The Mortful Chip

A story written from the perspective of Voldemort. What would have happened if he had a day job? Would anything have been different? Apparently so.

By Jack and Laura (mostly by Laura, but Jack wrote the first two paragraphs ;)

So today, like every day, I looked into my mirror before putting on my robes. I looked into the eyes of my photo of that Potter, and I said to myself, "I will kill you, boy."

I then continued down stairs where, Marian, the death eater who can cook like a god, was just putting breakfast on the table.

Then, after a rousing game of Pin the Nail in the Doggy, I left for work.

My boss tried to fire me again today. I killed him and then re-hired myself.

Later that day, I decided it was time to start in a new direction, so I went and looked for a job in Mc Donald's. Luckily for me, the Asian guy who I happened across wasn't too fond of his job, and i managed to "convince" him to leave the country.

So, I was working on the deep fat fryer, when who should walk in? That Gary boy.

I, being the magnificent and sharp-witted wizard I am, quickly drew my wand. Except, upon doing so, I realised that I had left it at home and in my hand, was a long chip from the fryer: baked to golden perfection.

Cursing my mistake, but also secretly revelling in the fact that I was living one of my life-long fantasies: killing a boy using only a chip and a microwave oven. Suddenly, I realised that this was my chance to do just that!

The Gary boy hadn't yet realised that I was there, being too busy trying to decide between the Aberdeen Angus Burger with quadruple helpings of cheese; or going back to Burger King, where the food was admittedly less golden, but cheaper.

A Plan struck me like lightning. It was the most devious, destructive, desirable, disastrous Plan that had ever been invented! I ran to the ketchup and grabbed the sachets, but realised that you need fingernails to open ketchup sachets. Consequently, I realised you needed fingers to have fingernails.

I almost was launched into a devastating poetic state of philosophy- pondering the meaning of fingernails- when I remembered the chip in my hand and my Plan. This required ketchup, and a microwave oven (not to mention the aforementioned chip).

Unfortunately, I realised the impossibility of acquiring these items, and settled for whacking the boy upside the head with a blender. He passed out long enough for me to run home, get my wand, run back and cast a slavery spell on him.

And so, I lived happily with my slave, as he waited on me, handless and footless (because it amused me to see him hopping in such an odd fashion).

For the rest of my days.