Disclaimer: I do not own John Travolta or the song Bad Day. I do however, own this sick and twisted version of Voldemort.

Voldemort and the Muggle Careers

Chapter 4: There Are No Werewolves Here

After Voldemort botched up another job, they decided to lay low for awhile. Snape couldn't walk out in the muggle world without anyone thinking he was that Wendy girl's relative, or her real father; since, they believed, that Mrs. Farley had an affair and they were secretly in love, and Wendy was their love child. Snape was constantly proving the rumors false; he said that if they did have an affair, why didn't the other two look like Wendy? They were supposed to be identical triplets after all.

Many people were constantly tell the police that a certain albino man in black robes with red eyes and a nose that were two slits was the real culprit. These people were quickly silenced by ways only known to Voldemort.

One day, Voldemort was strolling through the town, brain storming for another job. Who knew he would go through so many? Anyway, he entered a nice neighborhood. He stopped in front of one. A man came out of the house wearing a blue pinstripe suit. He was carrying a sign under his arm. He placed it firmly into the lawn.

"For sale," Voldemort read.

And those two words sealed his fate . . . and Voldemort's.


Voldemort burst into the Death Eaters' lair with a giant grin. He was not wearing his usual black robes anymore. Instead, he wore a blue pinstripe suit with a navy colored tie. His shoes were black. It was shined so much that a person could easily use it in place of a mirror.

A few of his followers were busy watching television. Bellatrix was reading a very interesting book entitled So Your Boss is an Albino. He shook his head. When would they learn that reading rots your mind? Television is much more education. Oh, well, he would speak to her later. Snape was in the corner making a potion. I hope it's a special shampoo for his oily hair. Merlin knows he needs it. I should make a few more rules here, like self hygiene, thought Voldemort.

He looked around. Lucius was missing. Oh, that's right. They're having their second honeymoon in Transylvania.

Draco was playing Wizard's Chess by himself…and he was losing. Pathetic. It was a very boring day in the lair today.

Voldemort cleared his throat. No one looked at him. He growled in frustration. He cleared his throat louder this time. Still he was ignored. He coughed. No one cared. This time, he faked a whooping cough.

"You really should see a healer about that cough," said Bellatrix, not taking her eyes away from her book.

Everyone else mumbled an agreement.

"It wouldn't look good if the wizard that killed Harry Potter died of a cough," said Draco. He moved his knight, killing a pawn.

"Idiots," murmured Voldemort.

He blocked the television from the view of Rodolphus, who was Bellatrix's husband, Peter, which took forever to make Nagini vomit him out, Macnair, and Avery. They groaned. All they could see was Voldemort from the waist down. He was wearing blue. Odd…but they did not question it. He was an evil wizard that would not hesitate to kill a kitty after all.

"D-do you m-mind moving, master," squeaked Peter.

"Yes, I do mind," said Voldemort.

"But we're finally going to find out if Aurora is really pregnant with her and Darien's love child," complained Rodolphus.

"Please don't say 'love child' near me," grumbled Snape.

"Yeah, and her husband Alistair is walking towards them at this very moment. If he finds out that she's been unfaithful, he'll surely kill Darien in a blind furry," elaborated Macnair.

"He'll end in Azkaban for this, unless he manages to bribe the Minister, but he's just a poor wizard impersonating a muggle blacksmith," said Avery.

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "What have I told you about watching wizard soap operas?"

"Make sure it's on bootleg cable?" said Rodolphus with uncertainty.

"No-I mean yes, but not that one," said Voldemort.

"Um, call you to watch with us?" suggested Peter.

"Yes, I'm glad someone remembered!" exclaimed Voldemort. He squeezed in between Peter and Macnair. Still they refused to look him in the eye. Usually he kicked them out, but he seemed to be in a very cheerful mood.

They watched "Oh, My Love Child" very intently. Snape banged his head against the wall. They said 'love child' in almost every sentence. Finally, the soap opera was over. In one hour, they managed to post pone the results of the pregnancy test until next week's episode. The most annoying part was the commercial breaks were every five minutes, and they lasted for about seven minutes.

Voldemort stood up. "This awful commercials and ads will be eliminated once I takeover this show! How can they not tell me what happens?!"

