Who wants to be a Super-Villain

AOC: End of the road

2007-12-21T11:36:00.000-08:00

Well the day is done and it is time to head back to a galaxy a long time ago and far far away. I congratulate Dr. Mnemonic …. Uhhh Dr. Demonic , well the Brain in the Jar guy.

I leave China in the capable hands of Samantha. Who better to run a totalitarian communist/capitalist country? I think she will have the brains, will power and ruthlessness to oppress the people and pump out more lead tainted toy and other cheap crap. I just hope none of the old power structure tried to reclaim the land for themselves, she would slay them all and the streets would run with a different kind of red.

Gabby and his guys head off to make a living as re-enactors in Virginia. With the money they made as henchman they decided to get new old uniforms and make it more a hobby than a vocation.

As for me I think I learned a lot on this show. I learnd that….

THE HENCHMAN SHOWS UP.

“Tak, what ate you doing? You not going to make this a “Very Special Blossom” moment are you? Cuz thats kinda girly. The only thing you learned was you got spanked by a Brain in Jar. I can’t believe that he even got more action thatn you did. Did I mention HE IS A BRAIN IN A JAR!!!!!” The Henchman smacks his own head in despair.

“If I was going to have a Very Special Blossom moment, that would make you Joey Lawrence. Right?” I ask

The Henchman just shakes his head and starts looking for the nearest bar.

As I was saying I learned a lot of things, but mostly I learned …..

Koma starts yelling at me. “Oy, Clone freak, did you learn to read the shows contract better. Because if you did you would see that the second place contestant has to clean up the mess the show left. So grab a broom and get to it.” He turns and leaves.

I look out over the island and harbor.

I AM GOING TO NEED A BIGGER BROOM

I really need to read those contracts better. On the other hand I guess that is why Koma is a evil genius.

Nemonok: I win

2007-12-19T11:04:00.000-08:00

Dr. Nemonok rolls up onto the stage.

Nemonok: Ahem. Before I address everyone tonight, I have an announcement to make. Will the owner of the dull gray dropship tail number NX342 please move your vehicle, it is parked in a loading zone. Thank you.

Ladies, gentlemen, mutants, and criminals everywhere. I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart, er the bottom of my nutrient containment exchanger system for awarding me this great honor. By allowing me to win, you have of course declared the obvious that I am the most evil of them all. Thank you.

I would like to take this time to thank the gracious host, Captain Koma, for allowing me to participate today. Koma, you are a brilliant but petty, bitter man. If that’s what it takes for you to be evil, then by all means, roll with it, doctor.

I would also like to thank the judges, the Henchman and Deadpool. My good men, there is certainly room in my master, the malevolent dark lord Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord’s organization for two men of your caliber. It is of course dangerous work, but the rewards are certainly worth it.

Lyn, it is unfortunate that your life has taken a turn like it has. I always found you to be a good looking and very competent actress. Hell, I loved you in Freaky Friday. It is too bad that you chose the path that you have.

Commander Oneida, I am not sure why you guest judged as you are clearly not evil. You do work for an evil government though, and I am proud to see you continue to serve them. Keep up the good work.

Army of (Cl)One, it was an honor besting you in the competition. You are a worthy champion in your own right and good luck to you at your new post guarding the detention center of the Death Star.

To my henches, you have served me well in this competition. You all deserve what is coming to you and I will address that before I leave.

(Music starts to play)

Bah, thank you everyone, I do feel super tonight. You hate me, you really hate me!

(Microphone cuts out)

What you've all been waiting for.

2007-12-18T15:11:00.000-08:00

"And now your hostess with the mostest. Lin!" announces Deadpool.

I walk onto the stage, the music blares out "The Final Countdown."I get to the podium and look out at the audience of four.
No bother. Its an audience and I can work them like the best.

"Wasn't this the greatest Who wants to be Super Villain, ever!" I ask them.
"Hmm sort of." says the red robot.

"But wasn't this the first. We have nothing to compare it with." comments the gay guy in purple and pink.

Ugh! Oh well nothing to do but announce the winner and runner up.

"So onto the reason for this presentation the winner of the inaugural Who wants to be a Super Villain!" I shout expecting the four to cheer and applaud.

"Just give it to the brain in a jar and put me out of my misery." screams Tak.

"But Tak even I don't know who won. The e-mail votes have been kept secret until now." I tell him.

"You really mean there's hope I could have won?" he asks.

"Maybe." I tell him. "And the winner of Who wants to be a Super Villain by 13 votes to 9 is ......"

Dr Nemonock!

You are a Super Villain!

"And as our winner you get to have the certificate of ..... wining."

"And Tak we're so very sorry at your loss and we'd like to give you a certificate too."

"Ok thats all the time we have here. So goodbye and remember don't just try and be a villain. Be a Super Villain."

The final countdown

2007-12-17T19:03:00.000-08:00

Well Its all over people. The votes are in and we do have a winner and a loser for the final.

So I'd like to take some time and delay the final decision and thank those who without their participation none of this would have happened.

Henchy

Thanks without your help and encouragement none of this would have happened.

Deadpool

Not sure why I'm thanking you you but yeah thanks.

Onieda

Its always great to have a guest judge to shake things up. You did real well. Its a pity we didn't get more people who were interested in playing along.

Lin

Thanks Lin. I think?

Of course none of this would have been possible without the suckers umm! players. Thanks a lot for loosing oops! playing.

So there is a result post coming soon.

Lin's doing that.

ugh!

So tune in later this week for the final post in this the inaugural year of Who wants to be a Super Villain.

What!

The network isn't doing this unless the viewers demand it.

Oh great!

Oh yeah with the paltry sum of money left over after Lin's rider cost us $2,ooo a day we've been able to get an act for the final show.

Here they are with their one hit wonder Europe and the Final Countdown.

Time for everyone to decide.

2007-12-15T20:36:00.000-08:00

Now its time for the audience to decide who won.
Of course we are going to have the usual on-line poll again.
But along with this, the past players of WWSV are invited to e-mail me their thoughts on who won the final round.

So who did win this round?

Nemonock with his highly ironic way of taking over China, with hawt chicks.

Or was it Tak. With his three course banquet of doom. Which came with a nice little song from the eighties as well.

Dinner and a show.

Please Vote NOW!!!!

Nemonok: Power to the people

2007-12-15T19:46:00.000-08:00

I’ve been involved with doomsday devices in my day. I have to admit that I’m not a big fan of them, if you kill everyone on the planet, there would be nobody left to psychoanalyze. Despite that, there’s a certain elegance to the totality of the doomsday device. If you’re going to destroy your planet, you can do it in style.

But what kind of a doomsday device should I use? There are many to choose from: cobalt bombs, planet eaters, hyperspace bombs, Death Stars, mass drivers, Trilithium torpedoes, NOVA bombs, Galactic Implosion Devices, Vogon Constructor Ships, ice-nine. The list goes on and on.

For this task, however, I need something tailor made for where we’ll be.

My henches and I flew to the People’s Republic of China in my Shadow Stealthship where I began to work immediately on something that would suit our needs.

“Hey Doctor, you got any shrimp?” Bob the Goon interrupted my work.

“Yes, there is a plate in the microwave.”

“I knew it!” Bob pulled a plate of breaded coconut shrimp from the oven and left the room munching happily.

“Are we gonna blow up the place?” Apocalypto Pickle asked as he watch me running computations. “I can make a big explosion.”

“Yes, an explosion would be nice, but not suitable to our needs right now.”

“Well, what’s it going to be?” Iron Butterfly asked.

“Something so destructively evil that even I am surprised that I thought of it.”

“Really,” Gun Nut sniffed snidely. “Few things you do surprise me.”

“It is finished. Now, let us pay a visit to the government.”

We flew to Beijing and easily broke into the office of President Hu Jintao, defeating his guards easily. We were fortunate that Premier Wen Jiabao was there as well as it would make this easier.

“Gentlemen, it is good to meet with you today.”

“What are you doing here?” the president demanded. “Who are you people?”

“Let me introduce myself, I am Dr. Nemonok and I would like to show you the one thing that will bring this country to its knees. The one thing that will bring you to your knees.”

“You are a fool,” Premier Wen Jiabao said. “You may have defeated the troops here, but you have the entire nation’s military to contend with now.”

“Do I?”

I activated the controls and the construct hummed to life. Shortly thereafter, shapely Chinese women began to emerge from it.

“What is that?” Hu Jintao demanded.

“Your new Chinese cloning facility. I engineered the clones myself, normally I stay away from the filthy abominations but in this instance, I couldn’t resist.”

“Well, they certainly are good looking,” Wen Jiabao leered.

“Yes, they are. Their genetic makeup has also been altered a bit. I isolated some of the unique characteristics of tribbles. These clones are designed to do little more than to eat and reproduce.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping them with the reproducing,” chuckled the premier.

“Oh of course not, but they will only reproduce women.”

“Only women?” asked the president. “We cannot have women overrun our country. We are so overpopulated already.”

“Indeed. It would soon be very difficult to handle another 1.3 billion, wouldn’t it? Feeding, educating, housing, and everything else. You would soon be stepping over the bodies of your dead.”

“You’re a madman!” yelled the premier.

“A madman am I? No no, I am just the disembodied brain of the galaxy’s greatest psychiatrist contained within a nutrient rich jar. Oh, and if necessary, I could turn up the cloning production a bit.”

“No, please don’t,” said that president. “What do you want?”

“Simple. Kneel before Dr. Nemonok.”

“What?”

“Bow down to Dr. Nemonok.”

Begrudgingly, the two Chinese politicians dropped to their knees in front of me.

“Nice job, boss,” Iron Butterfly chuckled to me.

“Heh, I’ve done better.”

AOC: Rockin' China

2007-12-15T11:20:00.000-08:00

I gather my team to review our Doom Machine options. Gabby reports first.

“Me and the boys went and raided Professor Von Steampunk’s base after that Jar Brain had him killed. I like his dirigible with Amberaloic ray guns, so we stole them. Got a fleet of 20.” Gabby smiles at the group.

SWEET …. IF I WAS IN VICTORIAN ENGLAND

Samantha jumps up and shows what she developed.

GREAT GOBS OF COOKIE DOUGH, BATMAN

“Is that a cookie dough gun?” I ask

Samantha grins, “Yes, it is. We have made them big enough to be mounted on the Dirigibles. We can cover a large city with cookie dough in 20 minutes.”

“Not bad ideas. I think we will use both of them in conjunction with mine. I call it the Duel Death Star!!!!!” I say with my best booming voice.

DEATHSTACIES? BREAST STARS?

Samantha and gabby start coughing “coughFreudiancoughcompensatingcough mommyissuescough”

“Yeah it pretty stunning if I do say so my self” I beam back at them. “also we are going to tell how we took over china with a song. So get your bands together and let’s rock the mic!!!”

GABBY AND THE OLDE TYME STRUMMERS

SAMANTHA, LEADING THE GANGSTA GIRLZ

TAK: READY TO ROCK!!

99 million Red Commie Goons
(sung badly to the tune of 99 Red Balloons)

We attack the red menace with all we got
Our doom machine are looking hot
We’ll set them free at the break of dawn
The politburo will soon be gone
Back at their base, the commies scare
Flashing message, something’s out there
The reds know something awry
99 million Red goons going to die

99 million red goons looking up in the sky
Panic bells, Army on alert
There’s something here from somewhere else
Commie war machine springs to life
Opens their eager eye
Focusing on the scary clone guy
Where 99 million red goons are going to die

99 decisions street, 99 ministers meet
To worry, worry, super fast
Call your troops so we can blast
This is what Tak’s waited for
This is it Samantha, this is war
President Hu Jintao on the line
His calls for peace, we decline
As 99 million red goons die

All the commie’s planes hit the air
Gabby bring his guns to bear
All the reds start to fall far
And are blasted by my Double Deathstar
The commies get cut like Darth Maul
Oh crap we blew up the great wall!!

Shanghai, Beijing and Hong Kong
All are dust and all are gone
The city of Harbin is below
4 million kilos of Cookie dough
All the Chinese leaders are dead
Samantha takes over making the toys of lead
Gabby and his men don’t want a thrown,
The just head off to the red light zone
And for Tak, his souvenir is now he is the new premiere
And here is the last red goon
Hhe is crying over this lame ass tune

Tak’s team gets to parade down the street
Cuz out mission is complete

Nemonok: A meeting of the minds

2007-12-11T08:20:00.001-08:00

I had made it to the final two, and without winning any of these challenges, I might add. Interesting how the clone just got two wins in a row. If I were the paranoid type, I might accuse the judges of malfeasance, though I am sure that is not the case as it is apparent to me that they do not know the meaning of the word.

I am an evil mastermind, but I am also a gentleman (or a gentlebrain, as I have heard many times before), and as a gentleman, I will certainly congratulate Army of (Cl)one on his win and making the finals. As there is not better time than the present, I rolled my brain containment case right up next to him. He was busy working on some business or whatnot I do not know, it was of no concern of mine.

“Ahh!” he yelled. “Don’t sneak up on a guy like that! I coulda shot you.”

“Mr. Clone, congratulations on your second immunity and on making it to the finals.”

“Thanks,” he said warily. “Congratulations on making it to the final yourself.”

“Good luck on the final challenge as well.”

“Yeah,” he looked at me a little cockeyed. At least I am fairly sure that it was cockeyed, it’s hard to tell through that helmet. “Good luck to you, too.”

“Please, please, put yourself at ease. I am just here to congratulate you. We may be evil masterminds and in the middle of a fierce competition, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be gentlemen about it.”

“Yeah, or gentlebrain,” he replied.

“Yes, yes, I have heard that before. Anyway, very nice to see you.” Heh heh, I may be a mastermind, but this clone certainly has a long way to go before he could ever be anywhere near my league.

“Yes,” he replied. “Very nice to see you, too.”

“And I will be going.” I rolled my containment unit back slightly.

“And I will be going as well,” he replied and took a step back.

“Very well. Good day to you, sir.” I slid back another meter.

“And good day to you as well,” he replied as he took another step back.

“Unfortunately, I must get going. I have a doomsday device to make and all.” I slid back a bit more.

“As do I, as do I,” he replied and took another step back.

“So I will be off, then.”

“Me too.”

“Are you going to turn and walk away?”

“Maybe,” he replied suspiciously. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Then go ahead.”

“Very well, I shall.” I slid back a bit more.

“And so shall I,” he replied and took a step back.

“Ah, this is foolishness. Of course you are not going to shoot me in the back, I don’t have a back.”

“And you’re not going to shoot me in the back,” he answered. “You can’t carry a gun.”

“Of course.”

“Of course.”

“Well go ahead.”

“No, you go ahead.”

“Very well. Good day to you sir.” I quickly slid out of the room. The door glided closed behind me and I chuckled to myself maniacally. “Heh heh heh. He never suspected what I did to him.”

“Good day to you as well!” I heard him call out through the closed door. I thought that I heard him chuckle maniacally as well. It must have been the door sliding shut.

Le Finale - Thats The Final in french

2007-12-10T19:05:00.000-08:00

Personally I can't believe its come down to you two idiots. Thank God I'm not voting.

Nemonock - Who is voting?

Tak - Yeah!

Well I will be requesting a vote from all of the players who didn't make it to the final round to e-mail me at screamingmonnkey@yahoo.co.uk for who they thought won as well as the usual online poll. So its the public plus the past players that decide who wins the next challenge.

Nemonock - That sounds like trickery. The public loves the clone cause he's a simpleton and an ignoramus.

Tak - Yeah I'm famous.

Lets stop this right now and get on with it.

The final challenge is .................................
.........................................................................
.......................................................:).......................................
......................................;(....................................

Wait for it...........................................................

Build a Doomsday device and use it to take over China.

Same deadline as per usual (12am Sunday Morning New York time). You have to build the device, and use it to take over China. I don't care how you do it, just do it.

Remember those who were voted off and the public are going to decide the winner.

Who wants to be a super villain is proudly brought to you by Freaking Huge Clocks.
- If you want it big. Its got to be Freaking Huge! -

The verdict

2007-12-10T18:39:00.000-08:00

Henchy had his head in his hands.
"Awww Nuts!" He screamed. Actually he said something other than Nuts but this is a PG show and we can't have that kind of language here.
"50 bucks Henchy pay up." says Lin. Holding her hand out eagerly.
"Rassafrassa loosing to a rassafrassa synthoid." He stuffs his hand into his pocket and pulls out the required amount. Lin snatches it away and begins a rather vulgar display of bad winning.
"I got Henchy's money.I got Henchy's money.I got Henchy's money." she sings while skipping out of the room.

"I can't believe that Bennet er, Buttler lost." complains Henchy.

"Neither can I." I reply. "I thought Nemonock was going down. But all of the sudden there were all these votes. I've been able to trace them to a Washington account. Under the name of P.N.Guin."

"That's got to be a fake name." questions Henchy.

"No its real. It all checks out." I tell him.

Mr Buttler.

You are not a Super Villain

What Lin bought with her winnings -

She calls it her Henchy Bike

The semi final - The vote

2007-12-09T17:51:00.000-08:00

Ha!

I remember how this feels.

You've been coasting through the rounds and doing well then you reach the semi-final. And you don't get immunity.

Losers!

So now we have to decide between a brain in a jar and a guy with glasses.

Get to it!

Semi Final - I hate you all.

2007-12-09T16:08:00.000-08:00

"Lin your judging the semi-final." Koma tells me. "And this time I want you to be sober for it."
"Meh!" I reply.
"Lin promise me you'll be sober or I'll set your perkiness on cheerleader." he threatens. It wasn't an idle threat. Koma doesn't make threats that he wont carry out. And since I found out how to be cool and got me a cool posse I got a reputation to keep. I can't be all bubbly and perky again. I tell the "ex" I'll be sober. He's easily placated.

To prepare for the judging I go and play my favourite video game.

Gingerbread Woman.

Its so cool. You get to play as Ginger Bread woman and beat up all these guys. Its so good for getting out my frustration.

Well after all of that I decided to read these attempts at destroying christmas.

Nemonock - Brains of Endearment. The story of a homicidal Sinéad O'Connor freak and her unrequited love for a brain in jar. Also somewhere in there was a plan to have the USA wage war on Santa Claus and Christmas. Dick Cheney should be the Penguin in a Batman movie one day. Its prefect casting but I'm just waiting for Gun Nut to come to her senses and realise that your just another manipulative man. Its just that you lack the proper equipment to really satisfy a women.

Oh I meant a heart. You sick pervs thought I was meaning his penis. Weren't you?

Mr Buttler - Hmmm! I think many right wing Christians would be quite aghast at your tenure as Pope. Well they always said the Pope was the anti-christ, but I doubt your truly evil enough to go through with it. I mean there's still an X-mas. Ugh! Talk about cop out city. I was expecting this to go somewhere. Then again what do you expect from a character that exists in a show where something might happen once every fifth episode. Careful there Mr Buttler you almost had something happen.

Tak - Everyones favourite Imperial Storm-trooper. Your hench-people have way too much control in your organistation so I'd be watching your back. Despite this you managed to get Santa killed and an LA gang blamed for his death.

So I give the final immunity to Tak.

Ha! Eat that.

I'm going back to playing Ginger bread Woman.

AOC: Koma Christmas Deathwish

2007-12-08T18:41:00.000-08:00

“So who is this Santa guy that Koma wants killed?” I ask my Hench squad.

Both look at me a little surprised.

“Hello, from a different Galaxy! Don’t know all the local dignitaries. Jeez peole throw me a Frinckin’ bone or something.” I glare

Gabby starts in “Well boss, Sandy Clause is the guy who bring all the presents at Christmas time. He dresses in red, sneaks down the chimney and leaves Christmas gifts.”

