Well, back on track with Cajun Time! It's adopted a totally new sort of plot though. Before it was Voldy struggling for six months in the Louisiana wilderness, now it's… well, you'll see.

Disclaimer: I'm just glad I haven't mentioned another pop culture idol… the letters from Avril Lavigne were terrible… So I don't own anything! Especially not the refrigerator box I live in! X-)

"I'm fixn' to (enter subject matter here)"

Studio #2, Food Network™ Headquarters…

"Well folks, welcome back to Tea and Me… I'm your host, Severus!"

The post-minion Death Eater smiled and gave a cheery little wave to the studio audience. All the middle-aged women fainted.

"Today, we have a very special blend. Guys, please give a boiling round of applause to Pomegranate Rooibos!"

A scantily clad model walked onto the set, holding a special teapot.

"Wow," Snape marveled, "wow, just look at that color. Folks this is what we call 'red tea'… Oh man…" he took a sip. "Delicious…"

The crowd oohed and awed.

"And now, let's take some calls from our viewers at home… Tina!" The scantily clad model returned with a phone, offering it to Snape, who took it.

"Our first caller! Danny, from LA in America… Danny, what d'ya got for us?"

The perky grin slid off the TV host's face as his listened. After a minute, he stood hastily, handing the receiver to his model.

"I'm sorry ladies and-" he gave the audience a quick scan "- er, gentleman, but I've just gotten an emergency call, and I can't ignore it. But no worries, Tina'll take care of you!" He dashed off, his dramatic black robe billowing behind him, well, dramatically.

[Government confidential[Government confidential, CIA stakeout…

The voice crackled thorught the spotty hand-held radio: "Signore, ho loro una serratura." [Sir, I've got a lock on them.)

"Excellent." The commander said gruffly. "You think I can bring them in?"

"Negazione, signore. Ci sono armi dappertutto questi tipi." [Negative, sir. There are weapons all over these guys.)

"What're our options?"

"Non – Santo!" [I don't – Holy!)

The explosion rattled even the speakers of the walkie-talkie. The commander shook it fiercely. "Agent Red Leader? Come in, Agent Red Leader!" He slammed his fists into the table, howling, "Where are you, Agent Red Leader, damnit?!"

"Siamo sotto fuoco nemico! Ottenga le truppe fuori, io le terrà fuori!" [We're under enemy fire! Get the troops out; I'll hold them off!)

"But Agent Red Leader -!"

"Vada! Ora! Non abbiamo molto tempo!" [Go! Now! We don't have much time!)

Reluctantly, the commander began ordering the rest of the troops out. "We'll miss you." He half choked as the last of the men were evacuated.

All he heard on the other line was static, and one of the privates buying Taps off iTunes.

Malfoy Manor, somewhere in the UK…

"What are those things?" Lucius pointed upward at a small white device stuck to the ceiling.

"Smoke detectors." Bellatrix said. "Since Snape left, and we no longer notice there's a fire until all exits have been blocked and we're forced to be reincarnated, I decided it was a good idea. Especially," she shot Lucius a glare, "after that microwavable popcorn incident."

Lucius ignored her and clicked on the TV. His Friends episode would be on soon, and it was no time to be distracted by one of Bellatrix's annoying grudges.

But to his horror, he discovered that his program had been cancelled, displaying only a screen of black and white, reading "Death Eaters of Malfoy Manor: Your Dark Lord needs your help. This is Danny Ocean broadcasting to you now with a plan. Please respond by answering your ringing doorbell. Sincerely, Danny Ocean."

"What the #$#$?" Lucius muttered, got up, smacked the TV, and watched, satisfied, as the message flickered and vanished.

He sat back down contentedly just as the theme song came to and end. Not even those bloody aliens could keep him from his hourly portion of sit-com-palooza.

He was ten minutes in, when he looked away from the screen. "Anybody else hear that annoying ringing sound?" he shouted loudly

"I think it's the doorbell. I was ignoring it incase it was one of those stupid Girl Scouts again." Answered Bellatrix.

"Just get the pepper-spray ready and answer it. And shouldn't the sprinkler system be working too?"

"Good idea, Lucius." Bellatrix called.

She answered the door.

Brown Plantation, Bayou, Deep South, Good Ol' US of A

Voldemort didn't understand how anyone could inhabit Louisiana. Honestly, their remedies for a snapping turtle maiming was to pour gumbo on the wound and leave it outside of the mosquito net at night for the nest two weeks.

He was lying on his straw mat, covered by an alligator skin blanket. His dinner had been gumbo with craw-daddies. The same gumbo that had been used on his hand, as a matter of fact.

At supper, Pa had taken so long saying grace in his southern drawl that Voldemort had forgotten what the man had been talking about.

And Ma had exchanged all of Voldemort's robes, cloaks, and satin underwear with overalls. Only overalls. His pedicure was sure to be ruined.

He rolled over, making sure to keep his hand in the open, swarming air. The good thing, he reflected with an optimistic side that he didn't normally acknowledge, was that the frogs in the swamp were quite peaceful.

Well, until he realized that the frogs were in the bit of swamp inside the house.

Make that inside his mosquito netting.

He swore, quietly, so not to wake Pa and Ma sleeping two feet away on his left, and Billy, Barb, Bob and Beau to his right.

Sighing, the Dark Lord fell asleep almost wishing he was back getting beat up by other inmates.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

AN: (wince) That was short. By the way, that whole "Agent Red Leader" thing was my tribute to Star Wars. I've always thought how horrible to be Puce Leader. Just a random piece of my head.