Draco finally looked up to see Voldemort. "Why are you wearing that ridiculous-Ah, who are you and what have you done with our leader?!"

"It's me, Lord Voldemort."

"Prove it," said Bellatrix, wand pointed at his throat.

"Bellatrix put that wand down or I will Crucio you to the brink of insanity. Do you want to end up like the Longbottoms?" snarled Voldemort.

Bellatrix gulped. She lowered her wand slightly. 'Voldemort' looked very different. He had brown hair and blue eyes. He had an actual nose, and his skin tone was normal. Snape stood up and circled him.

"Will you stop that? You're making me dizzy," complained 'Voldemort.'

"If you are really Voldemort, then you don't mind answering a question only the real Voldemort knows," said Snape.

"Oh, just get the truth potion!" exclaimed Rodolphus.

"I'm not answering anything under veritaserum," retorted 'Voldemort.' "Remember what happened last time?"

They had decided to play truth or dare one night during their top secret Death Eater meetings. Everyone who picked truth was forced to drink the truth potion before answering. Needless to say, Voldemort accidentally spilled his darkest, most humiliating secret.

Everyone snickered at the memory. Voldemort glared at them.

"What was your darkest, most humiliating secret?" asked Draco.

"You know very well what it is. It was your question," said Voldemort.

"Refresh our memories," said Snape.

Voldemort glowered. He did not like this at all, but if this is what it took for them to believe him, then so be it.

"CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO!" yelled Voldemort at the top of his lungs.

Everyone fell to the ground, writhing in agony. They screamed out in pain. Voldemort stopped the curse before it did too much harm to their already damaged minds. Draco raised his hand and said, "That's definitely Voldemort."

Everyone stood up and dusted their robes, freeing themselves of the dust bunnies that had collected on the floor.

"So, why are you wearing that?" asked Draco.

"I'm glad someone noticed it," said Voldemort.

"We noticed it," whispered Rodolphus to Peter, Macnair, and Avery.

Voldemort glared at them.

"It has to do with my new career."

Snape and Draco froze. The others were in the dark about this little past time of the dark lord.

"What does he mean by career?" asked Avery.

"I thought he was dark lord. Isn't that an occupation?" asked Rodolphus.

"Snape, Draco, I want you to fill them in on my new plan."

"What is your next job?" asked Snape reluctantly.

"Real estate agent," said Voldemort wickedly.

"That still doesn't explain why you look so different," said Draco.

"Well, muggles won't be comfortable around someone who looks like me, so I kidnapped an actual real estate agent and used his hair for Polyjuice Potion. Oh, and one of you might want to retrieve him from the dungeons. I don't think he likes it there," replied Voldemort.

"License?" asked Snape.

"Stole it from that man in the dungeons."

"Oh."


Voldemort stood outside the house he was supposed to sell. He was looking in a mirror provided by Snape, who was also holding it. The mirror was even taller than Snape. Voldemort fixed his tie and his suit. Draco was waiting for Snape across the street. He had insisted that he would rather not be seen near them.

Snape staggered a bit from the weight of the mirror. Draco was rolling in laughter at the look on Snape's face. He was getting all red, beads of sweat rolled down his face, and his cheeks were all puffed out. He was like a blow fish, much like Mrs. Puff from Spongebob.

Eventually, he sent Snape away. The potions master joined Draco across the street. They hid in a bush, which they had been doing quite often recently.


Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Peter, Avery, and Macnair were in shock. Their eyes became bug eyed and their mouths were wide open. In fact, a fly flew in and out of Peter's mouth several times.

They had just been told of Voldemort's plan.

Rodolphus was the first to speak. "I think that's bloody brilliant!"

Bellatrix glared at her husband. "I married an idiot," she mumbled.

"Anyway, we can't let him know what we really think about," said Draco.

"Exactly, we have to support him in everything he does; give him encouragement and a helping hand every once in awhile," said Snape.

"Like a parent?" Avery asked in disgust.

"Yes, like a parent," said Snape, sighing.

"But that's so-" Avery couldn't find the right to describe it.

"Un-death eater-ish," finished Peter.

"So is acting like a muggle instead of just ripping apart their limbs slowly and painfully," muttered Draco.


