Disclaimer: As I have neither the genius nor love of writer's cramp nessesary to write a tome like Les Mis, I must restrain myself to mediocre fan fiction. All the characters belong to the heirs of Victor Hugo, except for Kodos and Kang, who belong to Matt Groenig and all those other Simpsons people. The situations belong to moi.

Apologies: Hehehe. hehehe. hehehe. I've never written Javert before, but whatever happens to him, keep in mind that he deserves it. This was going to be a fairly ordinary Javert romance, then it just got... weird. If you don't understand the argot, let that be a lesson to you- never skip book the seventh. Best part of the whole behemoth, is book the seventh. Ninteenth century vulgarity is good for confusing french teachers, whereas the modern variety gets one sent to the principal. =)

Javert stalked into the police station, swearing savagely. "Every single one of them!" he hissed. "Dammit, every single bloody one of them!"

The officer on duty looked up from his desk. "What," he mocked. "Did someone swipe your doughnuts again?"

"No." Javert glared at the officer. "Patron Minette is out, the whole lot of them. A clean break. Dammit!" he repeated, aiming a swift kick at the wall. The sudden pain in his toe made him feel better, but only a little. He handed the officer a length of rope, broken off at one end. "One of them, Babet, escaped earlier today. Two more escaped from the dormitory in the Batiment Neuf, using this rope to scale the wall. The fourth drugged a sentry and broke out of solitary. Of the two remaining, Claquesous escaped from the police wagon when we first hauled them in, and we missed Montparnasse altogether. And worst of all, their victim was that convict, and I missed him too."

The officer knew well who Javert meant by that convict. In fact, Javert talked of little else. Jean Valjean, Jean Valjean... it was enough to drive a man crazy. "So did you finally get him?" he asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

Javert kicked the wall again. This time, it made a hole. The other policeman took a notepad out of his desk and wrote upon it: "Fine of 3 francs: damage to city property." Javert took the notepad and read it. Reaching in his waistcoat pocket, he extracted three francs and placed them on the desk. Still seething over the loss of Patron Minette, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

"This is depressing." he thought as he made his way homeward. "My life is going nowhere. I have wasted my whole carreer looking for one man. I have been in the force for thirty years, and I haven't risen above the rank of inspector! Ludicrous! And my personal life, too, is a wreck. Here I am, fifty-two years old, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. I haven't even had a date since I was twenty!"

"So I missed catching Valjean once. All right, so it was once of many many times, but there's always next time. I should probably stop obsessing over this." brooded Javert. "Have I allowed this man to define my whole life? Has it all become the never ending search for Jean Valjean? Maybe I should get out more. Go to the Tuileries, perhaps, or even to the theater. Or maybe I could place a personal ad."

Two days Later...

"Single male, 52, 6 feet tall, grey hair, sideburns. Seeks young female for good times. Police inspector, enjoys criminology and snuff. Inquire at the police station, ask for Javert." read Babet out loud.

"What of it?" asked Montparnasse, who was filing his nails with something he'd found among Eponine's things.

"It's the cogne who nabbed us!" exclaimed Thenardier at the same time.

"The devil! What are we going to maquiller about it?" grunted Brujon.

"Let's show him that Patron Minette don't take well to being pincé." growled Gueulemer.

"I have an idea." said Claquesous.

"Let's hear it." commanded Thenardier. Claquesous briefly outlined his plan. "That's all very well," said the innkeeper when he'd finished. "But where's the fée?"

"At Les Madelonettes."

"What of it, then? We'll use my wife."

The rest of the thugs looked at Thenardier like he had grown a third nose. "Not a chance." said Brujon. "Your wife is an ogre"

"A harpy."

"And she has a beard like a man." This last was said by Montparnasse.

"More than do you, then" muttered Thenardier.

"There's an idea!" exclaimed Babet, pointing at the young bandit.

Montparnasse, who feared nothing, began to panic. "Oh no. No way in hell."

Three days Days after That...

Javert nodded slightly in the general direction of the tall young woman who entered the police station. She was wearing a light blue dress, flattering, but not appropriate for the time of day. Her lips and cheeks were rouged, and her short hair was fried into unnatural curls. A prostitute, decided Javert. Inwardly, he groaned as she approached him. With Jean Valjean as good as caught, he had no time for the petty greivences of every quean that came in. But then, he had promised himself to concentrate less on Valjean. There was more to police work than chasing down one man, after all. The woman handed him a piece of newspaper.

"Inspector Javert?" she inquired in a soft, shy voice.

Javert took the paper. It was his personal advertisment. For the first time, Javert took a good look at the woman. "Why not?" he thought. "After all, she is quite pretty, and Jean Valjean had been as good as caught many, many times before."

 Several hours later, they were walking arm in arm along a path in the Jardin des Plantes. "She's awfully nice." thought Javert. "I should have gotten a life long before this!" He smiled at his charming companion, then led her into a grove popular among the young for romantic trysts.

"Oh, no." Javert's charming companion was inwardly screaming. "This is not good, not good at all. If he tries to make a move on me in here, I will have to reveal that I am really Montparnasse, and then I will be arrested. They will take me into prison in this stupid outfit, and terrible things will happen, from which I am certain I shall not emerge unscathed. But if I don't get him in a secluded area soon, Babet and the others will not beat him up, I will have walked around in a dress for nothing, and he may ask for a second date, which would be unbearably worse."

While thinking this, Montparnasse had been lead into the grove and was now standing with his back to a tree. Javert was gazing at him in a lovelorn way ill-suited to the policeman's features. The effect was terrible. Then Javert leaned close to Montparnasse, grabbed him by the waist, and planted a big wet one on his mouth. Montparnasse panicked.

Javert was knocked down by a hard shove to the middle of the chest. "Get AWAY!!" shouted his date, in a suddenly masculine voice. The police officer struggled to get up, but was downed again by a kick to the shoulder. "Pervert!" yelled the not-quite-woman, who was beginning to look more and more familiar.

"Montparnasse!?!" gasped Javert. He looked again. It was! "Eew! Eew eew eew!" he shreiked. "I kissed Montparnasse! Yuck!" Montparnasse had also turned an interesting shade of pale green. Javert spun around, hoping no-one had seen. No such luck, from the trees melted several figures the inspector recognised as Babet, Gueleumer, Broujon, and Claquesous. They were pointing at him and... laughing!

Javert tried to put on his best stern policeman look, but the gang only laughed harder. Then Montparnasse whacked him in the head with a board with a nail in it.

Meanwhile, in a low Earth orbit...

"Did you see that?" rumbled Kodos, her mucous-covered tentacles waving at the images on the screen.

"Yes, my sister." replied Kang. His tentacles were similarly in motion, and saliva poured from his mouth. "A board with a nail in it. It is only a small thing, compared to the other weapons they will develop, but soon...soon they will have a board with a nail in it so big it will destroy them all!"

Although by nature, space cannot carry sound, for some strange cinematic reason all of Paris heard diabolical laughter as Kodos and Kang's flying saucer spun out of sight.

The End!