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The Play's the Thing!

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Old July 2nd, 2008, 2:49 am
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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The Play's the Thing!

This is a sequel to Death or Chocolate. But you don't need to have read DoC in order to understand what's going on. Now, without further ado, I give you...

The Play's the Thing!

Lord Voldemort was many things. He was handsome, he was witty, he was charming, and he was extremely good at badminton. He was also very good at fooling himself.

On the night of his return to power, however, Voldemort had realized an undeniable truth: despite his charisma and charm, he was running short on followers. Now, over two years later, he tried to figure out a solution. “There must be another way, Severus,” he said, after killing a potential DE. “I like destroying lives as much as the next man, but our ‘join the forces of evil or die’ slogan is still killing us. No pun intended. You know how I hate puns.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Snape.

“‘Death or Chocolate’ failed miserably. I should have seen that coming miles away…”

The Dark Lord looked to the sky for inspiration. Would it be considered copyright infringement to use broom writing? Probably. Curse that Wicked Witch of the West and the stupid Warner Brothers… not to forget the Warner sister, Dot. He especially hated her.

“What we need,” Voldemort said at last, “is a sort of… Oh, I don’t know… rally or something. Some event to draw interest to our cause.” He paced to-and-fro as his loyal servant disposed of the body. What could possibly make his campaign for power more effective?

“You look very pensive, my lord. I—”

Pensieve! That’s it, Severus! We hijack the local PBS (Pensieve Broadcasting Service) network and air a program of our own. This is brilliant. I’m brilliant. Ooh, goody!”

Graciously ignoring the term “Ooh, goody”, Snape asked what sort of program he had in mind.

“Well,” said Voldemort, “we could run a telethon or… or… an infomercial… or…” What could they air? Then it occurred to him. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Snape cocked an eyebrow. “Not being highly trained in Legilimency, I think not.”

“We put on a mini-series.” He waited for Snape’s eminent exclamation of delight, but it did not come. “Snape, you’re not celebrating my genius.”

Three Crucios later, Snape was jumping for joy… well, more like writhing in pain, but Lord Voldemort was willing to take that as excitement.

“This is going to be wonderful. Aren’t you excited, Snape?”

“Ecstatic, my lord.”


It had been decided that they would put on a Shakespearean play. (Wormtail had wanted Hello, Dolly! but they couldn’t get the rights on such short notice.) But which Shakespeare play would they do?

At their weekly potluck/death and destruction meeting, all the local DE’s sat down and tried to decide.

“I vote for Big Mac!” said Crabbe.

Snape grimaced. “I think you mean Macbeth,” he said through gritted teeth.

“No, I’m hungry. Big Mac. Yum.”

“How about Ham?” Goyle drooled.

“Mm. Ham.”

Hamlet. HamLET, you over-grown, pie-eating imbecile!”

“Severus,” said Wormtail, “your blood pressure.”

“Or we could do A Midsummer’s Ice Cream!” Avery joined in… probably just to annoy Snape.

“I do not think that the Dark Lord would want to put on a romantic comedy,” said Lucius Malfoy.

“Romantic? Romance. Dark Lord. Yum!” said Bellatrix.

Bellatrix’s husband rolled his eyes.

Lucius glowered at his sister-in-law. “Like I said, with Bella running rampant, I don’t think the Dark Lord wants to put on a romantic comedy.”

“On the contrary,” said a familiar cool voice from above, “I think it could help with our image.”

Draco wet himself and had to be excused. After his DoC campaign flopped like a dead chicken, he had been submitted to the worst torture of all: Sweatin’ to the Oldies live and in person with Richard Simmons. “The horrors!” Draco moaned as he ran for a change of clean pants.

If Voldemort had lips, Snape knew he would be smirking.

“I have already selected a rather delightful comedy which I think you will come to adore,” said the Dark Lord. “It needs some work, however.”

“My Lord,” said Wormtail, “I have a degree in creative writing and would be more than happy to—”

The Dark Lord continued as though he hadn’t heard a word of Wormtail’s sniveling. “It’s settled, then. We shall perform my glorious work, The Taming of the Shrew, now entitled: Die, Die, Die!”


Last edited by House_Elf_21; July 2nd, 2008 at 4:34 am.
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Old August 7th, 2008, 6:46 am
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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Re: The Play's the Thing!

The Death Eaters looked at each other in shock. What was their master thinking?

Bellatrix Lestrange was the first to recover, but when she spoke, her voice quavered. “M-my lord?”

“Yes, Bellatrix?”

“It’s just—I thought you said this was going to be romantic. N-not that Death isn’t… in a twisted sort of way. I—”

“Silence!” hissed Voldemort. “The next person to question my superior judgement gets a wet-wand willy!”

His followers shuddered. No one felt like having a wet wand tip inserted in his ear.

Voldemort laughed his usual cold laugh and narrowed his red eyes. “Good. I’m so very glad we’re now on the same page. Rehearsals shall begin as soon I’ve completed my alterations. Until then…” He conjured a tall stack of books from thin air. “I suggest you familiarize yourself with this so-called ‘Bard’s’ version.”

As he passed a copy of the play around, Crabbe and Goyle scratched their heads. One look at the pair, and Voldemort knew what the problem was.

“For you two intellectual giants, I’ve prepared a pop-up book version.”

“Ooh! Pictures!” said Crabbe.

After a moment of flipping through his copy, Goyle looked up in confusion.

Again the Dark Lord anticipated his loyal servants’ stupidity. “No, there aren’t any real shrews.”

“Darn!” said Wormtail. “I would have been perfect for that part.”

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