The Shortest Short Stories Ever: What Would You Do For A Klondike Bar?
By Spectra16
A/N: This chapter is strangely in light of the sixth book, since we all know Voldemort is a sadistic psycho bitch (like Umbridge) that wants Lucius to suffer. So here's what would've happened if life was all too simple. Anyways, I've started two new short story series like this one. One is about the diary entries of Tom to Ginny and the other is a series of bloopers, rather random might I add. The only reason why I put them into "Shortest Short Stories Ever" format is because they are the ideas I get while standing in the lunch line. Rather silly, I know, but oh well. Inspiration is pertinent.
I got my Harry and the Potters cds! Human Hosepipe is the best song next to All I Want for Christmas by Draco and the Malfoys! Season Depression by the Whomping Willows is pretty good too.
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Chapter Twenty-eight: What Would Draco Do For A Klondike Bar?
Draco and Voldemort starred into the same apparatus, except Draco's eyebrows were furrowed, confused by this situation. Voldemort tried to hide the guilt in his soul. Wait, what soul? He sniffed and handed Draco a familiar looking utensil, made of metal.
"A fork?" Draco asked. Voldemort nodded.
"See, these kinds of locks cannot be opened by magic. You need this tool," Voldemort instructed, shifting his weight from his belly to his side, since the two of them were laying on a wood floor of a strange Muggle building. Draco seemed very confused.
"Forgive me for questioning you, Lord, but this is very strange to me," Draco began, but Voldemort was quick to speak over his doubts.
"Do you wanna be a Death Eater or not!" Voldemort asked sarcastically. Draco shrugged. Voldemort dug into his pocket and pulled out something in a silver wrapping.
"I'll give you a Klondike bar if you do it," Voldemort held it in front of his face. Draco licked his lips and didn't hesitate to put the fork into the hole. A strike of electricity flew through Draco, and Draco was able to pull the fork out. His hair was blackened, and his skin was smoking.
"WOW! That was fucking awesome!" Draco did it again. Voldemort nearly cried. His plan had not worked, so he was reduced to sending Draco to kill Dumbledore. But that fell through too. Eventually, Voldemort was reduced to dressing up as an old Russian woman and fattened up Draco with a ginger bread house and stuffed him in the oven and baked a nice meat Draco pie out of him. Yes, Lucius would finally mildly feel bad. . .