Voldemort smiled eagerly as someone opened the front gate and walked towards him. The man stepped back. Something was weird about this real estate agent. An evil aura seemed to emit from him. The man shook it off and continued walking. He needed a new house, badly. They last one was destroyed in a strange fire. It was blue…and there was a strange mark above his house. It was a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Very odd.

Anyway, Voldemort refused to shake hands with the man. He looked odd. He was wearing an outfit that looked very similar to what one would wear in the 1700s.

The man stared Voldemort right in the eye. Voldemort was a little unnerved by the man's intense stare.

The man took a deep breath and opened his mouth. "The British are coming! The British are coming!"

"What are you talking about? I'm British. I'm already here."

"Sorry, I was rehearsing for my play tonight. I am Paul Revere."

"Okay, Paul, let's get on with this tour," said Voldemort.

"No, I'm playing Paul Revere. My real name is Kenji."

"That's Japanese." Voldemort paused before continuing. "You don't look Japanese. You have an English accent!"

"My parents liked Japan a lot. They also loved anime…anyway; let's get on with this tour."

Voldemort blinked. "Right." He opened the door for Kenji. I must remember to ask Snape what this 'anime' is, he thought.

Kenji walked in. Voldemort followed. The English man with the Japanese name looked around. He faced a spiraling stairwell. Several more hallways and doors led to other rooms. Voldemort motioned for Kenji to follow, malevolently. Kenji laughed nervously.

He led him through a random red door that Kenji was sure was never there before. They were in the kitchen. Voldemort walked towards the refrigerator.

"As you can see, the furniture is included with the house, along with a fully stocked fridge," he said, while opening it.

Kenji gasped. He turned as white as a sheet of paper.

"What's wrong?" asked Voldemort. He couldn't have a potential buyer faint before paying.

Kenji began babbling. With a shaky hand, he pointed to the fridge. Voldemort looked down.

"Oh, you mean that? That's nothing. Didn't you know that a brutal murder had been committed in this house when the husband found out that his wife was cheating on his best friend? He killed her, his friend, and his one year old child. Apparently, he was going to eat them for dinner. I do hope we're not intruding. Who knows what a murderous raving lunatic could do?" asked Voldemort, shrugging.

The evil wizard kicked the corpses on the floor that had been cut up to fit in the refrigerator.

He stood next to Kenji. He patted him on the shoulder. "Come, we have much more to see."

He led Kenji through another door that had magically appeared. This one was blue, the manly color. Kenji followed Voldemort through the mysteriously long hallway. They had been walking for five minutes, and there was still no end in sight, or at least another door.

Kenji turned around to see how far they had been walking. The bright blue door was only a foot away from them.

"Um, excuse me Mr. Real Estate Agent, but we've been walking for over five minutes. Why aren't we any farther away from this door?"

Voldemort pondered that thought for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. "I think we took a wrong turn somewhere."

"How could we have taken a wrong turn when we've been walking in a straight line?"

"Don't question it! I'm always right," said Voldemort.

They opened the blue door, but instead of going into the kitchen again, they were in the dining room.

Kenji fought back the urge to run screaming from the house.

"This is the dining room. As you can see, the table is made from cherry wood, along with matching chairs and china cabinet." Voldemort said this like it was something as great as his defeat of the Boy-Who-Is-No-Longer-Alive. The evil wizard continued, "The hardwood flooring has been kept in perfect condition. A beautiful, hand woven rug is spread over it."

Now, the rug and the floor weren't in the best condition. Kenji suppressed the urge to vomit. Blotches of blood covered the ground. He swore he saw an eyeball in the china cabinet staring back at him wherever he went.

Kenji backed slowly away. He hit the door. He looked at it. It was yellow now. He didn't care. He was too freaked out. He opened the door with more than enough force necessary and ran. He was in bedroom. It was empty, and looked perfectly normal. He sighed in relief. Voldemort appeared out of thin air on the bed.

"This bedroom was designed by a very famous French designer. It was made especially for newlywed couples," said Voldemort.

Kenji back away again. He found a wooden door this time. He opened it. It was the closet. He screamed.

"Can't a guy get any rest around here?" asked a very irritated man. He was pale with sharp fangs. Blood was dripping from the sides of his mouth. He emerged from the closet, but closer inspection revealed that he was really in a coffin in the closet.

