A/N: PLEASE check out "FuriousYak" and her stories, she's the coauthor of
this WONDERFUL piece of trash. Sorry for the huge gap between publishing
days, but the garbage truck only comes once a week..
Chapter Four: A Day With Dad
"Now, Mr. Tommy. I see you have an anger management problem. Has it something to do with your family life?"
Voldemort just stonily stared; twenty Potter replicas, teletubbies, and toffees. How much more could he take?
The red-haired man continued, "So, I thought I'd introduce."
A sparkling curtain appeared, and drumroll music started to play,
"Your.DADDY!"
Voldemort's eyes bulged slightly, and the edge of his lip twitched. He automatically gripped his wand, despite its uselessness.
"I killed him years ago."
"Hiya son! So ya wanta go KILL sometime, yeah, let's KILL some time by going to play ball! I bet you could MURDER me at batting, with this KILLER bat. But watch out, my swing is as swift as DEATH."
Voldemort's teeth grinded very hard, certain words appeared to pop out of his speech. Before he could respond,
"Or we can go to the Harry Potter Museum?"
"I'd love to go KILL you with a baseball bat, father of mine who deserted my mother."
His father beamed, "That's wonderful son! I'd love to, that's the SPIRIT!" -- Later that day, they arrived at a bright green field, with friendly trees around them. The trees had happy faces painted on them, and were waving wildly while doing cheers.
"Son, why don't you pitch to me? Let's see that KILLER curve of yours and if you can drive it SIX FEET UNDER."
Voldemort's eyes twitched, as a maniac gleam came into his eyes. He wound back, and threw the ball with intense speed towards his father's head. The ball bounced off his head,
"What a great throw!"
Twenty throws later,
"What a great throw! Now you get to HIT the ball with a LARGE, HEAVY, BLUNT object. SMASH the ball to BLOODY pieces."
He ground his teeth once more, and prepared for the pitch. Swinging with all his might, he hit a homerun. The trees started dancing, and singing. Anger surged through his body, and he threw the bat at his father. It bounced off.
"What a great throw!"
Voldemort mumbled something incoherent, but was swiftly interrupted by his father.
"Let's celebrate by a trip to the Harry Potter museum!"
He shook his head,
"No.No.you disgusting little man! I hate you, I want you dead! I killed you! You and your miserable muggle parents."
"Y'mean Gramps and Grammy? They gave you those shorts!"
Voldemort looked down and realized he was wearing baby blue shorts with pink stripes. A helicopter beanie was on his head and blew gently in the breeze. Suddenly, for no reason at all, he was in the Harry Potter museum.
Chapter Four: A Day With Dad
"Now, Mr. Tommy. I see you have an anger management problem. Has it something to do with your family life?"
Voldemort just stonily stared; twenty Potter replicas, teletubbies, and toffees. How much more could he take?
The red-haired man continued, "So, I thought I'd introduce."
A sparkling curtain appeared, and drumroll music started to play,
"Your.DADDY!"
Voldemort's eyes bulged slightly, and the edge of his lip twitched. He automatically gripped his wand, despite its uselessness.
"I killed him years ago."
"Hiya son! So ya wanta go KILL sometime, yeah, let's KILL some time by going to play ball! I bet you could MURDER me at batting, with this KILLER bat. But watch out, my swing is as swift as DEATH."
Voldemort's teeth grinded very hard, certain words appeared to pop out of his speech. Before he could respond,
"Or we can go to the Harry Potter Museum?"
"I'd love to go KILL you with a baseball bat, father of mine who deserted my mother."
His father beamed, "That's wonderful son! I'd love to, that's the SPIRIT!" -- Later that day, they arrived at a bright green field, with friendly trees around them. The trees had happy faces painted on them, and were waving wildly while doing cheers.
"Son, why don't you pitch to me? Let's see that KILLER curve of yours and if you can drive it SIX FEET UNDER."
Voldemort's eyes twitched, as a maniac gleam came into his eyes. He wound back, and threw the ball with intense speed towards his father's head. The ball bounced off his head,
"What a great throw!"
Twenty throws later,
"What a great throw! Now you get to HIT the ball with a LARGE, HEAVY, BLUNT object. SMASH the ball to BLOODY pieces."
He ground his teeth once more, and prepared for the pitch. Swinging with all his might, he hit a homerun. The trees started dancing, and singing. Anger surged through his body, and he threw the bat at his father. It bounced off.
"What a great throw!"
Voldemort mumbled something incoherent, but was swiftly interrupted by his father.
"Let's celebrate by a trip to the Harry Potter museum!"
He shook his head,
"No.No.you disgusting little man! I hate you, I want you dead! I killed you! You and your miserable muggle parents."
"Y'mean Gramps and Grammy? They gave you those shorts!"
Voldemort looked down and realized he was wearing baby blue shorts with pink stripes. A helicopter beanie was on his head and blew gently in the breeze. Suddenly, for no reason at all, he was in the Harry Potter museum.