The Terrible Storyteller
One night, in the middle of the night, I heard a knock on my door. I grabbed my golden-haired baseball bat and looked through the peep-hole on my door with the bat as high as I could over my shoulder. I lost my grip around the bat and I gasped for air, shocked. 'Holy cow!' I thought when I came to my sense again. 'Wonder what he wants.' The thought flew through my head. I just had to open the door now, he had probably heard the loudly bang that sounded when my bat hit the ground.
"Hello!" he said like he was a kind of vaccumsalesman.
"Uhm, hi." I answered shyly.
"Can I come in for a cup of tea?" he asked at the same time as he took one step in.
I let him in like the good hostess I was. After I had closed the door I led him to my living-room and asked him what flavor he wanted for his tea.
"Blackcurrant, please." he answered.
I nodded and went to the kitchen to fix the tea. As I got back in the living-room I looked at him and asked the question that couldn't leave my head.
"If you don't mind me asking, why are you here asking for a cup of tea?"
"Because it struck me how long it had been since I last drank a cup of tea and I thought that I just had to get me one right away." He answered.
I sighed. "But isn't you suppose to like torture muggles or something?"
He gave me an angry look and asked where his tea were. I got it for him and poured a cup for myself.
"Where's the sugar?" he shouted suddenly. I jumped by fear and splashed out my tea.
"You don't have to be so grumpy" I mumbled while I fetched a towel to wipe up the tea. After that I brought him the sugar and sat down. Now I was grumpy. He woke me up in the middle of the night and demanded tea with sugar. I could understand why everyone hated him so much. He drank his tea in silence which I couldn't complain about. I was really tired and I just wished that he would finish his damn cup of tea and leave me alone so I could go back to sleep.
"Mm.. This is really good you know." he said trying to lighten the tension. I just sat there staring at my outstanding, dazzling pink carpet.
"You know I wasn't always this evil. I can tell you about how I got this way if you want to."
I stopped staring at my breathtaking, glittering pink carpet and moved my eyes to his hideous nose less face.
"Uhm.. Okey, I guess." I admit I was a bit curios.
He stared at his cup for awhile like he was trying to remember.
"It all starts with my facebook page. I'd just become a member on facebook and I was updating my profile when I got this message from an unknown. It said that I should get a better name than Tom Riddle, that the name were for pussies. I got really upset but it didn't get to me, I was bigger than that. Ehm.. I mean I was better than that." He took a pause to drink some tea. I was getting drowsy again because it wasn't really attention-grabbing when he continued.
"I wrote back and asked him what it was that made the name Tom Riddle wimpish. He answered that it was so lame that his own grand grandmother wouldn't name any of her kids that. I then asked him what his name was. The answer amazed me."
I sat myself up wide waken. It got suddenly interesting.
"He said his name was Lord Phil Voldemort, that he was over ninety and on the way out. He also told me that he was looking for a little brat who was in desperate need of a name renewal. He then asked me if I thought that the little monster was me. I answered real speedy yes without really knowing what it was he was looking for. He then told me that if I visited him before he died I would get a new cooler name."
He then stopped and I, who now was sitting on the edge of my fabulous, tremendous ginger armchair and leaning forward to hear better, fell to the floor by the abrupt stop. I tried to get up again from the upside down situation I was in. It took almost an half-hour to get me upside because the mean little devil on my couch wouldn't help me. He just sat there and sipped on his tea. I was red all up to my hairline of anger when I sat down in my tremendous armchair. I was just about to tell him one or another thing when he finally proceeded.
"When I finally got my hands on a cheap plan ticket I went to see him but got there too late. I sighed and was just about to go home again, this time sad, when a nurse asked me, with an embarrassed laugh when she read my name, if I was Tom Riddle. I just nodded like a ghost and she gave me a letter from that old guy I was going to visit. It showed that I was late by several months and, even though the old man's only demand was that I would visit him before he died, that I would get the coolest name he known."
"What was the name?" I interrupted.
"Cool down there hot stuff." he answered irritated and drank the last of his tea. "The coolest name on earth that the old man knew was.. Lord Phil Voldemort." He sat down the cup and rose. "Well thank you for the tea, now my pause is over and I shall find some muggles to torture. Thanks for the hospitality" He said and showed himself out.
I just sat there in shock. Was that old man insane? Was Lord Phil Voldemort the coolest name he knew? He must have been a crazy, crazy old man. I thought that the story would be better. I got embarrassed. I had consider to tell my dearest friends the story before I knew the end but know I only wanted to burn the memory and never ever hear the story again. I began to clean my fantabulous, exceptional pink carpet who I had spilled tea on to forget that horrifying, gruesome story.