Kenji ran, screaming. After trying about six more doors, he found the one that led to the stairwell, where the exit was. Before he left, an odd man shuffled into the room. He was wearing an old bathrobe drenched in blood. He was twitching, and wringing his hands.

"Hehehehehe, I killed her- my beautiful wife. Oh, how beautiful she was. And trustworthy….but no! I saw her. I saw her. Oh, Kenji, how could you do that? She was mine. My boy….he wasn't mine either. He belonged to that filthy Kenji…"

"Do you know me?" asked Kenji cautiously.

"Kenji…Kenji…Kenji…"

"Yes."

He suddenly looked up with bloodlust in his eye. (He only had one eye.) He pulled out a knife from inside his robe. He sauntered slowly towards Kenji.

Kenji opened the door and ran. He didn't stop screaming until he reached the airport, bought a plane ticket, and left the country. Screw his play. There were way too many psychos in England.

"Oh, hello, Bob," said Voldemort.

Bob looked at Voldemort with his empty eye socket.

"I think I know where your eye is," said Voldemort. "Follow me. By the way, are you interested in buying this magnificent house? It has its own vampire…"


After the murderous raving lunatic, and the vampire, drove Voldemort away from the house, the dark wizard dejectedly walked to the other side of the street. He faced a bush and sighed heavily.

"I have yet to sell a house," he said.

The bush rustled. Voldemort stared at it.

"Draco, Severus, I know you two are in there. Come out."

"Actually, we're in this bush," said Draco as he and Snape crawled out of the neighboring bush. They began picking the leaves and twigs out of their hair.

"If you're in there, then who's in there?" asked Voldemort, dumbstruck.

Snape shrugged. Draco had a blank expression on his face.

The bush rustled again. Voldemort crouched down. He slowly moved his hand toward it. Something jumped out. It was a squirrel. It stared at him with its head cocked. The dark wizard also did the same. The squirrel wrinkled its nose. It's black, beady eyes seemed to pierce into Voldemort's soul, well, one seventh of a soul to be exact. Just then, Voldemort's facial features began to morph. The Polyjuice Potion was beginning to wear off.

The squirrel stared at him a mixture of curiosity and fear. Slowly, the face that everyone knows associates with Voldemort came back. The small, furry animal seemed to gulp. It ran back into the bush, quivering. Voldemort stood up.

"Well, that was odd," he said.

The trip back to Voldemort's lair was a long and unpleasant one. Snape and Draco offered no words of comfort that one would expect from a close friend. They were too busy trying to stifle their laughter, but it's not like Voldemort could hear it. He was humming loudly. It wasn't a random melody. No, it had a familiar tune, and it was oddly appropriate for the situation. It was "Bad Day" sung by Daniel Powter. Eventually, both Draco and Snape grew irritated. It was out of tune, but the song was discernable.

Voldemort continued humming, and even sang the refrain, until they reached the foot of his castle. It had very pointy towers and the dark clouds looming above made it dark and foreboding. Draco blinked in confusion. They had to pass through a forest before reaching the castle. The forest was full of cute, fuzzy animals with a cloudless sky overhead. The castle wasn't that far from the forest, and yet, it was dark and sinister looking.

They climbed the impossibly long stairs that led to the ten foot high door. It opened automatically for Voldemort.

He stormed into the specially designated room in his castle called 'The Lair.' His death eaters looked up just in time to see him plop down on the sofa. He conjured up a pint of rocky road ice cream and began eating.

"What happened?" Bellatrix asked Snape.

"He didn't sell the house," he whispered back.

"Oh"

"Milord, Milord!" called Rodolphus.

"What?"

"I think this'll brighten your spirits," he replied as he handed him a newspaper.

Voldemort read the ad with a smile slowly forming on his lips. He had one more chance to prove that he could be a great real estate agent.


Voldemort stood at the corner of a muggle street in a neighborhood. It was a foggy night. The moon overhead was the only source of light. The street lamp had flickered out a few minutes ago. Voldemort was wearing a long, beige drench coat with a black bowler hat. Although he took more Polyjuice potion, he wanted to be careful. He looked down the street and saw a couple walking toward him.

As the neared him, he saw that they were very young. They seemed to be in their late twenties. The woman had blonde, curly hair with green eyes. The man had disheveled brown hair.

