I managed to grab some time to write this chapter up. I was quite happy with myself.

Again, thanks to all the wonderful reviewers! May you have good waves this coming year!

DC: Again, I don't own Friends, Will and Grace, or, in this one, Masterpiece Theatre. Woot.

Emerge yourself, as I have run out of languages in my translation site!

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It was a rather large tank. It had green stripes, and at least four automatic machine guns attached. Painted roughly on was the UPS symbol. It turned off the street, and missing the driveway completely, rolled across the lawn.

The hatch popped open. Two men climbed out, dressed alike with black ninja outfits, and several bulges in strategic places that looked like guns.

Then the postman emerged. He held a package carefully. The men stood back to back in front of him, while six more men came out, two holding bazookas and one unclipping a machine gun from the tank.

Defiantly, the postman approached Malfoy Manor, surrounded by his squad of Ninja Secret Service men. Today, he was taking Mister Voldemort Voldemort down. His clipboard and pen, always ready, were twitching in anticipation.

The clump of black halted on the porch. One of the Ninja Secret Service men prodded the doorbell with the bazooka's barrel.

"Ye -" Gulp. "- essss?"

"Package" The postman's voice issued from somewhere in the center of the squad.

"One moment…"

The door opened. The postman was getting rather bored with the procedures.

"Put the package down." Said the voice.

"Ha ha! Not so fast, Mister Voldemort Voldemort!"

The voice sounded as though it was squinting slightly. "Have you been working out?"

"No." the postman growled. "That's not the point!"

"M-hmm… Would you like to tell me what is the point?"

"Fine! Theses fine men around me are clearly armed. So unless you come down here and sign this - " He held up his arm so the clipboard could be seen above the sea of guns "- I will be forced to 'exterminate' you" He kicked the man in front of him, which was the signal for all of them to aim their guns randomly at the ceiling and walls.

"Well, that would be great, as the basement's had a this huge problem with mutated cockroaches-"

"Not that kind of exterminate!"

"Oh." The voice considered the word again. "Which kind?"

"The killing you kind! You know," the postman was feeling slightly put out that this wasn't being received with more fear, "blackmail?"

"Oh contraire, my good man, the mail you have for me happens to be a sort of creamy dark brown-"

"NO!" screamed the postman. "You don't get it!"

He burst through the wall of Ninja Secret Service men. His face was a lovely marinara shade.

"I -" the postman pointed to himself, "will shoot -" he grabbed, or rather lugged, the machine gun over and aimed it at the wall in front of him, "you!" He pointed. It was not the regular finger.

"I'm sorry, I really don't see where this is going, so if you could just leave the package here, and I'll get the Toy Chihuahua cage, we can move along."

"Ha! You're Chihuahua's don't threaten me! I'm protected!"

"… By who?"

"The -" The postman glanced around.

There was a clattering gun, and a dust ball rolled across the foyer. Some old western music played from the TV room.

"…Guys?" The postman asked, looking around, "Guys? Hello – o…"

There was no answer.

With suddenly knocking knees, the postman grinned weakly. "Now about all this 'extermination' business… Ah ha ha, I was just joking…"

The mysterious voice cackled as the boot inadvertently switched to the other foot. "Too late, fleeting UPS man… Release the hounds!"

The postman cringed, waiting for his days to come to an end.

… Still waiting….

"Damn…" the voice muttered. "Snape's still in the hospital… Lucius!"

Listening intently, the postman heard a distant voice. "What d'you want?"

"Go open the Toy Chihuahua cage!"

"Make Bellatrix."

"Don't you have the remote?"

"Nope. Snape had that. Now shush, Will and Jack are going on a cruise..." The second voice faded away.

When the voice came back on, it was breathing funny. "Postman, seeing as my minion is currently in the ER, and is the only holder of the remote, please just leave the package on the floor and – Where'd he go?"

The foyer was empty, except for the ringing footsteps of a cowardly man, a package, and a clipboard.

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Note to the Pimp'n Dark Lord: Voldemort thought, It is a bad idea for the Pimp'n Dark Lord to sneeze while eroding the box away.

He was about to call Snape to come clean up all the cardboard dust that had been blown around the roomwith the vacuum, but then he remembered Snape wasn't home.

Sadly, Voldemort dragged himself downstairs.

In the foyer, the Dark Lord first saw the machine gun. It was lit in angelic, pure light, and suddenly a choir of heavenly voices filled the air.

"Ah ah ah ahhhhhh…."

Voldemort was momentarily caught up in the awe of miracles, but after a second or two, he shook himself and shouted, "Lucius! What the hell are you doing on Masterpiece Theater?!"

"Nothing, my lord!" Lucius replied hastily, grabbing the remote, "Just an accident!"

"Good! And get that hole in the roof fixed! You know how much I hate sunlight!"

"Yes, my lord." Lucius grumbled, privately resolving to tell Snape to, as soon as he was released from the hospital.

Shaking his head, Voldemort swept past the machine gun.

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The Dark Lord sat up in his bed. Next to him, his nifty digital clock glowed 2:35 am. So Lucius's Friends episode marathon had just started.

Voldemort was positive there was some incredibly important reason he had awoken so suddenly, and thought for quite some time to remember, to no avail.

He went back to sleep.

Again, he woke up, this time remembering. "The machine gun!" he cried. "It's still in the foyer!" Pleased that he had finally recalled the matter, he dropped off again.

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AN: I'm not sure this one is as funny as the others. I had to wring my brain for ideas. But I have some fun things planned, so they should be better!

ginny