Mission One: Henchleaders

I don't know how many of the other contestants have raised an indestructible cheerleader, but I certainly have. For our first challenge, it was clear what I had to do. I needed cheerleaders. There's no stronger force than a cadre of females chanting and moving suggestively in unison. Growing up in Texas, I've seen many a football game. And while, yes, I myself am a Cheesehead, I couldn't help notice how remarkable the Dallas Cowboys are. All the crazy Texans around me, which I don't necessarily like to associate myself with, devoted their lives to cheering on America's Team.

And the Team did well, very well. Why? Simple, the most important factor of any good sports team: cheerleaders. How could anyone expect to throw a ball without feeling the rush of spirit provided by bouncing pom-poms and enemy-crushing rhymes? It can't be argued that the best in the business are the beautiful ladies in blue and white.



Now...how do I acquire these women? It was a familiar task. I was reminded of my high school years, all that time wasted in a futile pursuit of unobtainable women. If only I had my Haitian back then.

Luckily, I have him now. Every good super-villain needs an upper-tier henchman, and with the power to suck memories from people's minds, The Haitian makes a pretty good squad leader. I quickly put him to good use on this challenge. After all, delegation is the reason for henchmen in the first place.

"Go find Jerry Jones," I ordered him. "Bag him, tag him, bring him to me."

The Haitian left. While he was gone, I ordered take-out and watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Finally, The Haitian arrived with a duffel bag. He tossed it onto the floor and said, "Here he is."

I unzipped the duffel bag, and out popped the meanest oil man I've ever met.

"What the Hell is going on here?" he asked in a flustered fit of rage.

"Look here, Jerry. You deserve far worse treatment for firing Tom Landry, but I'm willing to let you off easy with a simple deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"I want your cheerleaders."

"In what capacity?"

"Full capacity. For as long as I need them."

"I'm no pimp," he stated and attempted to walk away. The Haitian stepped in front of him.

"Now, now," I said, "I know you're no pimp, but you're a business man. I can pay you handsomely."

"I'm listening." I could see the dollar signs in his eyes.

"Two billion."

After some tough negotiating, I got him to call up the girls and get them headed out here. As for the payment, he talked me up to $3.5 billion and seven color copiers. I decided to let The Haitian handle his "payment".

The girls arrived, and were disappointed by the Motel 8. I've never known Texas girls to be so picky. I quickly got them motivated by explaining the complexities and importance of the paper business. They were ready to bag and tag.

"Like, oh, my God, you guys! Paper is way totally cool!"

"We work for the man in horn-rimmed glasses! Let's go girls, let's kick some asses!"

"His morals: questionable. You have been warned. Look out for large spectacles, with the rims horned!"

"One, Two, Three, Four, I'll eat your brain and ask for more. Five, Six, Seven, Eight, You can be my homecoming date!"