"Ah, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Pryce," greeted Voldemort.

"Yes we are, but you can call me Muffy, and this is my husband Daffy."

"Right and you can call me Mr. Real Estate Agent."

They stared at him with an odd look. "Okay," replied Daffy.

Voldemort took out his wand from the coat pocket. The Pryce couple eyed him warily.

"Is that a wand?" asked Muffy.

"Oh, this old thing," said Voldemort, pausing to think of a lie. "It's my lucky charm. Hey, is that John Travolta?" He pointed to a completely random direction. Being the gullible people that the Pryces are, they looked in that direction.

Voldemort put out his wand arm and waved. There was a sudden woosh of air and a double Decker bus stood in front of Voldemort.

They turned back. Muffy mumbled, "Darn, and I really wanted to meet him. We must have just missed him."

"Hey, when did that bus get here?" asked Daffy.

"We're going to use this bus to get to that wonderful country home you wanted," said Voldemort, completely ignoring his question.

A conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began speaking loudly.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard-"

"Witch or wizard?" asked Muffy.

The man looked at them with a very curiously. He opened his mouth to say something. Voldemort quickly interrupted. "It's theme night. Every Friday they have a theme. Last week it was medieval."

"Oh, that sounds fun. We should always ride this bus on Fridays, dear. What do you think?" asked Daffy.

"That would be very delightful," replied Muffy.

The conductor moved to the side so they young couple could climb on. Voldemort followed, but the conductor blocked him.

"Who are you?"

"Lord Voldemort, and if you don't get out of my way this instant, you'll be seeing your damned ancestors very soon."

He laughed nervously, and let him through.

Muffy and Daffy were awed by the interior decoration. There no seats. In their places were several beds. Some people had already called it a night and were snoring very loudly. A large chandelier was suspended from the ceiling. The couple cleverly chose a bed that was not under it. They sat down.

"So, how much will it be to take us to Hogsmeade?" asked Voldemort.

"Nothing," the conductor said, quickly. "You can ride for free."

"Are you sure? I mean, I've got a vault full of gold. A few gold galleons used here and there will make no dent in my account."

"You are a celebrity. Celebrities ride for free."

"Really? I didn't know I was a celebrity. Wow, people look up to me…" Voldemort trailed off as he sat down.

Now, since Daffy and Muffy are Muggles, they have no idea how the Knight Bus is driven, and they are in for quite the surprise.

It was as if an earthquake had started, and that was what was driving the bus. They were tossed back and forth from the walls and the beds. There were no seatbelts, and they didn't have a chance to grip onto something. Voldemort was sitting on his bed, reading a newspaper he found on the floor. It was today's edition. There was nothing new, just the usual pandemonium. His legs were crossed, and he didn't bother holding onto to something idea. It was like the bed was glued to him.

"Ooh, my horoscope!" he exclaimed. "Hmm, it says that Capricorn will experience many disappointments and feel useless for the next few months. Their luck will change once Pluto comes into view without the aid of a telescope." Voldemort paused. "'Pluto coming into view without the aid of a telescope will not happen for a couple centuries, or ever…'" He burned the newspaper, and the screams from the moving pictures could be heard as mere squeaks.

Daffy and Muffy looked at him. He laughed nervously. Instead of answering their questioning looks, he said, "Look, we're here!"

The conductor opened the door for them. Daffy and Muffy shoved Voldemort out of the way to reach the nearest bush. Sounds of retching filled the night air. Voldemort whistled a merry tune while he waited.

After a while, Voldemort began leading them into a quant little town called Hogsmeade. It was a dark, cloudy night. The moon was hidden from view. The wind picked up. The signs above the doors swayed, making a squeaky noise. Dust swirled around their feet. It seemed like a scene from a horror movie.

Voldemort led them out of the town and into the woods. They trekked through all the wonders of the forest, but no creatures were stirring, which struck Voldemort as very odd. On the other hand, Muffy and Daffy were excited to have a small village and a forest near the potential house they might buy.

A large shack like building stood in front of them. The architecture seemed shabby, but well built if it survived for so long. It was surrounded by a fence.

"Oh, I can make this into a beautiful garden," exclaimed Muffy.

At the moment, a light blanket of snow covered the ground. A chill wind whipped by. Voldemort looked up. The clouds were parting, revealing a full moon.

