specially For Dark Lords Bent On Ruling The World."
"Here you are, Lord Moldevort," said Voldemort, handing over the chocolates with an obedient bow. Copycat, he added mentally. You stole my name! Moldevort, unaware of these evil thoughts, opened the box and carefully selected a chocolate.
"Well done, minion," he said and popped the chocolate into his mouth. Suddenly he choked, coughing and spluttering. The Death Eaters rushed forward in alarm. "Stay where you are!" Moldevort managed to gasp. "What's wrong with this chocolate?" he demanded weakly as he dropped the box and sank to the floor.
"Oh, that's not chocolate. That, my evil friend, is none other than SPAM!!!!!!" Voldemort exclaimed.
"No! Can't- be- SPAM… fatal- to- Dark Lords," Moldevort said, gasping for breath. "Can't… breathe…" He twitched a few times and fell silent. Voldemort eyed the body contemptuously. "Wormtail!" he barked. Wormtail obediently rushed forward.
"Y-Yes, my lord?" he stammered.
"Bury that," Voldemort ordered, nudging the body with his toe.
"Glad to have you back, my lord," another Death Eater said. "Didn't like that Moldevort fellow. Scary, even for an evil sorcerer."
"Say, I've got a wonderful idea," the Dark Lord mused. He paused for dramatic effect as the Death Eaters leaned in to hear. "PAR-TAY!!!!" Music blasted, courtesy of the author, as the evildoers began to dance their heads off, figuratively speaking.
"Bailamos!" a shout rang out.
"Obviously," someone commented. "Hey, since when do you speak Spanish?"
"You got a problem with me speaking Spanish?"
"*You're* the one with problems!"
"Don't make me hex you…"
And everybody lived evilly ever after. The End.
Another Spork Note: Not bad for last-minute panic. Perhaps not quite as insane as usual *shrugs nonchalantly* but oh well. Who cares? Not me. Nope. No way. Do I look like a person who cares? *ignores glares from readers* Didn't think so. Now, be a nice person and review! Vote AIT the Almighty Spork for Queen of the Universe! *holds up v-for-victory sign and grins*