“Does everyone get gifts?” I ask

“Oh no," Chimes in Samantha. “only the people on the nice list. If you are on the naughty list then you get a lump of coal or some lame thing. The good thing is if you are nice you can write Santa a letter and ask for a specific gift.”

That must be why Koma hates him. I can’t see Koma being on the Nice list.

“And he does this on “Christmas”? What is Christmas?” I inquire some more.

“It the holiday that about 1/6th of the planet celebrates to honor the birth of their God. Well his son, but it is him also. It all get a little confusing, so most of us don’t think about it too much.” Gabby tells me.

“Well that is weird. What does that guy in the red suit have to do with all of that?” I ask

“Don’t start asking that,” Samantha tells me,” you’ll just upset Bill O’Riley and Rush Limbaugh and get them all riled up about the war on Christmas.”

“Cool. You guys have a war on Christmas. That is a really weird way to celebrate the birth of a God, but hey who am I to knock other cultures.” I smile at the two of them.

The both have that look on their face again.

“Well, back to the task at hand. Let me see if I have the basic facts. 1) Santa wears red 2) Santa goes to house on his “nice” list 3) he deliver presents that you asked for. Do I have all that right?” I ask my Hench squad.

They both nod yes.

“Ok then, Gabby I need you to find the an address for this organization.” I had him a piece of paper. “And Samantha I need you to see if you can Slice into …. I mean hack into Santa’s Nice list and put this name and the address Gabby gives you. Also the present you should put down for this person is an Uzi.”

They both look a little stunned, but jump in to action.

On Christmas morning I wake up my Hench Squad and flip on the news.

Today we have a tragic story to report. In South Central Los Angles last night a man dressed as Santa broke into the headquarters of the CRISP gang, carrying a Uzi. Apparently the 35 member of the CRISP gang though he was a member of the Aryan Nation trying to disguise himself as a member of the North side Bloods. He was shot 183 time.

SANTA’S GOT A GUN, THE DOG DAY JUST BEGUN

In other news Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator surged ahead in the Iowa…..

I turn the TV off, hand Gabby and Samantha Christmas presents and head to the kitchen for some hot coco.

KOMA THE DAY AFTER.

Mission Six: X-Mas

2007-12-08T08:58:00.001-08:00

The challenge was on to destroy Christmas. I began to doubt my own commitment to being a super villain. Sure, I shot the Pope and even kidnapped Jane Fonda forcing her to treadmill for eternity. But now we're talking about going up against Santa. Even super villains should have the decency not to mess with the Fat Man.

I decided the easiest way to destroy Christmas would be to attack its source: Jerry Christ.

"Jesus Christ," The Haitian corrected.

"Right. Jesus Christ. To the Vatican!"

I put on my big hat and gathered the cardinals together.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I began.

"There are no ladies here," Cardinal Jim spoke out.

"Oh, good," I replied and let out my gut. It really strains the intestines sucking it all in. "I've called you here today for an emergency meeting about Christmas. We have to destroy it, and only we have that power."

The Cardinals applauded. "For years," Cardinal Jim said, "we have been forced to compete with St. Nicholas. We even tried revoking his sainthood. Christmas should be our holiday, it's about Christ, our lord, and it's about time we take it back!"

"Exactly. It is is about Christ, your lord. But taking it back won't work. We have to get rid of it completely. So, we need to rid this Jesus guy from Christianity."

"But," said Cardinal Cassius, "he is the secret ingredient in our Eucharist bread!"

"And the foundation of Christianity," Cardinal Jim added.

"Then we'll need to find a new secret ingredient."

I called up my good friend and mortal enemy, Professor X.

"Hey, Charles. Find some reindeer and attach to your wheelchair. Have the mutants make a lot of toys and deliver them to the nice children on December 25th."

"Who is this?" he replied.

I knew it was sarcasm. His telepathic abilities should have identified me, even over an iPhone. "I know you know it's me!" I replied.

"But do you know that I know you know I know it's you?"

He was clearly drunk. "Can you help me or not?"

"I'm leaning toward not," he replied.

Could a man in a wheelchair lean?

He continued, "After the ketchup incident, why should I?"

"Because Christians deny evolution, and now is your chance to show them the truth!"

"Their ignorance does not affect me. I have my own school for the gifted where I teach evolution first hand."

"Well," I thought hard. "What about all the good kids that are going to miss out on Santa this year?"

"Miss out? Why?"

"The President bombed the North Pole. Santa's awaiting trial and will likely be hanged."

This seemed to strike a nerve with the pedophile...uh, I mean paraplegic. He paused, obviously thinking about the little ones.

"Yes, I am thinking about the little ones," he said. "I'd hate to see them go without their toys. I'll do it."

The X-Men all started working hard on restoring what the Bush Administration destroyed. Hopefully they can do a better job than the Democrats.

"Sir," The Haitian said to me, "how exactly is this evil? And for that matter, doesn't it do the opposite of what the challenge called for?"

He was right of course, but I couldn't show incompetence in front of my minions. That was Wonka's mistake, and now he's wearing concrete shoes at the bottom of the chocolate river. I quickly thought up a new and devious plan. "I have a new and devious plan," I replied to the man from Haiti. "Let the X-Men restore Christmas. We'll switch the nice and naughty list. The good kids will get nothing but coal, except for the good, poor, cold kids. Coal would be a good thing for them. We'll give them ice instead. And the naughty, well they'll get all the greatest gadgets our corporate world has to offer!"

With a sinister smile, and using anti-telepathic techniques the company taught me, I handed Professor X the revised lists. He flew off the roof to unknowingly do my bidding.

Goodbye Christmas, Hello X-Mas.

Nemonok: Silent Night, Holy Terror

2007-12-05T11:46:00.000-08:00

“Oh, Nemmy, wasn’t the party on the Enterprise wonderful?” Gun Nut interrupted my brooding as she threw her arms around my brain containment jar.

An evil mastermind such as me needs his brooding time. I find this new challenge is, for lack of a better term, challenging. Should I shoot Santa’s sled from the skies? Should I travel back in time to prevent the birth of this planet’s savior? Should I fly into the city and steal all the presents? All this seems too easy. I need something special. Something that will really put this planet on its proverbial ear.

“Not now, Gun Nut. Can’t you see that this is my brooding time? I have a challenge to prepare for.”

“But it’s Christmas,” she continued. “It’s the most magical time of the year! I even got you something. Here.”

I looked at the elaborately decorated box, then looked at my female companion, then looked at the box again.

“How am I supposed to open that?”

“Fine, I’ll open it for you,” she said still smiling. She tore the wrappings off and held up some sort of a control box in front of me. “It’s a Nintendo Wii! I stole it for you myself. These things are so much fun.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is, but how am I to play it? I cannot hold the controller.”

Gun Nut’s smile dropped and she looked at me. “Well it’s the thought, you know. For Christmas, it’s not just about what you get, it’s about what the giver gives you. One year, my dad gave me a pound of pork chops. They were delicious, even though that didn’t stop me from shooting him a few years later, I guess. It’s the thought.”

“Very well, thank you for your thoughtful gift. Now please give me a moment to ponder this challenge.”

“Ugh!” My maniacal, gun toting assassin threw the box down in an uncharacteristic fit of rage. “Do you even like me anymore? Sometimes I think all that you care about is your stupid plans. You’ve never even met my parents.”

“Of course I like you. When in your presence, my brain containment fluid temperature rises 6 to 9 degrees and the electrical activity of my brain itself increases 11 percent. Clearly that shows how I feel for you. Additionally, I cannot meet your parents; you killed them both years ago.”

“My mom’s still alive,” she sobbed and stomped out of my office, shoving past Apocalypto Pickle along the way.

“Hey boss, what’s with her?” he asked.

“Bah, women, you can’t live with them and you can’t remove their brains and force them to live disembodied in a jar of nutrients.”

“I know what you mean, boss,” he nodded and grinned. “I’ve pretty much given up on women myself.”

“Indeed.”

Pickle stepped out the door, but his image was replaced by a ghostly image of someone from long ago in my past. Someone who I thought that I would never see again as he appeared to be my former college professor and mentor. But he was long dead, wasn’t he?
“Dr. Nemonok, I would have a word with you,” the image spoke to me.

“Professor Kingsford J. Cerebelok, is that really you?”

“Indeed it is,” it replied. “Though I have gone on to the next level of existence, I have returned but this one time to see you.”

“What do you want of me?”

“Much,” it replied.

“Very well, be on with it then. I haven’t got all day.”

“Nemonok, I must warn you. I am forever cursed to wander the galaxy as penitence for what I have done. Do not follow my footsteps, be a better man. Er, disembodied brain in a jar. You do not have to be evil.”

“Is this all you have come to tell me? I will hear no more of it, I have work to do. Evil work.”

“Doctor, I must warn you, you can still escape this fate by the visitation from the spirits three,” Cerebelok continued. “They will see you here, tonight!”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall be going. I have important matters to attend to.”

I quickly gathered my four henches (Gun Nut begrudgingly came along, though she gave me the “silent treatment” for the entirety of the trip) and we flew to Washington DC in my Shadow Stealthship. Once at the capitol of the most powerful nation on this planet, my crew and I disembarked to speak with the evil Dick Cheney.

“You want to what?” he seemed shocked. “Wah wah.”

“I want to destroy Christmas. Please just send your troops and weapons to the North Pole and destroy it.”

“You can’t do that,” he spat. “It’s evil.”

“Yes, I know that. I’m evil, you’re evil. We’re all evil, so let’s just go destroy Christmas.”

“But Christmas is the one time of year where even evil gets a holiday,” he answered. “You can’t be evil on Christmas. You just can’t.”

“What’s goin’ on in here?” President George Bush walked in on our meeting. He took one look at me and my henches and did a double take. “Now, I’ve seen some weird ones in Austin, buncha dirty dang hippies, but this is the weirdest sight I ever did laid eyes on. Hey Laura, get a load a the brain ina jar!”

“I have no time for this. Bob, fire the Hypnoray.”

“With pleasure, boss.”

With these mindless fools under my control, I quickly sent them to the television broadcast room to send a very important message to the people of this nation.
“My fellow ‘Mericans,” Bush spoke somberly. “We have a saying in ‘Merica, I know we say it in Texshush, I think you all say it in ‘Merica: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, uh, I won’t get fooled again.

“My job is a decision-making job, and as a result, I make a lot of decisions, and for too long, the freedom lovin’ people of this nation and of this world have been living in fearful rule of one man. All of us in America want there to be fairness when it comes to justice, and this one man has been living beyond fairnessness and justice for too long.

“These are big achievements for this country, and the people of ‘Merica ought to be proud of the achievements that they have achieved, but in achieving those achievements there is an achievement that we have yet to obtain. Santa Claus has been conducting a one man campaign against the morals and decency of God-fearing ‘Mericans for too long.

“My fellow ‘Mericans, I'm pleased to tell you today that I've signed legislation that will outlaw Santa Claus forever. We begin bombing in five minutes. For all who love freedom and peace, the world without Santa Clauses’s regime is a better and safer place. Thank you and good night.”

And with the order from my brain dead puppet, the American Military forces deployed a carrier group to the North Pole. Jet craft carpet bombed Christmas Village and ground forces rushed in to capture Saint Nick, who was quickly found hiding in a spider hole. President Bush quickly flew to the aircraft carrier and delivered a “Mission accomplished speech” to raise morale of the troops.

“We have brought in a special CIA operator and master interrogator the Warrior, Dr. Nemonok,” Dick Cheney told me as I surveyed the sight from the comforts of the White House strategy center. “We’ll have that fat goose singing like a canary in no time, wah wah.”

“Splendid. A merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night, indeed.”

Challenge 6

2007-12-03T21:18:00.000-08:00

Challenge Number 6

Ok now there's only 3 of you left.

Tak - Hey what happened to Gyrobo you said you were going to throw him off the top of those towers?

Nemonock - Yes I wish to know what happened there as well.

Buttler - Who cares. Its no longer relevant to the show.

The bespeckled one is right it doesn't matter what happened to Gyrobo.

Tak - Awww!

Ok you next and second last challenge is to.

Destroy Christmas!

I personally hate this annual travesty of greed and kindness and happiness to all. In fact of all days this as a super villain should be the worst day of the year. Good tidings and joy to all th world are not what we want. We want to bring fear and hatred and chaos to the world.
Work out the best way to ruin this most horrid of days.

Let the chaos commence!

Challenge 5 - The verdict

2007-12-03T21:08:00.001-08:00

Well it is with a tear in my eye that I say this.

This one I thought truly had the ability to go all the way. He was crazy, unhinged, some might even call him schizophrenic. I call him a friend and a mentor in the ways of villainy.

-sniff!-

Gyrobo

-choke!-

You are not a super villain!

Its just so sad.
It shouldn't have happened.
Travesty.
You uncouth slack jawed yokels.
You don't see genius when it sits on your face and makes a paper crane out of your own dired snot.
Your not worth this treasure.

THE VOTE - Challenge Number 5

2007-12-02T19:43:00.000-08:00

Ok Mr Buttler got immunity.

Good for him.

Also well judged Onieda you did great.

Everyone give her a round of applause.

Just for you we've gotten these little children to send you off with flowers and a farewell song.

What your not Syrian? Whoops!

Ok now on to the voting. There are only three of you to choose from since Mr Buttler has immunity. Ha! fight among yourselves to see who stays and who we let go from 30,000 feet atop the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpar, Malaysia.

I love asian nations they let you do anything for the right amount.

Oh well here's your voting card. Get cracking.

Judging

2007-12-02T15:50:00.000-08:00

Well that was certainly enlightening. I was thinking I’d see more of a Mechastreisand type of evil robot, but I’m willing that evil comes in many sizes.

Tak: I liked your plan, but I think it falls into the devious category more than the evil category. I think your Girl Scout is too much Donld Trump and not enough Kim Jong-Il. To add a bit more evil, perhaps think about adding some toddler stomping and lost pants into the coffee/dry cleaning idea.

Dr. Nemonok: Your robot had potential. But providing young boys through-out the country with jeans that are hard to take off, you only protected them from the creepy older men by providing more coverage. That’s a good thing, not an evil thing.

Gyrobo: I’m glad you’ll have a nice big robot, but his components make him sound somewhat flammable. A successful evil robot can’t have obvious flaws that are easy to exploit, and your evil machination is one flaming arrow away from disaster. Might I recommend a flame retardant for future models?

Mr. Bennet, excuse me, Mr. Butler: Using the power of God to run your monster is a great idea. The only possible downside could be if the world turned atheist and God ceased to exist. But I digress into silly philosophical issues.

I know that everyone was worried that I’d be biased and have my favorites *pats Tak fondly on the cheek* I didn’t let that affect my decision.

The winner of the ‘build a robot of doom’ segment of the contest is

Mr. Benn…ulter, Mr. Butlet, lets try that again…

Mr. Butler is the winner with his Capt. Planet stomping Jane Fonda powered robot.

Mission Five: Doombot

2007-12-02T11:59:00.000-08:00

Finally, I'm presented with a challenge that may prove difficult. All the past ones dealt with one of my many areas of expertise. But this challenge is new grounds. I've never once built a Robot of Doom.

Mr. Bennet...uh, I mean, Mr. Butler....is up for any challenge this competition can throw at me. I'm driven by the desire to protect my family, and this game's perhaps non-existent prize could do just that.

"Let's win this one!" I shouted.

The girls broke out into cheers to lift our spirits. Once said spirits reached an appropriate altitude, I questioned The Haitian about a plan.

"Robots of Doom need massive firepower," he suggested.

Kandi added, "Like a big flame thrower and stuff!"

I was becoming concerned. This was already turning into an ambitious project.

"And a power source," The Haitian said.

"My god! You're a genius."

The power source would be the key to this challenge. While the other contestants slave away giving their robots an over-the-top arsenal, quirky personalities and benign pop culture references, I would create the most powerful Doombot of all!

I sensed an opportunity for a maniacal evil genius laugh and took it.

"That was a good laugh," The Haitian complimented.

"Really? You think so?" I asked.

"Indeed. Very evil; maniacal even."

I didn't want to overdo the moment (let's leave that to Nemonok), so the team and I set off in search of the ultimate power source.

"What's the most powerful thing on Earth?" I inquired rhetorically.

"Ummm....the orange dust from Cheetos?" Kandi asked.

"A thousand hamsters running in wheels?" The Haitian offered.

"No," I said. "God."

"Oh, like, duh!" said Kandi. "I totally learned that at Bible Camp."

I decided to use my recently acquired organization to help me harness the power of God. Consulting the Vatican's library, I found all the information on the Holy Grail.

"Oooh, cool. A cup!" Christina said enthusiastically.

"Better than a cup," I replied, "a woman!"

"In Haiti, women have no power," The Haitian droned.

According to the Vatican's secret files, Opus Dei had discovered that the Holy Grail is protected, guarded by the last remaining Knight Templar. It is said that he was given amazing powers by the Grail and uses them to defend her and the environment.

Opus Dei agents, Duke Nukem and Looten Plunder, were each defeated by the green-haired guardian. But I had already defeated him myself. At this very moment he was being crushed by my garbage compactor.

"Um, boss?" Kandi said, "Mr. Planet, like, blasted through the wall."

"Blast that Captain Planet!"

Fortunately, before bagging him, I made sure to tag him. He'll lead us straight to the Holy Grail, and we'll know where to send the bill for repairing the hole in my lair.

The Haitian and I tracked his movements while the girls began putting together the Robot of Doom. He stopped off first at Starbucks, probably to fraternize with that pseudo-intellectual elitist stormtrooper. After that, he flew to the Democratic Debate. Could Hillary Clinton be the Holy Grail?

"More like the Anti-Christ!" I laughed.

"Huh?" asked The Haitian.

"Nevermind." I glanced at the tracking monitor. The blip had come to a rest. "There!" I pointed.

The Haitian did a quick Google search and said, "Jane Fonda's house."

"of course! She and her diabolical husband created Captain Planet. She's the Holy Grail!"

"To the Batcave!" The Haitian shouted.

A spinning logo and moments later we were at Fonda's Fortress^TM. With a series of kick-flips, the cheerleaders neutralized the guard dogs. The Haitian picked the lock, and we were inside.

"Oh, my!" Fonda cried. "Get out of my house, now!"

"I don't think so," I replied. "Have a seat."

"Planeteers! Help!" she called out in vain.

"Sorry, Ms. Fonda, but they're fish food now, eco-friendly fish food."

"Who are you?" she asked terrified.

"I'm the man in horn-rimmed glasses. You can call me Noah."

The Haitian used his crazy mental powers to knock her out cold. The logo spun again and we were back at the lair.

"Wake up, Ms. Fonda," I said as I waved a jar of ammonia under her nose. "There's a big day ahead of you."

"Wh...where am I?" she asked.

"You're inside my Robot of Doom." I replied. "All you have to do is run on that treadmill and you'll generate the energy I need. Energy from the Holy Grail herself! My Robot of Doom will be unstoppable!"

"You're mad!"

"I know. Now get to running, babe."

"Never!" she protested.

"If you don't run," I threatened, "I'll have my friend here put you in that blender. We'll grind you into a burnable oil. You know how much using you as that kind of energy source will pollute the Earth?"

"Alright! I'll run! Just promise you'll keep carbon emissions low."

She began running and the robot roared to life. The Haitian and I exited the robot to watch its first mission. Captain Planet arrived, right on schedule.

"Robot of Doom," I commanded, "Kill Captain Planet!"

And kill it did.

Angus McGriddle, Doctor of Robots!