"Crap," said the dark wizard.

"What did you say?" asked Daffy.

"Nothing…anyway, this place is nicknamed the Shrieking Shack by the inhabitants of the village," explained Voldemort.

"Why?" asked Muffy.

"They claim that it's haunted, but it is all nonsense."

Daffy's eyes squinted as he looked towards the horizon.

"Is that a castle?" he asked.

"Why, yes it is. It's been abandoned for years. It's forbidden to enter, but it can make into an excellent tourist attraction, especially with such a nice village along the way. You could conduct a tour and say it's haunted," suggested Voldemort.

"That's a brilliant idea, Daffy. We'll just need to fix up the Shrieking Shack a bit, and business will boom," said Muffy happily.

"Oh, Muffy, that sounds wonderful!" said Daffy.

They embraced. Voldemort turned around, making a gagging sound.

"You okay?" asked Muffy.

"Yeah."

Suddenly, they heard clawing from coming inside of the shack. Then, ferocious growling pierced the night air. Voldemort backed away.

"What was that?" asked Daffy, cowering behind his wife.

"A rabid dog?" suggested Voldemort, and then added to himself, "I hope."

They slowly backed away. The doors were thrown open. A strange creature walked out that was taller than any man. It had wolf and human like characteristics. Saliva spilled out of its mouth. It tilted its head back and howled. They looked up to see the full moon.

"Is that a...werewolf?" gulped Daffy.

"Werewolf? What are you talking about? They don't exist. There are no werewolves here," said Voldemort nervously.

He and Daffy began bickering about the existence of werewolves. They didn't notice that a certain blond was walking towards the creature with her hand extended.

"It's okay. Are those icky people being mean to you?"

It whined and bowed its head. Muffy patted its head and scratched the back of its ears. It seemed to really enjoy it.

"Now, be a good doggy and don't bother anyone, okay?"

The werewolf nodded.

Voldemort and Daffy were left with their mouths open. Muffy walked back towards them.

"Such a nice dog," she said. "Can we keep it?"

"Um, Muffy, do you have a job at the moment?" asked Voldemort.

She shook her head. "Why?"

"Would you be interested in becoming a tamer for an organization called the Death Eaters?"

"What does this organization do?"

"Wreak havoc on society, what else?"

"No thank you."

"Oh, let's go then."

Needless to say, the Pryces did not buy the Shrieking Shack…


Voldemort sat on the steps of the last possible house he could sell. He did very poorly on his last two jobs. He requested that none of his followers come along, in case he failed, again.

A nice man was supposed to meet him about buying this quaint house behind him. It seemed perfectly normal. He saw a car pull up in the drive way next door. A very fat man came out, followed by his wife, who had the face of a horse. Lastly, a very fat boy/whale exited the car. Wait a second; he recognized the boy/whale. He sold him ice cream when he was an ice cream man. He waved. They ignored him.

"I'm gonna kill them in their sleep," he muttered.

The man he was waiting for walked up to him. He was in his late forties with thinning hair. He wore glasses and a suit.

"I'm John Johnson," he said, extending his hand.

"I'm Lord Voldemort. I prefer Mr. Real Estate Agent, though," said Voldemort.

"Riiight."

Voldemort gave him a full tour of the house. It was absolutely perfect. No vampires in the closets. No werewolves in the yard. No murder scene in the dining room or kitchen. And no never ending hallways with magical doors.

The last place to see was the kitchen. Voldemort opened the door for Mr. Johnson. There was a stout, chubby man in a flannel bath robe bent down, looking into the fridge. He turned around, with a bucket of chicken legs. He was wearing a stained white shirt with smiley face boxers.

"Who are you?" asked Voldemort.

"I own this house. Who the hell are you?"

"You mean you're not selling?" The man shook his head and took a bite of chicken.

"Fuck," said Voldemort.


CrazyDreamerGirl: Sorry it took forever to update. I've been really busy. I just got a puppy, and that's taking up any free time I have left. By the way, today is Voldemort's 80th Birthday. I looked it up...I know I'm weird...So...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY VOLDIE!

He asks that you review, and any flames given will be used to cook his birthday dinner.

I also wanna wish you guys a Happy New Year, and a belated Happy Holidays.