2007-12-01T20:00:00.000-08:00

Stained clock faces with bent hands hung on the to-do wall. There were black cast-iron barrels full of 5-cent odds and ends, though at least one must have served as a wastebasket. The only source of light were bright LED bulbs that hung from elegantly retrofitted Victorian chandeliers and wall scones. Dusty posters of obscure and just plain awful films suffocated the varnished mahogany.

A lab coat was carefully folded over the back of an efficient Scandinavian chair by the door. This must belong to the good doctor, I thought. Hanging over a broken-in workbench under a blackened window was a corroded fume hood; thick ionic smoke wafted up into it. Pausing hesitantly to wipe his bald head, Doctor Angus McGriddle of the San Serriffe Font Foundry labored away on his latest calligraphic robo-strosity.

“They say you make a pretty mean killer robot.”

McGriddle flinched, then grabbed his hand. Thankfully the thick work glove absorbed most of the diamond cutter’s brunt. “How did you get in here?”

“I checked myself in,” I grinned, showing him the library card I’d won off Hermann Zapf. “Now, shall we rock or shall we roll?”

He flipped the diamond cutter to off mode nonchalantly. Bushy eyebrows connected thoughtfully over his protective goggles, and I briefly wondered whether he had laser vision.

“Look kid, I don’t know what that loon told you. Angus McGriddle doesn’t do pro bono.”

“Naturally we’d be willing to compensate you for you trouble,” I purred, opening a crate of plastic eggs behind me. “This is just the down payment. You’ll get the rest later.”

“No deal. We moved off the plastic egg standard when General Pica was hung by his pinkies from the palace walls.”

“Then what? Liposuction?”

“No! This is all muscle!” he resolutely resisted, manhandling his love handles. “I want revenge against McDonald’s. After their McGriddle breakfast sandwiches came out, I had to stop selling the McGriddle 2000™—something I’d spent the better part of the last decade developing.”

“What was the McGriddle 2000™?”

“Highly concentrated pancake-sized chlorine tablets. A single puck could kill an African elephant. The lawsuit would’ve forced me to make them unscented, take the word ‘flavor’ off the packaging, and stop advertising using cartoon characters. I refused.”

“I remember those! They were delicious!”

Jalas’ leafy voice tore through the laboratory. “Exactly. So they did the only thing they could: embrace, extend, extinguish.” She swung down from the chandelier, bouncing off the chemical hood and landing gracefully on a small stack of MAD magazines.

“Have you spies everywhere?” McGriddle croaked.

“Jalas, I’m videoconferencing in person. What gives, yo?”

“Navens are raiding the Foundry.”

Even though I couldn’t remember ordering my henchmen to raid the facility, I couldn’t rule out the possibility that some higher power had acted on my behalf.

“Do they claim to have received a divine missive?”

“They claim they haven’t eaten since our airship took on several thousand refugees—I mean, displaced persons—so I sent them on a... fact-finding mission. They got past the Foundry’s high-tech security system in under ten minutes.”

“Implausible! I designed that security system—with my bare hands,” Angus anguished. “What about the sonic turrets outside the cafeteria?”

Jalas donned her most sympathetic game face. “I’m afraid the Chef’s Special today is Lasagna with a side of shrapnel.”

“Sweet Electron of the Rubicon! Why? Why?!” he asked feebly, teetering backwards over the workbench. “That lasagna could have been yours.”

“We’re merely taking what we need to survive; you should appreciate that, having been cast to the sidewalk yourself. Join us,” I offered. My hand hyperextended in a magnanimous display of contortionism. “Let’s build that robotic hover-bridge to the 21^st century.”

“It already is the 21^st century,” the decorated doctor demonstrated, diligently drilling his diabolical day-planner.

“Then we’re almost eight years behind schedule. Look, you want to sell chlorine tablets outside restaurants? I can make it happen. You want to poison African elephants? I can do that, too.”

“African elephants were only a metric, I have nothing against the gentle giants.”

My second-in-command unsheathed a broadsword with the head of a chameleon for a hilt. “I’m going to go stop all the looting and violence now.”

“Bring me back a liver,” I urged laboriously. “Now, Angus-”

“Doctor McGriddle, please.”

A silence overtook the room following Jalas’ departure. I felt I could finally strike a deal with the amorphous substrate.

“Caramel apple?” I held out a tray.

“I’m going to want more than that. Like I said, Angus McGriddle don’t work for free. You want Angus McGriddle? You want a giant robot?” He threw down his gloves. There were four gnarled fingers on one hand, and six on the other. “It’s going to cost you.”

“No problem! We recently robbed a bank, and have about ten times that much!”

“I never... mentioned a number...”

“Fine. You can have the crate,” I conceded, passing him the large box of plastic eggs. They were clearly well aged, and some Serriffian collectors would surly still find them valuable.

My eyes wondered around the old scientist’s room. There was a rack up against one wall, several shelves, full of action figures and masks. Photos of celebrities shaking hands with various people, and several of Ronald Reagan with the eyes cut out. There was no carpeting (this was a workroom, after all) and a double helix scar etched deep into the concrete. What from, I could only speculate.

“You enjoy working here, don’t you, Angus?”

“It keeps me busy.”

“Would you like to work on some of the bigger budget stuff?”

“I’m already the lead roboticist...”

“Work for me and I’ll make you the lead roboticist of the entire Earth,” my cape flapped behind me. “Or turn from me, and I’ll feed you to my pet hydra.”

“With friends like you, who needs anemones?”

“That’s a good one, doc,” I affirmed as he packed a ratty old suitcase. “Keep up the puns... you stuffed pig.”

“What?”

“I said ‘puffed jig!’ We’re gonna do a puffed jig when we get back to Skylair One!”

***

“That’s a pretty swanky killer robot.”

“It’s mostly cardboard and newspapers.”

Angus was competitively humble. In truth, the automaton was so huge that he could only work on the head onboard. The rest of the body would have to be completed at the Foundry by unskilled laborers.

“Is it going to cost a lot to get the body completed? We’ve got a lot of people working overtime.”

“Don’t worry, lad. There’re no labor laws on San Serriffe. About two years ago, the leader of the Labor Party, Antonio Bourgeois, was asked by a rookie journalist during a routine interview if he was in Labor. When Bourgeois said ‘yes,’ the reporter asked how far apart the contractions were. That was the day the labor movement died.”

“Aren’t most of San Serriffe’s workers pregnant women?”

“Politics be a strange art,” McGriddle gritted, squeezing the blowtorch handle. “Finito!”

“It’s done?”

“The head part of it, anyway. It still needs the body for power and awesomeness.”

Featureless and rational in every respect, the face basked in our pride. Its eyeballs were cannons, the nose shot heat-seeking missiles, and the mouth could projectile vomit burning oil. Surely, this was the pinnacle of form, the apex of function, the convergence of everything simple and beautiful and evil and good.

“Put some flaws in so people will have a reason to buy a new one in five years.”

Nemonok: Super Happy Destructive Robot Time Go

2007-11-30T19:50:00.000-08:00

“Gather around, my minions; it is time to prepare for the next challenge.”

Heh heh, having minions is nice. I can see why my dark lord Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord has so many.

“What are we doing this time, boss?” Apocalypto Pickle asked.

“We must build a giant robot of doom. And as an additional proverbial wrench in the cog, a Lieutenant Commander Oneida will be judging. Therefore, I would like all of you to say something nice about our guest judge in order to get into her good graces.”

“You want to get on her good side?” asked Bob the Goon. “We could bribe her maybe.”

“Or maybe we could kidnap her and release her only when she agrees that we won the challenge!” Iron Butterfly suggested.

“Idiot,” Gun Nut spat. “How is she going to rule in our favor when she’s kidnapped?”

“I dunno,” Butterfly shrugged.

“Enough, my henches. Let me give you a little class in psychology 101. All humans like to be complimented. It’s that simple. It puts them at ease and it allows them the opportunity to feel appreciated. The fact that we are quite and unusual group—”

“What?” interupted Gun Nut.

“No!” injected Butterfly.

“No no, it’s true. I am sure we are somewhat atypical to what she considers normal or standard. Anyway, remember that she is clearly too intelligent and sophisticated to fall for an insincere compliment, so everyone please compliment our judge and keep it real, as they say.”

“Uh, OK,” Bob the Goon thought for a moment. “She’s real pretty, I’d like to take her out to dinner. Maybe we could get some shrimp. See? I keep sayin’ shrimp. That’s no coincidence.”

“Uh yeah, pretty,” Apocalypto Pickle added. “Real stylish, too. Her clothes are uh uh uh.”

He made a snapping motion in a Z pattern for emphasis.

“Yeah, I like her hair,” Gun Nut said. “I’d like to know who does it.”

“Yeah her hair,” Butterfly offered. “I sure would like to smell her pretty hair.”

“OK, that was borderline creepy but I think it will get the job done. Now, we must get going on our journey and we must hurry as it is apparent that that strung out female robot judge does not have the attention span of a Gernelian gnat.”

“Yeah? So where are we going?” asked Butterfly.

“We are going to the one place where giant robots of doom are as common as an Orwelian street rat on an Orwelian street. And that is the island of Japan.”

My crew of henches and I quickly flew to Japan in my Shadow Stealthship where I quickly used the technology and radioactive materials readily available there to construct the grandest of giant evil robots ever designed.
“It’s amazing,” Gun Nut said in awe.

“It’s incredible,” Iron Butterfly added as he stared up at the giant automaton.”

“That crotch, it’s so huge,” Pickle added. “Er, I mean, the whole thing is huge. It’s a giant robot and all.”

“Now to enact the second part of my plan! Giant Evil Robot, smash the building!”

The monster obeyed my command and crashed through one of the buildings of downtown Tokyo.

“That’s it?” Gun Nut asked. “It’s just going to smash the city up? That seems rather pedestrian.”

“Of course wanton destruction is rather blasé, but that’s just the beginning. There should be a good robot or monster flying in shortly to defend the city.”

“There it is.” Gun Nut pointed to the skies. “A big blue one.”

The robotic titan landed in front of my robot. They went through a series of elaborate moves, chopping the air and stomping the ground before they began fighting each other.

“OK, they’re fighting,” Butterfly said. “I mean, they’re huge. It’s an awesome battle and all, but now what?”
“Everyone, keep your eyes open.”

“For what?” asked Bob the Goon. “What’re we lookin’ for?”

“Over there. That boy with the remote and the short pants.”

“The kid next to the creepy old man? What about him?” asked Pickle. “You want me to go get ‘um?”

“No. Just watch.”

With another electronic command sent to my robot, the door in its stomach slid open and the contents contained within spilled out.

“What’re those?” Bob squinted up at the robot.

“They look like—” Gun Nut’s voice trailed off.

“Jeans?” Butterfly rubbed his eyes and looked again. “Yeah, they’re blue jeans.”
“Are they poisoned?” asked Pickle.

“Mind control jeans?” asked Gun Nut.

“No, just jeans. All of the monsters and giant robots of this island nation seem to have child companions who always run around in those shorts. I find the fashion rather disconcerting, but then again, I have little need for pants myself.”

“So you’re just going to give them jeans?” Gun Nut asked.

“That doesn’t seem all that evil,” added Pickle.

“Of course I am just giving them jeans. This child will take a pair, then the next, then the next. Soon every child in this nation will be wearing these blue jeans. These western blue jeans.”

“Yeah? So,” shrugged Butterfly.

“These pants will bring this nation to its knees. The elders won’t understand the fashion and it will spin from there. Jeans beget teens wearing yellow wigs and orange makeup, that will beget youth dressing up like their favorite cartoon characters. Tentacle fetishes, bad karaoke, and fuzzy pink Hello Kitty backpacks will all come from this. This once proud culture of ronin, princesses, and dragons will crawl to a halt under the weight of its own junk. Fifty years from now, this will be an island wasteland.”

“I, I guess that’s a good plan…” Bob stammered.

“Yeah, but we don’t have 50 years to watch it play out, man,” Pickle complained.

“Yeah, what are we s’pposed to do ‘til then?” Bob asked.

“Heh. You people have no style.”

AOC: Robots & Coffee & Lt. Cmdr ... Oh My

2007-11-30T12:24:00.000-08:00

“Tak …. Tak are you in here?” the Lt. Cmdr voice drifted into my office.

I jumped to attention and let her know where I was. She walked in to the room looking stunning in a casual outfit.

SHE IS SO CUTE …. I MEAN COMMANDING

“Tak, I just wanted to say hi. I haven’t seen you in a bit. I this is soooo cool I get to be a judge. I like judging you!” she purred

I pull off my helmet and smile debonairly at her.

“Tak”

“Yes”

“Tak”

“Yes, Lt Cmdr?”

“Tak, can I come closer and tell you something”

“Yes” I say breathlessly. I feel like I am shaking.

“TAK!!!!!!! Wake up!! And why in tarnation do you keep saying yes? And did you know you are drooling all over the evil robot plans?” Gabby says shaking me.

I look over the robot plans that have been submitted by the top R&D people at Starbucks. They enter the room to await my questions.

The first robot doesn’t look like much.

STARBUCKER T-800

“So what is so evil about this robot?” I ask

Faceless Starbuck R&D guy # 1 starts talking. “This is the auto barista T-800. We could put it in all the Starbuck and we would never need human barista again!” he attempts an evil cackle, but ends up coughing.

“While the thought of out of work barista spending their day in search of other meaningless work is appealing to me, it is not very evil in the long run.” I tell him. Dejected he leaves the office.

R&D guy # 2 steps up and unveils his evil robot.

IF THIS THING SAY DEEBEE DEEBEE DEE. SOMEONE IS GETTING KILLED.

R&D guy # 2 jumps right in, “As you can see this is an improvement on the T-800. It will displace barista and it can sing a happy sappy song that customer will not be able to get out of their heads. The only thing that can stop the pain of the song is more Tak’s Coffee. The song choice is between My Hump or You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings.”

I nod to Gabby, who cold-cock R&D guy #2 and drags him off to a cell. That kind of evil cannot be released on this planet.

Samantha walks in. “Boss, I have been working on the robots, using the starting point of the Starbuck R&D guys. I think I have come up with a evil robot that can also make us money.”

“You have robot making skills?” I scoff lightly

“Yes, I do. Using the knowledge I have gained through my merit badges on Atomic Energy, Electronic, and entrepreneurship I think I have a great plan.” She scoffs right back at me.

I GUESS SHE DOES HAVE THE SKILLS.

Samantha’s Robot comes into the room.

LOOKS LIKE AN EVIL ROBOT.

“So the plan is basic. We use Robot Terror at the coffees shops. Customers will be intrigued by the newness of the Robots and would come anyway due to being addictied to Tak’s Coffee. On every third or fourth customer the robots will “accidentally” spill coffee on them. We will claim it is a software flaw caused by Microsoft and are working on the problem.”

“I speak up. “Samantha, while I like the idea of spilling hot coffee on Yuppies and Soccer Moms, does it measure up to being evil?”

“But that is where we end up making money, because where ever we have a Starbucks, we will be opening one of these. I have already leased over 300 spaces.” She say as she drops a picture on my desk.

Brilliantly Evil. I love this stuff. I give Samantha and Gabby the go sign.

Koma forgot something

2007-11-29T14:47:00.000-08:00

I was out partying with my main girls, Dixie and DJ Cathrine Wheelz. It was a great party and everyone was getting up and catching onto the toonz we were spining (I'm really getting into the DJ lingo).

Then DJ Cathrine played a piece she called "Late Deadline." It features a sample of Magneto singing Three Little Maids from School. Wheelz recorded it when Koma gave him to us cause he forgot to post in the first round.

I remembered that Koma forgot something about this round.

He forgot to tell everyone when the deadline for posting in this round was.

I rushed out of the nightclub and took the first car I saw.
I had to tell Koma as soon as possible. If the players didn't know when they had to post. It could be horrible. Without a deadline Nemonock would never finish, it would just be - to be continued at the end of every post. I was thinking about the horror of Nemonock's never ending story so much that I had a little accident.
It wasn't bad just that it got on the news and everyone thought I was Lindsay. Its a common mistake for people to make.
"The easy way to work out whether I'm Lindsay is to ask the following question." I tell the Sargent who was first on the scene.
"And just whats that question?" he asks in a gruff tone.
"Can Lindsay Lohan teleport out of here?" I tell him.
"Now what kind of stupid question is that Miss Lohan." snaps the Sargent. "You celebrities think you can get away with anything."
"Goodbye officer I'm not Lindsay." I tell him.
"Ugh! Goodbye. Girl, the only place your going is downtown." he responds.
I give him a little wave and -!voip! - I'm gone.

"Damn!" replies the Sargent.

I tell Koma that he forgot the deadline.

He panics, then Henchy calms him down and tells him that all he has to do is e-mail the four remaining players. Henchy is so good to Koma. I wonder when Henchy is going to tell Koma how he really feels for him. They'd make a nice couple.

I got back to the party and DJ Cathrine Wheelz and I rocked the Casbah.

Reprezent!

Greetings From The Judge

2007-11-29T10:47:00.000-08:00

Hi everybody, I’ll be your judge this week. *sees Tak and waves enthusiastically* Don’t worry, I’ll be totally impartial *sees Mr. Bennet and waves* I feel that with my experience in the Galactic Navy of the Republic, I’ve had some experience with robots, most of whom weren’t evil, but were controlled by evil people. But I’ve also had some experience with just straight up crazy evil robots *sees Gyrobo and waves*. So everyone work hard, do your best, and we’ll see what you come up with *see Nemonok and looks a bit confused, resists urge to add some fish food to brain tank*

Challenge Number 5

2007-11-26T20:25:00.000-08:00

Ok now you all have been told that there is a guest judge this round who's going to be handing out immunity. Oneida is here and she's going to be watching all of you very closely.

Tak - How close? I better have a shower and buy some new clothes. Oh I'm so nervous I'm sweating right now.

Neemonock - Are you sure this judge will be impartial.

Buttler - Yeah she and the clone have history.

Gyrobo - His crush for her is so big one can carve it out of an iceberg. I did that with my first love. I flew it by helicopter over her house and dropped it on the house. Unfortunately she was in the house at the time. I was crushed.

She'll be ok.

Now for your challenge.

Build a big Robot of Doom.

Use your resident evil genius (not me) from your organsiation you took over last round. And build a good robot to bring terror to the world.

Let the evil continue!

Who wants to be Super-Villain is brought to you by Evil Eddie's robots.

The decision - by Lin

2007-11-26T20:06:00.000-08:00

"Well the votes in." Said Koma to us all in the judges lounge.

"Can I give the verdict to the players and all?" I begged. "Please!!!!!"

"Sure Lin you can do it." ageed Koma.

I read who it was and thought the best way was to tell the looser to his face.

- knock knock-

I knocked at the looser's room.

"Yes Lin. What do you want?" asked the Magneto.

"Guess who lost." I ask.

"Gyrobo?" said Magneto.

"No guess again." I chirped.

"That anti-christ Butter?" he enquired.

"WRONG AGAIN." I shouted. "Its you. So pack your bags and get out of here."

"You are not a Super Villain!"

Then I went and found this guy and we bashed him.

Ah! I like days like these.

The Vote - I voted for Kevin

2007-11-25T16:16:00.000-08:00

In Australia voting is MANDATORY. Yes thats right if your registered to vote and you don't you can go to gaol in my country. Ah! such sweet enforced freedom. My sunburnt country a land of sweeping plains, where we have no bill of rights, and the indigenous population live in third world conditions. And you think you leader is a villain.

Oh well John Howard is gone and now one of you will be soon.

So vote or else you may not be playing in the next round.

Its going to be judged by our guest judge Onieda.

So get voting or else you'll end up not playing. Well you could vote and not play either.

Ah! who cares.

Jugdement time,sucka's

2007-11-25T15:23:00.000-08:00

Ladies and Gents,

Wow....I do have to say. All of you dug deep and found something rotten to join. I am proud. No, not really. I was underwhelmed. You guys are so preachy. All of you are trying to be the worst of the worst. There is much power in the dark side, enjoy it.

Dr.Nemonok; You took a while to get to the point. Your choice of who to join,was good, once you got there. Old Dick is sure is a mean sob. I, would had Gun Nut plug him in the rear for fun. I hear he likes that type of thing.

Tak; Your henchman are going to end up killing each other(thats a good thing). I would watch out for Samantha. If you are not careful, you'll end up with a ginger snap in the throat. Overall, good job.

Mr. Butler; You scare me. That is a really good thing. You always are willing to lie,cheat and steal. To be a true villain, you have to go to place that other are afraid. You did that in shades. Good Show.

Magento; Here, you had a chance to do something grand. Yet, you didn't, you went back to the Brotherhood,like an a desperate girlfriend. You let me down, more than a weekend Dad.

Gyrobo; WTH? Somewhere in there is a brilliant evil mind. I couldn't use my GPS and I got lost in your wonderful madness.

Now the winner. Out the five,two of you are making it fight. It came down to this.

We don’t have time to build a real customer base, so I have to load the coffee with tasteless nicotine, 5X the regular amounts of caffeine, heroin and that stuff at the center of a tootsie pop.

Brilliant.

The winner is Tak.

Dental for all.

M.O.D.O.K. sucks.

Lost & Foundry

2007-11-24T20:00:00.000-08:00

“I couldn’t possibly have any more... I want to say ‘octopus...’” Rubbing her belly, Jalas politely pocketed another handful of the squirming creature. These Regionals sure have some strange appetizers!

“And I’ll have the beef strudel,” my stomach growled at the stationary maître d’. He (clearly a he, female Regionals have short nose hair) sniffed at me suspiciously and set off to the kitchen, a bloody towel draped over his left shoulder blade in the traditional manner.

If you’ve never been sniffed by a Regional, the trick is avoiding eye contact. Not between your eyes and their eyes, for you see (pun intended) they have no eyes. It’s strictly echolocation. Tiny holes around the base of their necks, some emit the sound, others accept the waves.

And in the area where a human face would be are four (five in childhood) nostrils. When they all flare up in unison to sniff you... well, let’s just say I’ve been through two pairs of glasses.

“Put the polycarbonate on my tab,” a chillingly tortured voice rasped from the potted plants.

In lieu of shivering, I siphoned off my excess adrenaline for later. One of R & D’s latest projects in a fear-powered hovercraft and I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t pitch in.

Jalas had no such reservations.

“Zapf. I vowed over the burning ruins of Caldera that you would... know... strudel...” She threatened, becoming increasingly distracted by the waiter returning with my dinner. No Novan can resist another man’s strudel.

“Hermann Zapf, fontographer! How’s that Foundry of yours doing?” I inquired pleasantly. Too pleasantly.

“I’m retired,” Zapf grinned, twirling a wine stem betwixt his fore and aft-fingers. “Although I do keep busy.”

“You sold the Calderans their fonts!” Jalas screamed. “They never would’ve posed a threat if not for those begotten fonts!”

“Restrain yourself or the light won’t blink off,” I said, tapping my portable dashboard. One of the table legs vibrated and I handed Jalas the attached phone; my arch-enemy the Generic Canadian had recently started a telemarketing campaign directed at all international airbases.

Humming disconnectedly, Zapf reached into the potted plant behind him and unearthed some yellowed papers. He proceeded to look them over and hum while Jalas stared at him murderously. I took advantage of the unexpected break to look around the landing bay.

Less than a week since we’d declared our rented airship an international refugee base, hundreds of people had come by biplane, triplane, hot air balloon... enhanced ostrich? We get all sorts here. All come looking for a better life, and as the self-appointed diplomatic head, that burden is ultimately mine.

Fortunately I’m trying to be evil so I don’t have to care about any of them.

A group of young Regionals and some of my less faithful Naven henchmen were gathering by the cardboard boxes piled to separate the main galley from the toiletry bucket. Each Naven was wearing the standard issue garb: a bright orange jumpsuit and tennis shoes; the Regionals wore ragged animal skins over sinewy coats of grime. One of them had six nostrils. Freak!

“Are you a betting man?” Zapf asked. Veins bulged on his eyeballs.

“I’m a betting man than you.”

He laid five cards out on the tabletop. Each had a different sentence written on it:

“Sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow!”
Adjusting quiver and bow, Zompyc killed the fox.
Few quips galvanized the mock jury box.
“Now! Fax... quiz Jack,” my brave ghost pled.
Five quacking (!) zephyrs jolt my wax bed.

“Which one doesn’t belong?”

My goatee trembled. “That one... no, that... no, I was right, that one,” I held up the first card.

“Why that one?” He fanned out the remaining four, unconsciously tracing the characters with an invisible pencil.

“Simple... this one, you can tell from its diagonal stress that it’s an old-style serif font. This one has a huge disparity in line width, it’s definitely a modern serif. This one is smack dab in the middle, totally Timesian. And this one... oh, I just love slab serifs! Beautiful and underappreciated.”

“Why that one?” he repeated. “What makes this card different?”

I knew the Regionals couldn’t understand speech very well but this conversation was turning personal, so I set off a series of supersonic longitudinal waves. The kitchen staff fled in terror, running blindly into walls and furniture.

“Clearly, those letters are all the same width. Though it has serifs, it is technically monospaced.” Leaning back, I congratulated myself on a job adequately done.

Using his tongue like a boneless arm, Zapf snatched the phone from Jalas and brought it to his fuzzy earhole. “She’ll call you back later,” he slurred, beads of greenish saliva warping the plastic case’s coloring as gravity guided them home.

“How uncouth!” my second-in-command commented conceitedly, counting the contradictions of our company’s casual cordiality and (currently) condemnable churlishness.

“Yes. Button your tongue,” I chimed alongside her chide.

Zapf picked up the table (an incredible feat for an old man, considering it was bolted down) and punched it so hard that several reams of paper fell to the floor. “No.”

“Fair enough.” I stammered hastily. “Do I win?”

“Your observation was correct,” the geriatric German grimaced. “So I’m giving you my library card. With it, you can open any door at my offshore foundry by San Serriffe.”

Courtseying, I delicately took the card in my palm. An uneasy feeling coursed through my appendix. “Isn’t San Serriffe ruled by General Pica? A tinpot dictator with dreams of conquest and boundless brutality?”

Laughing ominously, Zapf sulked toward the latrine. With a single pinky, he bust the sink up pretty badly; then with both hands and a foot, peeled the back wall like an orange and slid down the pipes. The faint sound of rotors and an occasional karate chop could be heard from beneath the floorboards.

“That was an awful lot of trouble to go through for a library card,” Jalas grumbled, finally recognizing the right of the paper reams to exist. “We got into Zapf’s foundry, but now we’ve got to deal with some kind o’ Ozymandias wannabe?! What is so important about this foundry?”

By all rights I should have struck her down where she stood, but something about her drawn dagger gave me pause.

“Canada, Jalas.” I turned my head to draw her attention to the world map hung over the cardboard room divisor. My nemesis’ non-face was drawn boldly over the tundra. “The San Serriffe Foundry is within striking distance of Canada.”

“What of the Generalissimo?”

“That was in the 70’s. They’re a democracy now.”

“You just said...!”

“Times change, you naive Novan! Secure the railings! Rally the Navens!” A blood-red cape with black spirals sprouted from my shoulders. “And find me a puppy to drown!”

Man, this library card is burning a hole in my pocket.

Magneto makes some friends

2007-11-24T16:15:00.000-08:00

Join an evil organization? Bah! Magneto does not join - he conquers! The only question is which of the myriad bad guy enterprises shall I allow to benefit from my brilliant leadership?

I have found that the most reliable source for identifying weakened organizations ripe for taking over is the Super Villain Weekly. The help wanted section in the back will tell you who has been routed lately. I leaned back in my evil easy chair and snapped open the paper.

The first item was a help wanted for COBRA. Apparently GI Joe had captured both the Commander and Serpentor and no one else there knew where the key to the Terror Drome was. Believe me, I have no interest in leading an army of soldiers with unlimited ammunition that can't hit a man twenty feet away.

The next piece was for an immediate opening for the Chief Executive of FEMA. Please. They are more incompetent than COBBRA.

The third bit was interesting though. Apparently the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants was recruiting. My Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. I suppose I have to blame myself. I never bothered letting them know I had managed to sneak my way out of Hell. They probably thought I was still dead.

I left my Henchmen with explicit instructions to make my headquarters more . . macho. Then I hopped in a cab and levitated to the Brotherhood's new HQ. Turned out to be a trailer in the back of a Wendy's parking lot in Patterson, New Jersey. My team had fallen on hard times indeed since I died. I knew they would be over-joyed to see me again.

"Oh no! Not this guy again!" wailed the Blob as he tossed aside a used Baconator wrapper.

"Oh great! There goes our health insurance premiums!' moaned Master Mind.

"What are you talking about?" I protested. "Your great and glorious leader has returned!"

"Why?" asked Avalanche. "What did we ever do to you?"

"Yeah!' chipped in Toad. "What do you want from us anyway?"

I drew in a deep breath and raised my arms dramatically. "Why . . to attack the X-Men, of course!"

They all groaned. "Come Magneto," said the Blob. "How many times do they have to kick our asses before we stop attacking them."

"Well if you don't want to do bad guy things like attack super heroes, why did you place that ad in the paper?" I asked.

"We want to do bad guy things," Master Mind said. "We just want to do easier bad guy things."

"Yeah," agreed Toad. "Things that won't get us so beat up all the time."

I thought for a moment. "Well how about fighting the Village People. Do you think you could handle that?"

My troops looked around at each other for a moment and then all broke out into smiles. "Yeah,. let's do that!" they all shouted as one.

We all piled back into the cab and flew back to my fortress. The Brotherhood rushed in, blood in their eyes. I immediately froze. My henchmen had indeed redecorated, though it was definitely not what I meant by more "macho".

Loud, pounding techno music started. The Village People came out with food platters. Blob rushed forward and started to help himself to the food. The other mutants started dancing.

Great. Just great. I'm going back to my command center.

Mission Four: Holy Organization

2007-11-24T12:12:00.000-08:00

Join an evil organization. That was the mission. Ha! Been there, done that. I was once middle management at Primatech Paper Company. What's so evil about paper, you ask? I don't know, but evil it was!

Too bad I'm on the run from the company, otherwise I could just rejoin it and win this stupid challenge. Instead, I'll have to infiltrate a new evil organization, one without paper.

There's only one organization out there deserving of my time. It's perhaps the meanest, toughest, most powerful organization in the world. It brought us The Crusades, The Inquisition, and the most vile, frail woman I've ever known, Mother Teresa.

Yes. I'm going after The Vatican, Holy Mother Church, Babylon's Prostate.

"But the Catholic Church is not evil," The Haitian pointed out.

"Not evil?" I asked. "An organization controlled by one man in perhaps the biggest hat on the entire planet that tells people not to have sex, not to read Harry Potter and forces them to eat their god once a week isn't evil??"

Having worked in the paper business for so long, I knew a thing or two about document dating (not dinner and a movie dating, historical dating). I put my skills to work on what would become the biggest deception since Global Warming.

My insidious document was sent off with The Haitian and my cheerleaders to the San Diego Natural History Museum. That was the current location of the famed Dead Sea Scrolls.

The Cheerleaders used their grace and acrobatic skills (Hmm...I guess it IS a sport after all) to slip my pseudo-prophecy into the arcane texts. The Haitian then found Emanuel Tov, a leading Dead Sea Scroll scholar. He put his hand on Tov's forehead and plucked out the memory of page three of the Scrolls. I then met with Tov.

"Hello, Dr. Tov," I said. "Did you ever examine page three of the Dead Sea Scrolls?"

"What?" He looked at me hazily. "Uh...you know...I don't remember ever checking page three."

While Tov and his crew retrieved the Scrolls for further examination, and amidst the media hype surrounding this, my henchmen and I went out for pizza. The Haitian took off his shirt and had a Sprite.

After lunch, we saw on the news that recent discoveries have prompted a special meeting of Vatican officials to discuss the future of the Christian faith. This was the moment we would make our move. The Haitian, some cheerleaders and I snuck into the meeting disguised as clergy.

The Pope spoke, "This....prophecy is bad news for the Chruch. The man of whom it speaks could be a grave threat to our control."

One of the not popes asked, "More of a threat than Oprah?"

"Yes," Ratzinger replied, "more of a threat than Oprah!"

The cardinals all gasped.

"But how," the not pope continued, "do we know this man exists?"

"Oh, I exist!" My voice boomed in the great hall as I stood.

The cardinals all gasped again.

"Like, oh our god!" Kandi screamed, disguised as a nun. "Somebody should kill him before he, like, usurps us or some big word like that!"
Another of my incognito cheerleaders rose up and pulled a gun. She fired three blanks at my chest. I fired off the squibs and fell dramatically to the floor.

"Well," Big Hat said, "that takes care of that problem. Now what do we do about Oprah?"

I stood up, and Kandi announced, "He has, like, arisen and stuff!"

Here a gasp, there a gasp, everywhere a gasp gasp.

"He wears horn-rimmed glasses," somebody called out.

Another said, "and he rose from the dead!"

The Pope lifted his gothic staff high above his head and said, "This cannot be the man of prophecy. He does not shoot people."

I pulled my gun and shot the Pope in the knee. I didn't kill him, but it'd be a long time before he'd play soccer again, or whatever it is Popes do.

"The prophecy said he'd shoot people, not just one person."

I shot whoever said that, and a couple altar boys just to make certain it was clear.

The council accepted me as the Prophecized One, and gave me a big hat. "As my first order with the big hat," I declared, "we will blame Canada!"

"For what, your Holiness?"

"For everything!"

AOC: Taking over, one cup at a time.

2007-11-24T11:30:00.000-08:00

Samantha stamped her feet, “Well if you have a better plan, then let me know!, but I think taking over the Hello Kitty store is a great idea. Better than Gabby wanting to infiltrate the evil leftist of Hollywood!” She shrieked.

WHY DO HENCHMEN ARGUE? WHY DO DOVES CRY?

“Well what in tarnatin is so gumdang evil about Hello Kitty any how!” Gabby barked back.

We had been going over different plans to take over an evil empire for the past two days, living on nothing but takeout and Starbucks coffee (note to self: do not let 11 year old evil girlscouts have a triple Carmel maccacitos.)

“OK team, let just clam down a bit. I think it is our nerves or the coffee making us so jumpy …..” the words trail off as all three of us look at each other then say as one, “That’s it!! We will take over Starbucks.”

It is a great idea. Really have you seen what they charge for coffee and the fact that everyone seems to pay for it without a second thought. So we quickly implemented a plan.

STEP 1:
Open a successful locally owned coffee shop that is beloved.

TAK’S COFFEE: LOCALLY OWNED SINCE TUESDAY.

We don’t have time to build a real customer base, so I have to load the coffee with tasteless nicotine, 5X the regular amounts of caffeine, heroin and that stuff at the center of a tootsie pop.

NOW THAT A GOOD CUPPA OF JOE

STEP 2:
Within a day we have crowds of people clamoring for the wholesome goodness of Tak’s Coffee.

I DON’T CARE IF YOU ARE COLD, I NEED SOME FRACKING TAK’S COFFEE!!!!

The coffee so good that we even draw the hardest to find celebrities.

HE WANTED TWO TOWERING CUPS OF TAK’S COFFEE

STEP 3:
By Friday the entire Starbuck’s board of directors came to make an offer on Tak’s Coffee and threaten to open up 17 Starbucks within a block of out shop. After just three cups of Tak’s coffee, two of the board member began to think they were at Woodstock again and the rest voted to merge with Tak’s coffee. Gabby was made CEO, as my figurehead.

We kept the Starbuck’s name, made another $7 million and by Saturday have a new corporate spokesman.

WHAT WOULD JESUS DRINK?

It was a long week.

Our guest judge

2007-11-22T03:07:00.000-08:00

"Lin can you meet our guest judge for the 5th Challenge? "Asks Koma.

"Austin can't you see I'm having some non-Y time. No Y chromosome and you are seriously bucking the trend here." The girls and I give him a look of indifference.
"You could show..." He continues but I hold my hand up to stop him.

"Talk to the hand Austin its non-Y time and you are so very much Y." I tell him. "I am not showing some nerdy guy around so he can slobber over me and the girls."

"Uhh-huh!" chorus' the girls.

"The judge is a she Lin. Its Onieda." he tells me.

"Well then that changes everything!" I exclaim. I quickly tell the girls all about the Lt. Cmdr and how absolutely awesome she is.

"Well then girls its party time!" shouts my main girl Dixie.

We meet Onieda at the landing site. She's all so pretty.
"Onieda this is the posse oh and our master of cool Mr Aikio." I introduce.

Onieda is a real princess. She can kick ass take names and still look like a million dollars. She's a real wonder woman.

We took her partying she was all up for it and I'm not sure where she ended up.

I fell asleep.

I last saw her leaving with this guy.

Oh well just long as she's here next week to judge the 5th challenge

Nemonok: Evil is afoot (figuratively speaking, of course)

2007-11-21T11:14:00.000-08:00

“Nemonik.”

“Nemonok.”

“Nemnok.”

“Nemonok.”

“Nemahnok.”

“Nemonok.”

“Neemonok.”

“Close. It is Nemonok.”

“Nemonock?” he asked.

“No, say it like this: Nemonok.”

“Nemernok?” the clone trooper attempted again.

“You still aren’t getting it right. It is pronounced Nemonok.”

“Neemonok?”

“Here, let me give you a little mnemonic to help you with the pronunciation. ‘Dr. Nemonok is the leader of the Dr. Nemonok Gang.’ Now you try it.”

“Uh,” Army of (Cl)one stammered for a moment. “Dr. Nemonok is the leader of the Dr. Nemonok Gang?”

“Very good. That wasn’t so difficult was it? Now that that business is out of the way, what were we about to talk about?”

“Well, you see, all my life I’ve been a clone,” the clone said.

“I see.”

“Always just a number from a batch,” he continued. “Just a faceless cog in a giant faceless machine. A man without a name, without a destiny except to fight and die for my Empire.”

“Interesting. Go on.”

“I’ve seen some pretty horrible things,” he added. “I’ve seen death hundreds of times and faced it dozens of times myself.”

“Indeed. And you do not like this destiny?”

“No, that’s not it,” he replied. “It’s just that I’m supposed to be a nameless, faceless part of a legion, that’s how I was made. But I’ve been developing this individuality.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it started really slow,” AOC said. “But then, I got posted somewhere and I kind of noticed a few things that the other clones didn’t. Then I got sent to the Amazing Mutant Race and Last Gladiator Standing, then this competition. Then I started noticing women.”

“You started to notice women?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded. “Did you know they come in all kinds of different shapes? They’re all beautiful, too. In fact, I had this one commander who used to take good care of me. Wow, she was a hot one.”

“She used to take care of you?”

“I mean, she used to treat me as a person,” AOC clarified. “She treated all her clones with respect. It was weird.”

“And you did not like this?”

“No, I did like it,” he insisted. “It’s just that how can I be a nobody if I’m a somebody? I’m supposed to be faceless, but I’m not. I have a face.”

“You pose an interesting question. Unfortunately, our time for today is up. Perhaps we could talk about it again next week. However, think about this as you go: I am faceless as well, and yet I clearly am an individual.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks a lot, Dr. Nimonik.”

“That’s Nemonok.”

Having helped the clone with his issue as well as putting another of my competition deeper into my (proverbial) grasp, I was ready to lead my troop of evildoers on our next mission. I quickly assembled them in the newly constructed office of our Sierra Gordo base.

“Lady and gentlemen, our task for today is to join an evil organization. I have plans to join the evilest one of all.”

“Is it the Brotherhood of Evil?” asked Apocalypto Pickle.

“Is it the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants?” asked Iron Butterfly.

“Is it Hydra?” asked Gun Nut.

“Is it Cobra?” asked Bob the Goon.

“No, my loyal henches, we will be joining Halliburton. My Shadow Stealthship is prepared for takeoff, in just a few short hours we will be in the Emirate of Dubai.”

“That’s in the Middle East, ain’t it?” asked Butterfly.

“Yeah,” laughed Pickle. “I better bring my sunscreen, huh?”

We made it to Haliburton headquarters and easily made our way to the executive offices and found many of the officers in a meeting. Butterfly pressed his cybernetic auditory receptor against the door and listened.

“So it is settled, we’ll feed spoiled food to the troops in Iraq,” the chairman laughed. “Then we’ll overcharge the American government on all our contracts with them.”

The laughter of the board members was quickly interrupted by my henches bursting through the door into the meeting room.

“What are you people doing here?” a man stood up and angrily demanded. “I am David J. Lesar, CEO of Haliburton and whulp!”

Lesar stumbled back and clutched his arm in pain. The bullet from Gun Nut’s firearm cleanly tore through his arm tissue without hitting bone.

“Nice shooting, dear.”

“Let me kill ‘im, lover” she growled. “Just one shot.”

“Now now, we have been under scrutiny for the past two challenges for being a little too trigger happy. There’s no need to kill this man when I am certain that he will gladly cooperate with us.”

“Never!” he grimaced. “I don’t know who you freaks are, but you’ll pay for this outrage!”

“Yes, of course we will. Apocalypto Pickle, take him away to the dungeons of his office building here. Introduce him to some of the tortures that we villains love to use: water boarding, dogs snapping at his heals, sing to him off key. Have fun with it.”

“Whatever you say boss,” Pickle snarled gladly. He then grabbed the CEO by the collar and dragged him out of the room.

“Now ladies and gentlemen of the board, I have a proposal. My little gang and I are hereby joining your company. All in favor?”

The rest of the officers looked at each other uncomfortably. One finally spoke up “We’ll gladly let you join, you certainly have got the stuff for it. But we have to answer to the Boss first.”

“Your boss? Didn’t I just have him hauled away?”

“No, not him,” the crisply suited man stammered. “The Boss.”

“And who is this Boss?”

“I am,” came a voice from the doorway. “What is going on with my evil corporation?”

“It’s the Penguin!” cried Bob the Goon.

“Not quite,” the Boss answered as he strode forward towards me.

“Vice President Dick Cheney,” Iron Butterfly gasped.

“That’s right, you iron-clad Bozo, wa wa,” he snarled. “And who are you clowns?”

“Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Dr. Nemonok, psychiatrist extraordinaire and this is my gang, Gun Nut, Iron Butterfly, and Bob the Goon. Apocalypto Pickle just took your CEO away, or should I say your former CEO?”

Heh heh, former is right, I think,” Cheney leered an evil leer. “Nemonok, is it? I’ve heard of you. You work for Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord, don’t you?”

“That is true. I am surprised that you know of him.”

“Oh, I am a big fan of his work,” the Vice President smiled. “In fact, I’m following his footsteps in what he did on Tarkuhn V right here on Earth. Slightly smaller scale, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You know, Nemonok, I like you,” he nodded with another smile. “I like your crew here and I like how you operate. I was getting tired of seeing what Lesar was doing around this place and I can’t tell you how happy I am that you shook things up a little bit. His spot is yours.”

“Oh no no, I couldn’t. I am no evil businessman, just an evil psychiatrist.”

“And you’re modest as well, wa wa.” Cheney’s evil fangs glistened through his crooked sneer. “I really like you. Say, would you like to go hunting with me this weekend? Just you and me.”

“That sounds delightful. Unfortunately, I do not have the ability to carry a firearm.”

“Don’t worry, my friend, wa wa,” Cheney grinned. “I’ll carry one for both of us.”

What the ????

2007-11-20T17:47:00.000-08:00

Ladies and Gents,

While I want you villains, to get to know each other.

Some of our players are getting too friendly.

I don't want to happened to Her. It seems she was leaving Tak's HQ at 2 in the morning.

Dental for all.

M.O.D.O.K. sucks.

Challenge Number 4

2007-11-19T18:25:00.000-08:00

Who wants to join an evil organistaion?

Tak - Umm! Koma. You spelled organization wrong.

No I didn't. I use an 's' like it says so in the oxford dictionary. I speak English, I'm from Australia. I don't use those filthy American aberrations.

Tak - Touchy. You look like you could spend sometime with Lin dude.

Lin - Ugh! I don't touch him anymore. Getting back with your Ex is so lame.

Nemonock - Are we getting a challenge or not?

Buttler - I agree with my disembodied competitor.

Magneto - This flim-flammery is merely wasting precious time I could use buffing my helmet.

Henchy - Dude TMI.

Your challenge is to join an evil organistion. You can infiltrate it, take it over, use it to take out an enemy of yours. Send out underlings for ice cream and sherbet. I don't care.
Choose your organistaions carefully as you will be judged by your abilities to work (or not to work) with others.

This challenge was brought to you by Apple and Dr Evil

The Vote - Or we get rid of one of you

2007-11-19T18:10:00.000-08:00

Ok one of you are gone.

Yay!

We come closer to the end of this roller coaster.

So who got bounced?

Who is gone?

Well he turned Tarzan into his buttler.

He says he's from the future and as I've guessed he thinks his mother is Cassandra 'Bat-girl' Cain.

Really how stupid is that for a characters background.

Ok lets get this over and done with.

Bruce Cain

You are not a Super-Villain

Who wants to be a Super-Villain sponsored by
Hot Girlz R Us

The Vote

2007-11-18T16:27:00.000-08:00

Ok Lins gone and given Tak drunken immunity and I believe an open invitation to hang with her posse.

So the rest of you can fight like bantam rosters and decide who leaves.
Remember don't cheat. But you can get as many friends to vote for you.

Blackmail does help. How do you think Crater got to the final of next top hero.

The umm decision

2007-11-18T15:18:00.000-08:00

Well Koma found me at the bar with my Posse.
"Lin you've got to judge this round." he told me.

"Really? I thought all I had to do was look pretty." I answered sarcastically.

"Ooooooooh!" chorused the girls. Mr Aikio was silent, he never said much anyway.

I left the girls and went to some hard thinking.

Also some drinking too.

I got home late that night and turned on the computer to look at all the losers and there posts. Yes thats right your all losers. Especially that jerk Bruce Cain in the ass. Whats all that crap to do with Bat-girl. How'd she get involved with all that Dragon Ball Z crap. Next!

No-brain-spock was next. Brain in a jar I get to the end and its all about him having sex with his henchmen while having tea with Magneto. I'm sure Magneto was into that. It was actually a good idea but the arch-nemesis. Really a bearded mullet man. Whats going on. Also it was a two parter. I thought you'd finished and hadn't done sqwat. So I hope your ass-less brain gets kicked off.

Tak at first I though it was going to be a science lesson with all the volcanoes. Then you got onto the right stuff. A hero wouldn't be caught dead in a store like that. Except maybe Midnighter that gay stud muffin. Woof! I wish he'd switch sides. Then again he'd bring Apollo. Calm down Lin. Calm down. Also I have to give you some credit for not wimping out with the guy on guy action there. You are not repressed at all. How about joining me and the girls for some drinks later on.

Mr Buttler I have to give you some credit. Your evil streak is showing some real possibilities. Taking over the Enron building is a delicious irony. So was your plan to draw out those loser kids and their lame hero. If we had more villains like you the world accept me as their rightful queen.

Magneto well I mentioned you before. You've got to realise that you truly are gay. Just face the disco and dance.

Gyrobo I love you. If you were a human I'd have you for dinner lunch and tea. Then I'd bury the bones in the back yard so the cops wouldn't find them. I'm sure your delicious reality warping imagination would make you quite tasty.

Ok I gotta pick one of you to win so's I better go with.

TAK - You won cause you didn't cop out.

This was brought to you by Lindsay olives.
I decided that I liked my drinks with olives so much I bought the company.

“Can I Crash Your Place?” or “A Doom With A View”

2007-11-17T19:32:00.000-08:00

Jalas rubbed her throbbing temple. Eureka!

“Plan 2: we break into Superman’s fortress. That way we get a lair and an arch-enemy! It’s win-win!”

I stroked my beard wickedly. “Interesting... yes... yes! Yes! No wait, the Navens can’t take on Superman. We’d be up to our ankles in community service by next Tuesday.”

Another dream crushed thanks to those hapless haploids! If water finds its own level, these guys are deuterium.

“What was wrong with plan 1?”

She rolled her eyes. “Creating a subduction zone under the southern Atlantic to drag Antarctica north isn’t feasible.”

“But I have a flag ready! And a national anthem!”

“Why don’t we just stay here?” She asked, stretching her arms upwards at the great iron framework. “A mobile base would give us numerous tactical advantages.”

“Plus, we have squatter’s rights.”

The airship dipped left. Jalas and I were startled to see every Naven run to the left portholes, shouting like grendels. My curiosity finally got the better of me.

“Stand aside!” I pushed past them, trying to avoid direct skin contact. Navens are covered in thick brownish-orange hair — not fur, hair — and they often smelt of wet dog.

The porthole view was breathtaking! Mountains, purple in the distance! Deep shades of blue sky blending into bright turquoise ocean waves over an endless horizon, broken only by brilliant patches of orange and yellow sunlight.

Also, there was a man in a cape flying outside. Faster than a hummingbird can whistle Dixie, he tore the porthole off the wall and threw it into the ocean.

“Everybody get back!” I yelled. Any supervillain worth their salt would have ordered their henchmen to attack en masse, but this particular case was a cause for variation.

“How a-boot that? My greatest pupil — now my bitterest foe, eh?” the intruder snorted.

I clasped my hands and bowed, keeping my fists trained on him the whole time. “Has it come that far, Generic Canadian?”

Perhaps I should explain things a little more at this point.

Back when I was a youthful prototype, I was “liberated” from a top-secret military installation by Peta agents who thought I was a dog. Having proved them wrong by melting through their groovy van, I rocketed myself across North America, looking for a home. One day, I heard a rustling sound coming from just outside the Canadian parliament — all the way from Florida. My hearing has since degraded, but what happened that day will stay with me forever or at least until I get really old.

Apparently, a six-foot anthropomorphic octopus-like insect with a headband had planted a bomb in the parliament for no discernible reason. I managed to destroy the bomb by firing generic missiles at it, and the resulting explosion bathed the House of Commons in dangerous Generic Radiation.

While most of the members were protected by layers of incumbency, one MP received such a high dosage of the stuff that he became a superhero.

The Generic Canadian.

“I took you under my wing, eh, taught you how to fight evil an’ play bingo! And now you’re on the side of evil?” He slumped his shoulders mournfully at me. “Still, I know in my heart your goodness will win through. As they say in my country, there’s no such thing as a bad donut.”

“Well as they say in my country, you’re over international waters now. Your national powers can’t affect me here, you faceless bureaucrat!”

The front of his head contracted sharply. “That’s aboot as low as you can go! You know I lost my face in a silly putty accident when I was five.”

“Yes, I suppose I’ll have to face the music,” I jeered. Taunting (done with the right puns) is classic super-villainy, as my awesome great-grandfather used to say.

“Enough!” He instantly produced half a dozen steel maple leaves in each mitten. “I’ll do to you what I did to the American dollar! En garde!”

“You CAD!”

Shurikens of Saskatchewan! Twisty, tiny metal maple leaves left four of my furry flunkies buckling in agony; Jalas was nowhere to be seen, and the Navens that weren’t minced by my newfound nemesis were hanging their heads out the side of the blimp, panting like pigeons.

A spiteful sneer cracked through my joyous veneer. Grabbing a bleeding Naven by the ankles, I swung him/her like a bat. “Go back to your shadow puppet government and all its trappings!”

Before I could throttle my adversary, a sound not unlike the Voice of Zeus swept through the dirigible’s innards. “Attention all passengers,” the in-ship intercom buzzed, “As per the request of the McDermott Bagging & Airship Co. the United Nations has just declared this airbase an international embassy, conferring full diplomatic immunity on its registered owner — Kyle al Zabar.”

“That’s the fake name I used on the licensing papers,” exclaimed I!

The Generic Canadian fumed; steel maple leaves fell from his mitten, turned into crumpled, dried-out organic leaves and blew away. “Ballots!”

“Yeah. You can’t fight him here, he’s got diplomatic immunity!” laughed a balding Naven. Taking his lead, the others swarmed around me in a side-splitting filibuster. I can only assume they thought candy was in my pockets.

Humbled, Generic Canadian made a beeline to the damaged porthole and swung a leg outside. “You may have won this round, mon ami, but as they say, you must sleep sometime — in Canada.”
As unexpectedly as he had come, the Generic Canadian vanished over the golden horizon, along the line where dark purple clouds bled into the sepia sea.

Politics took over then, and I shook the hand of every Naven but fortunately I didn’t have to kiss their babies; Jalas strode in ominously and surveyed the ravaged area.

“Skin the corpses and patch this hole,” she ordered. The Navens gleefully ran to obey.

“You’ll never guess who has diplomatic immunity,” I drooled. “I can park anywhere!”

“You don’t really have diplomatic immunity. That was me over the intercom. I was lying to get rid of that fool until we can devise a more... permanent solution.”

Sadness and Apprehension! “Won’t the Generic Canadian come back when he realizes he was tricked?! This is just the kind of thing he’d hate.”

“I doubt we’ll see him again for a while,” she shrugged. “He’s lost face.”

Magneto builds a lair.

2007-11-17T12:39:00.000-08:00

Build a new lair?

HA! I could do that in my sleep. I've built nurmerous lairs over the years. Mountains, satillites . . I even had my own country. Of course they all got destroyed. That's the problem with being magnificent. Everyone is jealous and doesn't want me to have what is rightfully mine.

Well this time I am going to build a secret lair that is indestructable! No one shall ever be able to take it from me! Bwahaahahahahahaaaaa!!!!

Oh yes! It shall be the ultimate fortress! I shall construct it out of pure admantium! There will be lazar turrets every ten feet! The wall surrounding it will be 50 feet high! I'll put barb wire on top of it! It will be impregnatable!

Er, impregnitable. Inpreg . . impro . .

No one shall get in!!

Using the full extent of my awesome powers I quickly leveled a 7-11 near the hotel and raised up my fortress, carefully crafting each wall, floor and ceiling. Exhausted after hours of laboring, I returned to the hotel with specific instructions to my henchmen to finish my new lair.

The next morning I was woken to startled squeeling. It was my henchman who dressed like a police officer.

"Mags! We did it! We did it!"

"Did what, you clod?"

"Your new lounge is finished! And it's fab-u-lous!"

"Lounge? What on Earth are you blathering about? Do you mean my secret lair?"

"Yes!"

I left with the Village People to investigate my new fortress.

..

..

..

..

To say the least, I was not impressed. Obviously it would have to be re-done. There wasn't time now though. The trap I had laid for my arch-nemisis was about to be sprung. I could hear the squeaky wheels of my pigeon approaching.

"Eric?" the Bald One asked as he neared the five foot thick outer door of my fortress.

"Hello Charles . . and good-bye," I said, surpressing my evil laugh as I pressed the remote control of the neartest laser turret. A flurry of red balloons shot out from the nozzle and floated down around Xavier. Damn those Village People.

"Er, the balloons are certainly a nice welcome, but I believe your note said you had the $20 you owe me?"

"Yes, yes of course. It's just in here," I said, pointing inside my lair. That last trap may have failed, but this next one was sure to destroy him! Bwwahahahahahaaa!!

"This is, um, certainly an interesting new look for you, Eric," Xavier said as we entered the main room of my lair.

"Yes well, I let my henchmen do the interior design and, well anyway I'm going to have them all killed."

"Oh I don't know Eric, it does go with your pink costume and, um, cape."

"It's not pink! My battlesuit is red! Blood red! The color of war!"

"Sure it is," Xavier said smugly.

"Fine, whatever. Why don't you just roll over there onto that X and I'll give you what I owe you."

I watched with growing anticipation as the Bald One moved onto the X. The fool! When he was in position I pushed the button on the remote to open the trap door over the shark filled tanks below. There was no way he was going to survive this!

Immediately after I pressed the button, multi-colored lights started swirling all around us and fluttering streamers shot down from the ceiling, filling the air. Truly annoying, loud disco music started playing, too. Man, do I hate those Village People.

"You know it's not my birthday, Eric," Charles said with a smirk.

"What?!" I spat. "This is not to honor you, you bald fool! I'm trying to kill you!"

"Well you certainly are doing an impressive job of it."

"Forget it, you liberal hippie commie deluded sentimentalist fool! I had plenty of other unbeatable traps set up here. A giant 50 ton weight would fall on your head over there. Spiked walls would slam together crushing you in the hallway over there. There's poison gas. Burning acid. Scorching flames. This lair had it all! But now I'm going to kill you the old fashioned way! With my bare hands! Bwaahahahhahahahaahahhaaa!!!"

"But you forgot one thing, Eric, my powers of mind-control."

"And you forgot just one thing, Baldy! My helmet protects me from your powers! There's nothing you can do to me!"

"But you forgot just one other thing, Eric. You're not the only one in this room."

To my shock I felt my helmet being lifted off my head. I spun around and saw the Indian Chief standing behind me, holding my helmet. His eyes had that vacant glassy look that morons get when Xavier has taken control of their simpleton brain.

I snatched my helmet from his hands and used the metal beads around his neck to send him flying across the room. I was just putting my helmet back on when everything went dark.

When I awoke an hour later, my henchmen and a crowd of leather clad men with far too much facial hair were dancing in the command center of my lair. I quickly checked my wallet and found $20 missing.

Damn the Bald One!

Mission Three: Relocating and Recycling

2007-11-17T08:37:00.000-08:00

Challenge three is my kind of mission. I'm on the run from an evil paper company (and Ukrainian textile subsidiary) and have recently packed up my family and myself and relocated to ██████ █████. We even changed our name slightly. But this challenge would not only utilize those relocation skills, it would be way more fun.

"Quick!" I yelled at The Haitian. "Look for secret lairs in the newspaper classifieds."

Meanwhile, I put the girls to work on an eye-catching sign. Nothing says secret lair like a sign that says "Secret Lair".

The Haitian and I set off to have a look at what was available. Our first stop: The Technodrome, for sale by owner.

"Does the place come staffed with Pig Guy and Rhino Guy?" I asked the owner.

"Ccccccertainly!" he squealed.

"Hey, boss, that ain't nice!" The rhino responded.
"No, *snort*" said Pig Man. "Not fair at all."

"Sssso, what DO you ssAy?" the little brain burped.

I replied, "I moved out of Texas to get away from mobile homes," and it was off to the next stop.

The Keebler Tree.

The owners were all very pleasant.

"More cookies?" One of the little guys asked.

"Yes, please!" The Haitian clapped enthusiastically.

The younger elves left to the kitchen to fetch more snacks. As soon as they were in the other room, the old elf spoke up. "Please," he begged, "don't buy my tree. I don't want to sell it. It is full of Keebler family magic."

"So, why do you have it for sale?" I asked the diminutive octogenarian.

"My grandchildren, the fiendish brats! They want to get a place in the city, said they'd put me in a home and take away my cookie factory if I didn't sell."

The tree wasn't suitable for my needs; it was much to small for my evil plans and most my henchmen. But I sensed an opportunity for some senseless malice. When the little guys came back, I said, "I'll buy it!"

We continued on to stop number three: The former Enron headquarters.

"I should warn you," the realtor said, "so you can't sue me if something happens."

"What is it?"

"The former owners stockpiled fuel in the basement. I'm not sure why, decorating....a hobby...driving up energy prices. Who knows? Anyway, there's an exhaust port in the yard. A single spark could, if it falls inside, could destroy the entire place.

"Good," I said. Such a vulnerability would no doubt draw would-be super heroes to my lair in a vain attempt to save the galaxy where I can then ambush them with my deadly cheerleaders!...and TIE Fighters! I need to get me some TIE Fighters.

We moved into the building. The sign looked great. I wired the entire place to have cool monitors for my underlings to receive orders on. We also installed gun turrets on the roof.

"Now, all we need is business cards." I looked at The Haitian. "Chop down my Keebler tree and send it off to be made into magical business cards." While he was off doing my bidding, my evil bidding, I went outside to personally see to the trap for my arch nemesis.

I began pouring toxic waste into my yard. It ran down the street. Before long, the brats would show up.

"Wait for them to do their little ring chant before attacking," I commanded over my superior A/V system.

Just as expected they showed up.

"Wait for it..."

"Earth!"

"Wind!"

"Water!"

"Fire!"

"Heart!"

"Now!" I shouted. My cheerleaders leaped from the 2nd floor windows as my soon-to-be arch-nemesis shouted from afar, "By your powers combined..."

He flew on scene only to find the beaten remnants of his cadre of eco-fools.

"Ah, Captain Planet," I said from the top floor. My voice carried over my superior PA system. "Please, do come in. Let's have a talk."

"You'll pay for killing the Planeteers,!" he yelled up at me. "Whoever you are, I'll make you pay for the mess you've made."

"Big deal. They're bio-degradable."

Captain Planet flew up to the top floor and smashed through the window. He was stunned to see that I was merely a monitor, as though he never had that pulled on him before. While he was in shock, I hit a button in the next room. The floor fell from underneath him and a giant net (good for dolphin hunting) fell from the ceiling.

Unable to fly, he landed in the pile of garbage below. It was a fitting end for this recycling retard. I had him trapped.

"Now, let's, like, kill him and stuff!" Kandi suggested.

"Not so fast. Let's turn on the trash compactor. A slow, unobserved death would be best for that liberal nut-job."

"What if you, like, regret it?"

"The only thing I regret is not making a Nemonok joke during the scene with Krang."

AOC: Lairs and Superheros

2007-11-16T10:11:00.000-08:00

I assemble my team to work on the secret lair. We all put out plans on the table, but find issues with each one.

Samantha like the classic art deco Gotham building, but we decide against it due to the fact that Gotham is one of the few places there has not been slump in housing prices and worries about making a return on our investment.

I think the Green Goblin lived there

Gabby thinks we should be out of the way on an Island. But Samantha worried about unruly lava flows and a lack of selling locations for cookies. I was worried about jedi fighting it out around the lair.

Run! Run from the Frosting slide

When I unveil my plan, everyone groans and says we need to make out own lair.

But I put in a Fireman pole for quick escape.

We discuss the matter for a few hours more. “So what I understand from our discussions,” I state, “is we need a place that is easy to get to, hidden in plain site. A place that most cities have, but no one goes to or admits going to…”

“Yep!” Gabby snarls.

“You might be on to something there boss.” Say Samantha as she rolls her eyes

“Good, I have a few phone calls to make. You two gather the other and meet me at this address in 3 hours.”

LATER.

“So what do you two think?” I ask “It fits all of the criteria!”

Only Worry. It may attract members of Congress.

Both Gabby and Samantha look at me speechless.

“And the best part is if any Super Hero’s comes looking for us they will get distracted by all the stuff in side. I have set up sections that give in to all of their special preferences. I have a BBW section for Superman, cuz his like ‘em thick, an AuNatural section for the Green Lantern, a hot Mermaid section for Aquaman. And lots of other for the rest of the do gooders.”

Gabby asks “What if they are guys you like… umm… you know ….. uhhh other …. Well *whispers* guys”

“No reason to get all freaked out Gabby, but we do have a section for that too. Look over there, where Koma is standing.” I tell him.

“What if it not a guy super hero, but a woman who is after you? What then?” Samantha inquires.

“Yeah, what if a hot woman in a tight jumpsuit wanted me?” I state reflectively

We all look at each other and bust up laughing!

“No really,” I say while I regain my composure. “we all know that is never going to happen.

All of a sudden we hear a whooshing sound and a deep voice behind us say “you and you little gang are done here. I need to clean this dirt up.”

The Bat Dude himself.

“Stay!!” I tell my Henchmen as I turn to Batman. “I was expecting you, Dark Knight. And I have a little surprise.” I whistle loudly

Husdon/Robin/WTF???

Private Hudson runs out of the Superstore Yelling “Is she here? Is she here!”

“Yup she is! But she decided to be kinky and dress up as Batman. That Batgirl is just freaky don’t you think.”

“Here comes the H-man!” Hudson screams as he charges the cape crusader.

Before Batman know what is going on Hudson makes it across the parking lot.

Is Batman Kissing back?

Batman breaks away and runs for it with Hudson in hot pursuit.

Gabby shakes his head, while I hear Samantha mutter “That is harsh and just a little hot.”

Nemonok: Deeds, Not Words

2007-11-15T10:01:00.000-08:00

My henches and I were flying over Sierra Gordo in my Shadow Stealthship. The flight was as quiet and uneventful as I had anticipated.

“This isn’t my first time in a spaceship,” Bob the Goon said. “I once was in a 1964 Chevy Malibu that had an alien in the trunk. Otto and I flew through space and time in that thing.”

“Whatever, man,” Apocalypto Pickle grunted.

“It’s true man,” Bob insisted. “Just Otto and I and a plate of shrimp. Y’ see, the flyin’ saucers are time machines. Where d’ you think man came from? From the flyin’ saucers.”

“Hey man, you talking crazy,” Pickle laughed back.

“Quiet, you two,” Iron Butterfly interrupted. “We have something coming up on the screen. A lot of somethings.”

“It looks like an armored force,” Gun Nut said while looking at the readings. “The equipment is definitely from the United States. Looks like we have a highly trained special missions force from America visiting.”

“Destroy them all. I will not have some foreign army despoiling my new country.”

“Yes sir, Doctor,” Butterfly answered with a grin. “Hah ha, a buncha them dopes are in motorcycles, too!”

“Have fun, use the cannons.”

“Hey, lemme in on some o’ that action,” Pickle grabbed the controls to one gun station while Butterfly manned the other. Both happily fired away at the helpless vehicles on the ground.

“Doctor, may I have a word with you?” Gun Nut asked.

“Of course.”

“In private.”

“Very well, please join me in my private chambers.” I moved my containment unit out of the control center as my two henches yelled jubilantly while firing the ship’s weapons.

“Dr. Nemonok, do you like me?” Gun Nut asked once we were in private.

“Of course. I admire your skills and I appreciate your usefulness to me. That is why I handpicked you to be my weapons expert. Well, not handpicked exactly, you know what I mean.”

She stepped closer towards me. “I mean, do you care for me?”

“Yes I do. As I care for the other henches. You are a very valuable member of my team.”

“No not like that,” she breathed heavily. “Not professionally. Personally.”

I finally understood what she was trying to ask. It was the relationship talk, as the females of this species so often engage in. I expected this, but not so soon.

“I appreciate you very much and I care for you very much. I long for your presence when you are not near me.”

“Oh that’s sweet,” Gun Nut replied happily. “What do you like about me?”

“Clearly your countenance commands the attention of not only me, but of all other males in the room.”

“Really? Oh that’s so nice, Doctor Nemonok,” she purred. Then her features changed just slightly. “What else?”

“What else? Very well, I was hoping to save this but now is as good of a time as any. Please look in cold storage unit 5.”

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” she squealed as the door hissed away to reveal a fur coat. “And you got it for me?”

“Certainly. I personally supervised the killing of the animals from which it was made. It cost a little more that way, but you are worth it.”

“Oh Nemonok!” she wrapped her arms around my brain containment tank. “You are wonderful. I’m going to try it on right now!”

“Hey boss,” Iron Butterfly’s voice crackled over the comm system. “We destroyed all those tanks and stuff. Ha ha, we smoked ‘em good.”

“Excellent. Prepare for landing.”

I landed the Shadow Stealthship perfectly and we quickly exited to take a look at our surroundings.

“Looks like a nice spot, boss,” Butterfly said. “Now, how are we gonna build a base?”

“Simple, you and Apocalypto Pickle will build it. You can mine for the iron ore over there. I will have the plans prepared once you have enough.”

Butterfly and Pickle stared at me with their jaws dropped open. Gun Nut just smirked a little.

“Uh boss, I don’t wanna sound ungrateful or anything but we don’t have anything to mine the iron with,” Pickle said. “How do we even know there’s enough iron around here?”

“Heh heh, I have fooled you. That was a little experiment of mine in Earth humor. Wasn’t that funny? I said wasn’t that funny?”

Butterfly and Pickle laughed uncomfortably. Gun Nut continued to smirk and snorted once out of her nose.

“Yeah, you got us, boss,” Butterfly said. “You got us good.”

“Thank you, but my ship shall do the work for us. It is equipped to draw the elements out of the ground to build a protective edifice around it. I know that it is somewhat unconventional, but who wants to go through the hassle of hiring contractors? Bunch of money-soaked felons, they are.”

My underlings watched in awe as the protective base began to form around the ship. Like a metallic crystal stretching out, it quickly enveloped the ship and formed our new base.

“Yo, boss,” Pickle called out. “We got someone coming in on a motorcycle.”

“Aw, did we miss someone back at that masacre? What’s with the jumpsuit?” Butterfly asked as the intruder drew closer.

“That motorcycle kind of looks like a time machine,” Bob the Goon added.

“I’m Ace Hunter, leader of Megaforce,” the man announced as he leapt off his motorcycle. He kissed his thumb and showed it to Gun Nut in some sort of a macho gesture I could only presume. “My team and I are here to help the rebels topple the evil régime that is plaguing this country because the good guys always win, even in the 2000’s. Are you the rebels?”

“Yeah, sure we’re the rebels,” Butterfly snickered. Pickle began to laugh as well.

“What’s so funny here?” Ace Hunter demanded. “Hey, what’s that you got in the jar there? It looks like a brain.”

“Of course it’s a brain, foolish human. It is I, Dr. Nemonok!”

“Doctor Who?” he asked, his eyebrows furled in confusion.

“Not Doctor Who, you stupid twit.” Gun Nut stepped forward. “It’s Dr. Nemonok.”

“And he’s a talking brain?”

“Yes. I am a talking brain, though if you really want to get technical, I don’t actually talk. I send signals that are received and decoded, then transmitted as sound through my vocoder for you to hear. Now if you don’t mind, my henches and I are preparing our new base of operations. Good day, sir.”

Ace Hunter drew his sidearm and aimed it at us. “Henches, eh? Well, we’ll see about that. Why don’t we all just sit right here nice and cozy until the rest of Megaforce arrives.”

“You mean all those tanks and stuff we destroyed back there?” Butterfly threw his thumb back with a laugh. “Nothing’s left but a bunch of smoking scrap, hah hah!”

“Yeah, you’re going to have to write a lot of sad letters to a lot of mothers when you get back,” Pickle chimed in.

“I don’t think that he’s going to get back,” Gun Nut added.

“You fiendish murders!” the hero growled. “I’ll end your reign of terror myself.”

The Megaforce leader tried to pull the trigger of his pistol, but my weapons expert was faster. Ace Hunter reeled backwards as the impact a single slug bore into his forehead, ending his miserable existence quickly and completely.

“Aw, I was gonna bash him,” Butterfly chuckled.

“Too bad for him,” Pickle laughed.

“Good job, Gun Nut. A pity though, I was certainly expecting more. Is this the best that they can offer?”

House hunting and rivals.

2007-11-13T22:00:00.000-08:00

The three blondes are a little angry that they have been demoted since I wished back my mate Vendetta. Not like I care.

Well this next challenge is good news for me. Damned tree house was giving me fleas. I announce to evreyone that we are going to leave. And Tarzan bounds up happily. " This mean Cain leave Tarzan’s home? That Tarzan free?"

" Sure right." I smirk. Before blasting that vermin hatchery he calls a home. As for your jungle well FINAL FLASH!" I set the canopy a blaze then I told Tarzan " "My grandfather used your loved ones as target practice. So enjoy your freedom for what it's worth."

Vendetta smirks. " And get your self a job so you can get a bath and some clothes weirdo." She was dragging the Black Widow and smacked Tarzan over the head with her body. " How cozy. We're getting a new place looks like someone is finally ready for commitment. "

I roll my eyes. "Let's go to Luthor's house of evil realty ."

You know Lex sent me this freak as a realtor.

Tch! Next time he wants some assassins for his next attack against Superman, he's getting The KF Clown, and a bunch of cannon fodder. No Elite.

Mad Dog points and laughs, while the Clown Says " He looks like Ken Doll."

Alpha rolls his eyes. " I should have stayed retired. "

The Creature protests. " I can do anything you dorks can do even better he stares at Vendetta " Want me to show you babe?" She is not amused.

First he teleports to Eternia, Skeletor was trying to sale Snake Mountain. Seems HE-Man appears drunk and beats them all at random times of the day in fact did so at that point.

I'm sorry but a drunken half naked man running in at random intervals, is not what I want. Even though Mandy ,Sandy and Candy begged me to buy it I refused. The next place we went to was the old Legion of Doom's HQ.

" This is great. Why did the LOD abandon this place?" I question.

" No reason." He lies.

" You know pal I read body language and your hiding something tell me or die!"

" The swamp is infested with um Tentacle Monsters."

So after I destroy the swamp and kill the elf I decide to buy one of Arcade's old Murder Worlds and remake it in my image. Yes I'm in an Amusement park of death, and I love every minute. Next was the final part of the challenge lure an Arch rival here.

Unlike most people here, I was born with a nemesis. I turn on a time beacon. A device that sends a signal across the time stream. Soon she'll be here looking for me.

It didn’t take long as soon as it became dark she appeared outside in the Cannon Fodder. Tea cup section she fought her way through them easily. I announce over the PA system " Welcome Batwoman of the Future. This park has different sections all built towards my Henchmen's taste.

First of you are now in the Cannon Fodder teacup ride of doom. I push a button and adamantuium blades fly towards her. Cutting into her skin she blows then up with some explosive Batrangs. Ah not using your powers huh?

She wanders to the next section. No doubt sensing my ki, this part is the KF Clown' s Circus O' Death. Clown bots, and circus performer androids along with mutated animals maul and her The she has to start blasting them with her abilities King Fu Clown Jumps her, And freaks her out with the alien fox thing he picked up on Etrenia.

She defeats the clown and his sick fetishes pretty quickly. Alpha's Gun Fu Dojo Was but an obstacle, but all the Adamantium bullets him and his Army of androids fired at her slowed her down some. Only through her speed did she avoid getting something vital hit.

Sandy Mandy And candy’s Pink Dream House of terror weakened her with evil dolls and the blondes them selves. Got lucky and hit her with a poison gas before Batsy defeated them.

Her metabolism Barley had the time to fight off the toxin when she Stumbles into Mad dog's Kennel Yes exactly like it sounds Batwoman had to battle her way through genetically altered werewolves and Mad Dog him self.

She finally blasted her way into my area. " Gotham Bruce you recreated New Gotham?" Batsie asks to the camera.

"Schway isn’t it?" I ask over the Intercom. Schway is means cool in the future it’s never mind. I laugh as she battles her way through Synthoid Jokerz and people who genetically engineered themselves to be half Animals or as we call them "Splicers."

She finally climbs her way up to the replica of Wayne Tower. Where Evil Ryu awaits Though I don't get why she didn't fly I guess she's too hurt, She and Ryu Has a fight that was similar to mine. And Ryu gets a surprise when the gold aura forms around her and she defeats him with her super strength.

Finally she finds me in the inner chamber. It looks like an old Japanese throne room, but I've installed High tech dimensional portals into the walls so I can go where ever I need to just by walking through.

" Bruce we don't have to do this. " She whines.

" Come now. You know you've always wanted to see which one of us was better .. Sister. " I reveal that I'm ready for battle.

" Fine Bruce but I'm Fighting you as Barbra , Not Batwoman." She takes off her mask. " But one way or another your coming back to our time. "

" What about me Babs?" Vendetta jumps out from behind an Oriental paper divider.
" Bruce? She's alive what did you do?"

This is the distraction I need. I blast Big Sis through one of portal windows and I turn it off, leaving her stranded . That's one throne in my side gone.

" So Bruce where did you send her ?" Vendetta asks. " Somewhere where she'll die?

I laugh. " No. But she'll wish she were dead. "

Let's take a look at where I sent her.

" Again! Again!" the horrible creatures of that reality shout.

" Bruce let me out! Let me out!" Sis screams. I can't stand to see her suffering. So I turn the portal off and watch a movie with Vendetta.

Nemonok: Location, Location, Location

2007-11-13T19:36:00.000-08:00

“Say boss.” It was Apocalypto Pickle. And he was interrupting my discussion with the villain Magneto.

“Can I help you?”

“Well, I heard about what you did for Gun Nut,” he said. “You know, made her—”

“Yes, what about it? Magnus and I are having a nice chat while enjoying tea. Well he is, I don’t drink it myself obviously.”

“Well, I was just thinkin’ I’m kind of a misfit, always have been.” For once, Pickle’s gruff exterior crumbled away, revealing a lonely man beneath his façade. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me… This is kinda awkward, a man askin’ a man like this.”

“Don’t be silly. Throughout the more civilized species of the galaxy, love between two of the same gender does not carry the hostility or prejudices that it does in much of this world.”

“Is that so?” Magneto asked, suddenly gaining interest. “Er, I mean this is quite interesting, of course.”

“Yes. In fact as a race, the Haartarians have 12 distinct genders. Very often, they do not even care what gender they are partnering with as long as the two partners form an emotional bond.”

“So do you think you could do that for me?” Pickle asked. “You know, what you did for Gun Nut?”

“Oh by my dark lord no. I don’t ‘swing’ that way, as your kind often put it.”

“If I may, Pickle,” Magneto offered. “If it is companionship that you seek, my own henchmen have a place where they often hang out.”

“Really?” Pickle’s eyes picked up.

“Yes,” the mutant master of magnetism continued. “I hear them talking about it often. They call it the Y, evidently, and they say that it’s fun to go there. Perhaps I could have them take you there some time.”

“Really?” Pickle asked. “That’d be swell!”

“I’m sure it would. Unfortunately, it is time for my team to gather together. We must discuss my plans for the next challenge.”

“Well, it was very nice having this discussion with you, sir,” Magneto stood up and gathered his long brightly colored cloak. “I must be on my way as well.”

“Then I bid you good day. Perhaps we could pick up our earlier discussion at another time. Now, Apocalypto Pickle, gather the team!”

My four henches were quickly gathered and I introduced them to my plan.

“The plan is very simple. There is a country in Central America that has been in economic turmoil for several of your decades now. They are fighting amongst themselves and the government is run by a cruel, uncaring dictator. This will become our new base of operations.”

“I love the sexy Latinas,” a grin cracked across Iron Butterfly’s face. “What’s the plan once we get there?”

“The plan is so simple that I have no doubt that we will have easy success.”

“Well what is it?” Pickle growled impatiently.

“Quiet you,” Gun Nut warned.

“We will travel in my personal ship, its cloaking device and superior technology will surely get us there without incident. Once there, we will use the advanced technology at my disposal to erect an impenetrable base from which my true plans will come to fruition.”

“And what are those plans, boss?” Butterfly asked.

“We will slowly introduce my technology to the natives of this area, influencing its government, infrastructure, and culture. Then in less than 200 years of your time, this country will be an economic and military powerhouse, able to strike out at others with impunity!”

My four henches quietly stared at me. They stared at me quite a while. Bob the Goon almost said something, but then quietly resigned; unable to articulate his thoughts.

“I may be new to this whole evil mastermind thing, but isn’t this where you tell me how great of a plan this is?”

“Well you see, boss,” Bob began. Once again, he could not continue.

“We’re not going to be around for 200 years!” Pickle finally spat out.

“What, of course you are. You’re my henches, you’re not going anywhere.”

“What we’re trying to say, Doctor,” Gun Nut attempted to carefully phrase her words. “People like us don’t live to be over 200 years old. We might live to be 100 or so, but not much more.”

I stared at them through my clear brain containment tank.

“Well, this does speed up the timetable a bit, I suppose.”

“Yeah, that’ll work if we speed it up, boss,” Bob said. “We’re s’pposed to lure a hero there anyways. Why wait 200 years?”

“Well, I am a patient brain, but I do see your point. Instead of slow and steady, we shall take over the country quickly and haphazardly. Yes. I can’t see anything going wrong with this plan.”

“One more thing, Doctor,” Gun Nut looked at me with her stunning eye. “What country are we going to?”

“The country, my dear friends, is Sierra Gordo.”

Challenge Number 3

2007-11-12T21:24:00.000-08:00

Ok we've gotten rid of one of you.

Sky is gone. We miss her and her army of faceless characters that were way too much for our audience to remember.

Next Challenge.

You've got the Henchmen/women/ and whatever that mutant pickle is. Your all cashed up now from your big heist. Well some of you are.

Time to get a lair.

All great evil villains have a lair. Doc Ock, Mister Freeze, Doom has a whole country for crying out loud.

Even Lin has a Bar where she and her Posse hang out. Be creative with your lair, make it shine to the glory of your evilness. Then when your finished....

Tak - What you want more of us. Gee Koma your just like Darth Vader he always wants more. More death more destruction, more karaoke singing.

Tak?

Tak - Yes Koma?

Shut up or you get to be Lin's plaything. Mr Aikio is still interested in how clones deal with torture.

Tak - Ulp!

So as I was saying when your finished its time to use your lair. Get an arch nemesis and lure him to you lair where like the spider to the fly you will... well thats up to all of you as to what happens.

Again posts in before 12 am Sunday NY time. Magneto I will be watching you closely.

Who wants to be a Super Villain is brought to you by.
Hollywood Fashion Tape.
Now water proof.

Challenge Number 2 the decsison.

2007-11-12T20:51:00.000-08:00

So its so sad to see one of you go, but it has to happen.

To find the best the worst must be weeded out.

The Chaff has to say goodbye to the wheat.

The impurities have to be burnt in order for the true gold to remain.

Who's gone.

Well if you checked the poll its a pretty foregone conclusion.

Sky you are not a Super-Villain

Who wants to be a Super Villain proudly supports the battle against Body Odour.

Voting Begins Again

2007-11-11T19:15:00.000-08:00

This time its serious. The person who has the MOST votes will be removed from this game.

7 beings enter and one has to say goodbye.

You all get to choose.

Round 2-The Decision

2007-11-11T15:34:00.000-08:00

So this round its up to me to give you what I thought about how you all did. Honestly this is the perfect challenge for me, since I'm a mercenary I often steal things. Like Dr. Phil's virginity(that was a side gig for Vulture, and boy did some feathers fly then!).

You all had a simple task of robbing a bank. Its not the hardest thing in the world. None of you even had a real cool car chase. I tried to warn you all, but you didn't take heed of my advice.

First I'll start off with some general comments on each of you:

TX- google? Supervillains don't use the internet unless its for porn or online dating. Be ASHAMED! Logic, pffft....who are you Spock? Mr.Logic-pants here thinks he's better then Dr. Doom or Darkseid!

Bruce Cain-Frankly I'm worried about you. I think you're here for all the wrong reasons. I mean you were out of tune the whole time...*shouting from Koma* What do you mean I'm not Simon Cowell? I have a bloody British accent! I only have 3 wanking shirts! *shouting* What do you mean wanking isn't a word? Anyway you really need to kick things up a notch.

Nemonk-I'm impressed that you used Bob the Goon, but less impressed you're unaware of his zombieness and didn't utlize it. Next time have Bob seduce Dr.Steampunk, he's really into the balding dudes.

AOC-YOU FAIL! How does it feel to have someone be mean to you jerkwad! Plus Spidertrooper? He's not even Picardtrooper or Thorooper. I hope you're happy! You did this to yourself.

Butler- Now here's where it starts to get good! You left your best man for no good reason. But because it made semi-logic I was unimpressed. Being surrouned by Pee-Wee gets you knocked a few points. I mean frickin ' Pee Wee? You couldn't have at least smothered him with Kandi's armpit hair?

Gyrobo- Your plan is overly complicated. Well done! I have no idea if you failed or suceeded. You all should learn from him, and try to confuse me!

Magneto-Good job on deciding to stay back and not get your hands dirty. Unlike everyone else you understand what the role of being a dominant villain is.

And with that the winner is....

MAGNETO! He's neat-o! Haha, I made another funny.

*Koma shouting*

This is too Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 4: Supervillains go to Shell!

As you're reward you get to sleep on my couch and pay half of the utilites and rent! Bravo. You also get a hot dinner date with...you guessed it the Scarlet Witch!

Dental for all! MODOK sucks.

*Koma shouting*

What do you mean I'm not henchmen?! DO YOU NOT SEE THE YELLOW HELMET?

*Koma blah blah sounds like charlie brown adult*

What do you mean that's Koma and I'm retarded! Bloody 'ell mate that's quite some language.

Anyway Excelsior true believers!

I AM TOO STAN LEE KOMA!

Magneto robs a bank, sort of.

2007-11-10T08:48:00.000-08:00

Rob a bank? Bah! That’s child’s play. I’ve been robbing banks since the day I slid from my mother’s womb. Besides, it’s not robbing. That implies that homo sapiens are entitled to actually own property. Everything in this world belongs to the rightful heirs of the planet – homo superior. And I, as the natural leader of homo superiors, am the one entitled to control it all. I cannot steal from myself. Any idiot can see that.

“I don’t understand what the heck you’re talking about,” whined my henchman dressed like an Indian chief.

“Of course not,” I told him. “You are merely a homo sapien. I wouldn’t expect cattle to understand anything. Now take the others and go to the bank and bring back all the money. I’ll stay here and wait for you.”

“You aren’t coming?” the construction worker asked.

“Of course not,” I responded. “Oprah is about to start.”

“Well don’t we need guns or something?” asked the cop.

“Of course not,” I said. “With those stupid costumes your wearing, the people at the bank will assume you have super powers. Just tell them you work for me.”

As my henchmen filed out, I sat back in my Laz-e-boy and turned on the TV. Oh good, Oprah was just starting. I love her opening music. I bet she wrote it herself. Oprah is a genius.

The show was about the trials over-weight women endure in this culture. Sapiens can be so insensitive and judgmental. When I rule this world, the obese will not be persecuted. Unfortunately I had gotten so involved in the pathos of the show that I failed to notice the high-pitched squeal of police sirens outside my building. I didn’t miss the battering ram burst in the front door, however.

A swarm of uniformed officers charged into the living room, the guns drawn. Their metal guns. With a wave of my hand I yanked all their guns from their hands. Then I pulled their belts from their pants by the metal buckles. All their pants fell down to their knees and as one the police tripped over themselves, falling into a big pile.

Leaving by the window, I hovered down to the street. Quickly disabling the other police, I ripped over the roof of the paddy wagon holding my henchmen.

“What on Earth happened?!” I bellowed at them.

“We, uh, we got pinched,” the cowboy said. “When we got to the bank and demanded all the money, the people didn’t believe us. They all just laughed at us. They thought is was a joke. We didn’t have any guns or powers or anything so we just surrendered.”

Pathetic.

“You’re pathetic!” I shouted.

Rising into the air, I lifted the wagon with my henchmen inside and flew us to the bank. Marching inside, I blew the vault door off its hinges and told my pathetic henchman to go in and grab as much cash they could carry.

“What now?” the Indian asked. “The police are still at the hotel.”

Great. Looks like I’m going to need a new hideout.

Unexpected Debt

2007-11-09T23:09:00.000-08:00

"A bill?" I was puzzled. For some reason, Dr. Nemonok thinks (which is all he's really capable of) I owe him $259.60. I was outraged. But, I'm also a stickler about my credit, and even though I'm using a pseudonym, I couldn't let this go unpaid.

Paying for it myself wouldn't be fair, even if I did have all that money from the bank heist which I put The Haitian to work counting.

If only I had some dull-minded moron to trick. Someone I could hustle a few hundred bucks off in a game of chess.

I'm pretty sure Gyrobo is an idiot, but it's hard to tell. It's hard to tell anything about him. I imagine if I tried to hustle him out of some cash, he'd just end up paying me in non-sequiturs.

Stormtroopers are notoriously retarded, with a tendency to bump their heads on doorways. If they play chess like they fight Jedi, I'm sure I could win. But I doubt they ever have any money on them with which to gamble.

The judges were out of the question. If I'm going to win this, I have to stay in their good graces. Besides, they're all way too smart to fall for my common trickery.

The terminator babe was out of the question. I'm good at chess, but I could never beat a machine. However, I could probably out-kill her any day, plasma blaster arm or not.

It seemed my only option was Bruce Cain. Seeing as I already bagged and tagged him, it should be an easy hustle. Unfortunately, he was already three hours into an epic chess game with Tarzan in his treehouse.

There was nobody to hustle.

Then, Nemonok walked in. Well, technically the jar thing he inhabits did the walkling. He sort of just floated around.

"What's with the lipstick?" I asked noticing the bright red marks all over his glass.

"Henchman stuff," he replied. "Did you get my bill?"

"I did."

"I see. When should I expect payment?"

"Never!" I screamed. I jumped out of the chair and kicked over his ridiculous conveyance. The glass shattered and nutrient water spread all over the floor. Nemonok flopped around like a brain out of water. I pulled my gun and shot three rounds into his frontal lobe.

"Well? When do you plan on paying me?"

"Uh," I said, coming out of my daydream. "How about we play a game of chess? You win, I pay you double what you billed me. And if I win, I pay you nothing."

"Hmmm..." The brain seemed to break a slight smile. "Agreed. Your move, Mr. Butler."

I moved a pawn forward.

"B8 to C6," my opponent said. I moved his knight to position for him.

"Touche, Doctor, touche." I said to add much needed dramatic emphasis to our duel.

Minutes later, I had him just where I wanted him.

"By my calculations, it is impossible for you to survive this," he observed. "I will win."

"That's what you think," I said, cuing Phase II of my ingenious plan.

The Haitian stepped into the room, put his hand on Nemonok's contraption and plucked away his memory.

"Sorry, but your friend can't affect me through this Haitian-proof plexiglass."

I knocked over the chessboard. "Well, then game over. You cheated! We didn't agree to Haitian-proof plexiglass."

"Very well. I expect payment by the fifteenth for services rendered."

"Expect it all you want, Krang. You're getting nothing." I headed toward the door. "Nothing!"

"But think of your credit, Mr. Butler," Nemonok warned.

"Big deal. This identity probably won't last long anyway. My Claire Bear is notoriously bad at this sneaky hiding stuff. I expect she'll blow our cover soon enough. Then what will the Butlers' credit score matter to me? Nothing!"

The Haitian handed Nemonok some cash as I stormed out of the room. "Here," he said. "This should cover it."

Nemonok: The Doctor is in

2007-11-09T20:29:00.000-08:00

“I can’t believe you sent that apple-cheeked freak after me like that!”

It was the man who calls himself Mr. Butler and he was quite upset about something. It must have been that Pee Wee character who I sent to visit him while he was doing that bank job. I think he’ll understand if I just explain my actions.

“In my spare time while I am here on Earth, I decided to pick up a few court-appointed counseling cases and he was one of them. Once we got talking, he mentioned his past relationship with you and I thought it would be a splendid idea for you two to see each other again.”

“I almost got caught because of that scrawny bastard,” the former paper salesman and current stone cold killer gritted his teeth at me. “If it weren’t for the Kandi’s, uh, unusual talents, I’d never have gotten rid of him.”

“And you did not enjoy your little reunion?”

“No.”

“Your anxiety caused by this reunion is very unexpected of me and most unfortunate. Would you like to talk about it?”

“Me talk to you?” he scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“Please, we could just chat for a little while. Please, have a seat.”

“Oh.” He was surprised as he sank into the cushions. “This is a really comfortable couch.”

“It is. Sometimes I envy those who posses buttocks. You should try lying down.”

“This is great,” Butler sighed as he leaned back and found a comfortable position.

“So tell me about your daughter Claire.”

“I just want to keep her safe forever, but I don’t know if I can do it. I even went to the Ukraine to kill my old friend and mentor to protect her.” Mr. Butler sighed a bit from his reclined position on the couch. “My little Claire Bear is growing so fast.”

“And what about Lyle?"

“Who?”

“Your son.”

“Oh, him. He has no ability.”

“I see. So you desire to protect the indestructible one, but don't care for the well-being of your mortal child?”

“Exactly!”

“I see.”

“Sometimes I even wonder what I’m even doing in paper.” Butler threw his hands up and shrugged. “People hardly send cards or write letters anymore. They just don’t seem to like paper, it’s too personal.”

“Interesting. If I had a pad of paper here, I would surely be writing on it right now, I assure you.”

“Aw, I can’t be mad at you,” the man in the glasses shook his head and chuckled. “You can’t write, you don’t have any hands to hold the pen. No offense.”

“Oh none taken, of course. I am what I am. You know you should try saying that.”

“I am what I am?” he asked.

“Very good. Now say it with authority.”

“I am what I am,” he repeated.

“Splendid. Now say it with one eye squinted for emphasis.”

“I am what I am,” Mr. Butler said confidently.

“Very well done. You know, we aren’t so much different, you and I. We’re both kind of old fashioned guys: You wear glasses that are slightly anachronistic, you like your paper and you carry your red Swingline like a badge of honor, while I am a disembodied brain encased in a nutrient-rich jar.”

“Oh yeah, I can really see our common ground, too,” the man nodded. “For example, you work for some evil alien determined to rule the galaxy through mysterious means, while I work for an evil paper company that has mysterious goals.”

“Precisely!”

“Oh, except I don’t work for them any more.” The man in horn-rimmed glasses scratched the top of his head. “In fact, I’m trying to take them all down now. Any chance you’d want to do that to your boss?”

“Oh heavens no. I am not that foolish. Well, I see our time is about up, if you want to talk about this next week, please see Bob the Goon about an appointment. I have a tee time in 20 minutes.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not. I’ve never liked golf.”

“Ha ha, now that’s funny,” Butler chuckled. “Hey, thanks for this little talk, it was kind of refreshing.”

I noticed a spring in his step as my pseudo patient walked out of the room. My attention was then drawn to a copper projectile ricocheting off my brain containment jar.

“I want to have a word with you,” my heavily armed henchwoman said as smoke wafted from her weapon pointed at me. I noticed the contemptuous sneer that she normally has was replaced by an angry sneer.

“Gun Nut. What brings you here?”

“You’ve got a whole lot of nerve,” she growled. “You think I’m going to just sit around while you pull all the strings with me and my friends?”

“Well I did hire you. I suppose that would put me in charge. Do you normally shoot your employers like that?”

“Sometimes,” a slight grin cracked from her angry sneer. She holstered her sidearm and stepped towards me. “When they don’t give me what I want.”

“You and Mr. Butler would make a fine couple.”

“Butler’s not the one I want,” she replied as she slid towards me. She breathed heavily on my jar and wiped her finger across the condensation. “You are.”

“I am afraid that it probably wouldn’t work. I am not even certain if our two species are compatible. I also lack a body for physical intimacy. That is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she breathed heavily. She pulled her outfit off, revealing an outfit underneath that I would be certain that the males of her species would definitely find attractive. “Couldn’t you, I dunno, clone a body or something?”

“Believe me, I have tried it. My cloned bodies were even quicker to fall apart in the presence of my dark lord Galactor. Putting my brain in a jar like this was the only way to preserve my life. For what it is.”

“What about putting your brain in someone else’s body?” she suggested. “How about Iron Butterfly? He’s got a big and healthy body.”

“I’ve tried placing my brain in ‘donors’ as well. That is truly more trouble than it’s worth. No one is ever happy with the outcome of one of those surgeries.”

“The one man I could ever love in this Godforsaken galaxy,” Gun Nut threw her arms up and laughed. “The only one who I couldn’t hold in utter contempt and disdain, the only one I could ever consider an equal, and he’s not even a man. Just some brain in a jar.”

“Perhaps I could still assist you in your desire, Gun Nut. As I lack a physical body, I have more time to spend developing my mind. I do have some psionic abilities, most notably low-level telekinesis and telepathy. Just give me a moment for my sensors to map the patterns of your brain and nerve impulses.”

“What? Oh…” her expression changed as I stimulated certain spots, inducing feelings of pleasure and stimulation. “Oh.”

“I think I have found it. There.”

“Oh,” she moaned as another wave washed over her. “That feels so good.”

“You are definitely a desirable woman. Your body has all the proper curves in the proper places.”

“Oh Nemonok,” she sighed. “Oh Nemonok. You are so—”

“I am glad you are enjoying this. Giving you pleasure does indeed give me pleasure.”

She moaned again as I stimulated another cluster of nerves. I moved back to her brain and induced more pleasure in her hypothalamus.

“I would love to make love to your body, but I would more love to make love to your mind.”

She gave one last moan of ecstasy before throwing herself to the ground in front of me. She curled her arms around my lower containment vessel in order to steady herself.

“That… was… wonderful…” she huffed. “Oh my…”

“I am not certain why your species is so enamored with attempting to produce offspring without actually doing so, but I did certainly enjoy our session together.”

Gun Nut looked up and me. “Call me,” she said quietly.

“Most certainly.”

The Impossible Room

2007-11-09T20:14:00.000-08:00

Stars Hollow: McDonald’s Restroom
841:A B.O.P.P.

From the cradle of civilization to the peaks of the Andes, from the primeval to the postmodern, would-be thieves have grappled with a consistent problem: how does one get into a locked room?

The only way to ensure success in my mission of bank robbery would be to consider the worst possible scenario. Lo! Chuck Norris has locked himself inside the Stars Hallow local bank vault. In one hand he wields a welding torch, which he uses to seal the entrance. Pow! In the other are three fists which spontaneously sprout from his palm. Also, mudslides have opened a sinkhole to the center of the Earth and that’s where the bank is now: floating in a sea of white-hot magma.

Burrowing Worboles of the Flesh-Eating Wormholes! Someone would have to be out of their mind to break into a place like that!

“Exactly.” My vast new horde of mild minions stood motionless. “Which is why the place will break into us!”

The Navens stared blissfully at me. Yes, you fools, don’t question it!

Leaning against the paper-towel dispenser, my second-in-command Jalas (a Novan scholar learn-ed in the art of Naven breeding and training) whispered a short prayer to herself. Crocodile tears. If we succeeded, there would no longer be a need to pray.

“War-mommy!” the station monitor choked. “The shiny light on the tunneling beam is red now! You said to tell you when that happened.”

“It’s war-master, but you can still have apple-drink because you tried.”

Miss Manners approves of positive reinforcement as a learning aid, after you get past her nihilistic rhetoric about shaking hands and bathing.

I turned my attention to the continuity accelerator. Blue light poured from its undercarriage, illuminating the ground under the crystal sink. A red light by the USB port signaled a new era in bank robbery, and the Navens fidgeted as if sensing the full scope of what they were witnessing; on the other hand, they had gone several hours without restroom breaks, despite our location.

“Fiddle those knobs! Twist them dials! We need precision, semi-people!”

“Warmaster,” Jalas nudged, “have you considered alternatives? Telekinesis? Underground tunnels? Bribing a guard?”

“All alternatives have been considered and rejected.”

“Warmaster, please! We’re about to open a hole in space and time, teleport ourselves outside the universe.” She shuddered at the accelerator. “It has never been attempted. No life can exist outside the universe, can’t you understand?!”

“That is why we’re wearing scuba gear, Jalas! This was all in the briefing I almost sent you.” I handed her a snorkel. “You should be more precognitive in the future. What number am I thinking of, you, you...”

“Who did you lose?”

“...”

It took the wind out of my argument. Dumbfounded fugue state. A distinct absence of thought plastered my faceplate as the question played over and over in my mind. “I’ve got a sick chimney, Jalas,” was all I could say.

She stared at me with kind eyes that held an inner and most excellent wisdom. “How did it happen?”

Doctors had asked me the same thing many times this year, but I’d evaded them all. I’d never felt comfortable with this topic before, but something in me just... let go.

“Last autumn a chimney sweep came by, charging reasonable rates... too reasonable, I guess...” Numbness. “There was a storm the previous week, and I wanted to be post-paired.” He never took off his boots. “There was something strange about him, but I let him in anyway. The smoke was white, Jalas. It was always black, but then it was white.”

“He never took off his boots.”

She knew.

“No. He didn’t. I read up on it, after the winter ended, when the symptoms really started.” Hiccup! “It’s dying, Jalas. Brick by brick. No mason will touch it, no mortar will heal it. Can’t you see what’s at stake now?”

“You can’t be that selfish,” she scathed. “Risking the universe for one chimney?”

“It’s my chimney!” I shouted loud enough for the Navens to hear.

“Is everything all right in there?”

Jalas slapped a cold-blooded hand over my eyes, knowing that that’s how I really communicate: not through speech, but by facial ticks and gamuts. “Who’s there?”

The knocking stopped. “I’m Marvin Gale, the manager. Some customers complained that the door was stuck, are you all right in there?”

“The door is welded shut from the inside! An eye for an eye, eh, Chuck Norris? He sent you, didn’t he?!” No advisor would prevent me from exercising my right to free speech.

“I’m calling the police if you don’t come out in five minutes,” said this so-called ‘manager.’ What kind of manager didn’t carry a pulse cannon to enforce his will?

“Ignore him,” I held out my hand to the Navens. “The Manager is obviously one of those super-heroes trying to foil our plot. But Marvin Gale made one crucial mistake — he told us his secret identity. Full steam ahead!”

Sweet Passenger Pigeon of the Nexus Ribbon! I had preoccupied myself so much with my knaves that I’d overlooked the viper in my cuckoo’s nest. Just as my hand began the final initialization sequence, Jalas pitchforked me in the back!

“Pitchfork fight!”

Shock. There was a memory lapse, objects glided past my head. Brief disorientation; then sudden remembrance. Betrayed by Jalas? Why?!

“Jalas!” Wrenching the pitchfork from my spine, I acted quickly to dodge a rambunctious Naven as he swung a javelin unintelligently and laughed. “¿Qué es el dillio?”

She slammed the machine frantically. “The Sus idled while our people were subverted by the Calderans! Our credibility, our nobility, our future, all taken away — by you!”

Moi? I pointed to myself. “There must be some mistake, I’m perfect!”

“These! And these!” Documents appeared at her uniform’s hand-holes, shooting out like magicians’ bouquets. “Incontrovertible proof that you provided aid and comfort to Darl the Bloody in his coup! Thousands of Hinterlanders died at his hands. My people, shamed forever.”

“There’s not a violent bone in my body,” I protested, stabbing my pitchfork at a smiling Naven reaching for a hug. Miss Manners will have to bite the bullet on this one. “I resent this.”

I inched closer to the accelerator. Jalas wasn’t trained in quantum tomfoolery, and I much doubted anyone could stop the chain reaction at this point. The status indicator was almost green.

“Take my hand.” Waves of anger hit me. Daggers in her eyes! Fear, uncertainty and doubt! “It is far too late to stop it. Take my hand, and together our fingertips will kiss ever atom that has ever been born. Join in my chorus.”

Around us Navens danced in their carnal ignorance. Our eyes connected, reflected the paradox of grief. But I think we both knew our paths would never again converge.

The light blazed green.

Outside the Universe
±00:00

Mundane things: the prism created by a glass cup, fragments of the sun passing through a cloud patch, a bear on a unicycle, clear, rural water lapping at the banks of a small-town river. Mundane things.

If the right person sees one of these things, it can cause them great pleasure, or pain. Suffering or joy. Morning dew on a freshly-cut field can trigger a dormant childhood memory, and a single lumpy cloud in an otherwise clear sky can inspire sonnets.

Being outside our universe, where the infinite smacked of the unlimited, where the clocks ran backwards and forwards simultaneously, at the place where matter and energy blended into nonexistence, I felt... mundane.

“Have a little mineral water, you silly.”

I peeked an eye. Light from every part of the spectrum came from all directions. No walls or floors or ceilings denoted dimension, but luckily I’d just found a guide.

“Al Gore!” The former vice-president helped me up and patted me down for bugs. Satisfied, he handed me a bottle of Poland Springs.

“Welcome to my special place, Gyrobo.” he motioned to a large steampunk supercomputer hovering over the undifferentiated floorboards. “Welcome to the universe.”

“I don’t get it.”

He licked his lips, and I was disgusted. “It’s like the Matrix...”

“Is Keanu Reeves here, too?”

“The world you know is all just a simulation.”

“Is Keanu Reeves a simulation?”

“Yes,” he conceded.

“But... if Keanu Reeves is a simulation and he stared in the Matrix, which was a simulation, that cancels out and makes him real. So he should be here.”

Al Gore thought that over. “No. Maybe I should use Socrates’ cave analogy.”

“Can I kiss every atom with my fingertips now?”

“You can’t-”

“Why not, you green-thumbed emo kid?!”

“The matter and energy you know exist only within this computer,” he tapped the glowing behemoth. “And, like the Matrix, we can hex-edit the universe to whatever purpose we will. It’s called ‘miracles.’”

“If you can alter the universe, why are you such an environmentalist?”

“Clean code is easier to document.”

I’d totally vote for him.

“So...” I teetered comically, “What’s that over there?”

“That? That’s just the floor. Well, it’s not a real floor. Funny story, actually...”

What luck! With Gore off on one of his long-winded rants, I brought up the universe’s hex editor somehow and used my knowledge of trigonometry to isolate the Milky Way. Schrödinger’s ghost! Free cable! “Don’t get distracted... eye on the ball, eye on the ball... mind over matter...”

“...16^th century France, where cats were burned for entertainment. Complete barbarism. Louis the 14^th-”

“Thanks, but I have to go home now. Just point me to the nearest airlock.”

He blinked. “But can’t you stay a while longer? I can bake some ginger snaps, and we can talk about cat-burning...”

“Sorry, but I’ve got a bank vault full of ill-gotten dough to kneed through waiting at my bungalow. I’ll just burn some cats when I get home.”

“No! Don’t do that!”

“Yeah.” A green light on the holographic display blunk. “That must be my ride! If you have some free time in the future, send Babylon 5 a telepath with a penchant for wedgies, would ya?”

The blood in my arms froze as I was thrown back into normal spacial rotation, but that’s not something you’d notice during bouts of unconsciousness. I felt unburdened and very, very heavy. There’s no reason I should remember being torn between worlds. I definitely was unconscious. But... for one tiny fraction of a second... and this I remember...

My fingertips kissed atoms.

Stars Hollow: McDonald’s Restroom
8:35 P.M.

“I’ve called the police, they will be here in-”

Crash. The restroom door fell off its frame; surviving Navens with fresh play-battle scars walked out first, dragging Jalas behind them on a bed of expertly-stacked pitchforks. At last I emerged, my flashlight glowing with enlightenment.

“Call the police back and tell them... tell them someone miscast a string as an integer.” I winked.

“I... what were you all...” Marvin Gale grabbed the unhinged frame and gawked at the sight of pitchfork-splayed Navens and fortean anomalies still emanating from the accelerator. “What happened in there?”

One short burst of a synapse. Ripples of laughter, a joke come and gone. I chuckled outwardly, but the exact words took a second to process. Taking a sip of bottled water, I grabbed the stocky man and projected my ambient personality into the deepest depths of his soul. And smiled.

“The Angus was a little undercooked.”

To all Competitors

2007-11-09T16:25:00.000-08:00

STEP UP YOUR GAME.

So far I'm disappointed in all your heist plans. They have far too much logic. Are you not familar with the great villains? If Doc Ock is pulling a heist, he'll wait another 20 minutes for no reason. Then Spider-man comes. If Doctor Doom hears about a black man coming to his castle, he knows its Luke Cage. Lex Luthor will talk loudly so Lois Lane can hear his plans. Does it make sesne? Hells no.

So your all probably asking, Mr. Deadpool hows can I have make my plan better? Randomly insert animals with guns. LOLcats can work. They're animals. Use homeless people as sleds to travel to bank.

DON'T USE THE INTERNT.

Have a traitorous sidekick? Leave him alone so its easy for him to betray him. Have a really good henchmen? Leave him at the base because he doesn't have a good mustace. Have a hotty vixen henchmen? Put her in skimpy clothing. Okay that makes some sense. It also explains why Bob wears a jumpsuit.

Finally I'd like reitterate my point. DON'T MAKE SENSE.

Darth Vader told Luke he's his daddy, for no reason then to say f u! He let Han live. No reason. Sauron didn't have Gollum killed. Didn't make any sense. Mr. Sinster watches ominously for no reason.

If you want to be a Supervillain, don't make sense.

Mission Two: Papernapping

2007-11-08T13:10:00.000-08:00

"Sorry," I said to The Haitian. "You'll have to refrain from participation in this. You may arouse suspicion."

"Because I'm a Black man?"

"Uh...no, it's...your...uh...shaved head! Yes, that's it. Your shaved head. Shaved heads are notorious for robbing banks: Lex Luthor, Charlie Brown, Natalie Portman."

"Okay," he said, "but take this, just in case." He handed me a smelly fish with a redish hue.

"Uh, thanks," I said putting it in my inside jacket pocket.

The cheerleaders and I arrived at the bank, ready to go. "Just like we rehearsed," I said. We went inside the bank and took our positions.

"Ready?" Christina cheered rhetorically, "OK!" The girls and I, not so much I, started flipping around and jumping onto shoulders while saying in unison, "One, two, three, four! Everybody get on the floor! Five, six, seven, eight! We are here to rob your bank! Go robbers! Go! Go! Go robbers! Goooooooooo robbers!"

Several girls were thrown up in the air toward the tellers and security guards. They landed on their shoulders, legs around their necks and performed the patented Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders' Bank-Employee-Neck-Snap Maneuver. Just as we had rehearsed at the Stars Hollow Senior Citizen Center, there wasn't enough time for them to hit the alarm.

I quickly grabbed the manager's keys and entered the vault. "Ah!" I smiled, beholding the incredible sight of capitalistic greed, "My favorite kind of paper, money!"

Holding all that money in my hands, I understood the reason for Two-Face's schizophrenia. But before I could flamboyantly go giddy with financial dominance, the vault door slammed shut with a loud....fart?

"Whoopee cushion! Haha!" Pee Wee Herman screamed tossing it to the side.

"You!" I said. "Still working for the company, eh?"

"AAAAAAH!!" Pee Wee ran around the vault yelling like the idiot he pretends to be. "You said the secret word!"

"Are you with the company?"

"AAAAAA-"

"Shut up, you fool and answer me!"

"No," he smiled, "I don't work for the-"

"Say it and I shoot you!"

He giggled and said, "A brain hired me."

"A brain in a jar?" I asked. My stomach sunk and I took a seat. So this is it? Done in by a loony sexual deviant working for a pickled encephelon. Somehow, I always knew it would end like this."

"Ha! Ha!" Pee Wee shouted, turning away from me. "I'm not here to kill you! I'm going to...drive...YOU.....CCRRRAAAZZY!!" Pee Wee turned back to face me and said, "then you'll have no choice but to pay my boss $200/hour to talk about your mother!"

"Oh, yeah?" I said. "I don't enjoy your company!"

As Pee Wee began his familiar shenanigans, I shot him and left the vault with the money.

I rejoined my cheerleaders, bags in hand. "Alright, let's go!"

"Not so fast," Erica said, pointing out the window. "We've got company!"

"Aaaa-ugh...aaaaah!" screaming and moaning erupted from inside the vault. "You...said...the...secret..."

"I'll take care of him!" Kandi volunteered and ran inside the vault.

Outside, the street was was lined with police. "Now's maybe not the best time to say this, Mr. Butler," Erica said, "but you seriously reek!"

I sniffed my armpit. Seaweed. Rotting fish. A New York subway. "Aha!" I said and pulled the red herring from my pocket. "I've got an idea." I tossed the fish out the front door. The fuzz rushed in on it.

"Freeze, punk!"
"Hands in the air!"
"You are one smelly perp!"

While the police were distracted, my team and I sneaked out the back with all the money. Kandi came running out with brain juice dripping from her mouth. "Way to send Pee Wee's boss a message," I congratulated her.

AOC: How to Steal and get away with it.

2007-11-08T11:02:00.000-08:00

Samantha and Gabby returned from scouting the town of Star Hollow and reported what they had found out.

A sleepy town

‘It was like you thought Boss, “Gabby starts, “Quite little town with a big park right across from the bank.”

“The Bank will be a push over.” Samantha tells me “no real guard, antiquated alarm system, computer as old as Gabby. And the people are suckers. I sold over $200.00 work of cookies to some whiny lady and here even whinier teen-age daughter."

But what about feeling fresh, mom?

"They must have some lame fight over their respective relationships. Which must be going badly by the way, cuz no one who is happy buys that many Thin Mint and Tagalogs.” She makes a binge and purge mimicking.

Gabby and I both just stare at her. “What?” she glares back “I am able to read people easily: psychology of marketing merit badge.”

“Well OK then. Let get to the plan.” I say “Gabby, you and the gezzer patrol will set up in the park and do a civil war re-enactment show for the town folks. You be playing the part of the Connecticut 3rd Regiment Infantry….”

“Weren’t they out of New Haven?” Gabby asks “Is Star Hollow even near New Haven.”

“Ok, Gabby you guys can be the Connecticut 6th Regiment Infantry ….”

“But they were out of Hartford. Are we anywhere near Hartford?” Gabby asks again.

“I don’t know. Just pretend to be some fracking group of civil war soldiers. If anyone starts asking too may questions then have Samantha groups step in and start trying to sell them cookies.” I bark. “Now Samantha you have to have a few Girl Scouts outside the bank to distract the local law. Just be cute and make them buy the cookies.”

“And what are you going to do?” they both ask me

“Don’t worry I have a plan and a way to look just like everyone else here” I let them know.

AOC: Blending in

20 minutes later I am in the bank talking to the bank manager.

“… and as you can see the bonds have been secured by Citbank vast holding of home equity mortgages. The profit margin is expected to out strip any capital outlays by your bank … of course, you can have another snicker doodle cookie … any worries about supposed problems in the aforementioned markets has not touched the town of Star Hollow, in fact this place seem recession proof, as Luke stays in business *I laugh heartily* But as I was saying …. What, no I don’t have any milk. But we can head over to Luke’s place and get some right after we work out this agreement …”

Another 20 minutes and 3 boxes of snicker doodles later I am walking out of the bank with a cashiers check for $5.8 million. I hear the town’s people owwwing and awing over Gabby’s Reenactment and the Girl Scouts are selling to the emotionally depressed people of Star Hollow.

Then I hear a voice boom “Stop right there you evil villain”

Crap! How did I end up in a mall?

I stare in disbelief. The spidytrooper laughs “So we meet again my old friend!”

“What?!?!?!?!”

The freak quickly webs me and flings me to the nearest lamp post.

Again, WHAT?!?!?!?!?!

Gabby and Samantha see web slinging trooper and attack. Gabby has his re-enactors load live ammo and start shooting at the friendly neighborhood spidytrooper. As he leaps put of the way, Samantha flings a Thin Mint ninja style. It cuts the web holding me. I drop tp the ground and we all run for it, while Webhead is dodging cookies and bullets.

As we leave the idyllic town of Star Hollow, Samantha lets out a war whoop “We sold over $1,700.00 worth of cookies!!!!!”

Nemonok: A Simple Plan

2007-11-06T15:36:00.000-08:00

“Wait a minute,” Iron Butterfly grumbled. “What’s he doing here? I thought we were your only three henchmen.”

“Of course you are. I just called in Bob the Goon here to do be my main hench.”

Iron Butterfly growled, obviously he was positioning himself as my right hand man and didn’t like this development.

“Bob is well experienced in henching. Tell them about your experience, Bob.”

“Oh, I done a lot. Lessee, I ran with the Joker,” the goon answered. “I worked a chuck wagon on a cattle drive, I built a supercomputer, I was a mechanic for a repo company...”

“Oh Bob, you are being far too modest. In addition to all that he just mentioned, Bob is also very adept in PeopleSoft and has quite a bit of database experience. So he will handle all the administrative tasks for our little group. Honestly, I just don’t understand why this union insists on so much paperwork.”

“Yeah, I understand that life isn’t a bunch o’ unconnected incidents ‘n things,” Bob mumbled. “People don't realize that there's this, like, lattice o' coincidence that lays on top o' everything. Give you an example; show you what I mean: suppose you're thinkin' about a plate o' shrimp. Suddenly someone'll say, like, plate, or shrimp, or plate o' shrimp out of the blue, no explanation. No point in lookin' for one, either. It's all part of a cosmic unconsciousness.”

“Very good, that will be all now, Bob.”

“Anyone want some shrimp?” Bob asked. “No?”

“Yeah, so Bob’s here now,” Butterfly continued to grumble. “Where’s that leave us?”

“And by ‘us’ you mean ‘you,’ don’t you? Your job is not in jeopardy, Mr. Butterfly. I hired you to kick sphincter and chew gum, as they say. And speaking of gum, that brings us to our challenge.”

“Finally some action!” Apocalypto Pickle cracked his knuckles.

“About time.” Gun Nut cocked one of her weapons.

“We will be robbing the Stars Hollow Bank. As I understand it, there will be the local law as well as heroes to contend with there. What they won’t expect is that we will attack it, not from the front or the rear, but from the side.”

I showed a hologram of the bank and the factory next to it.

“Right next to the bank is the Superstar Bubble Gum Factory. We will go through there and rob the bank dry.”

“Sweet,” Butterfly grinned. “Heh heh.”

* * *

By all that is unholy, I cannot wait to get out of this town. As part of my plan (which is brilliant, of course), I am the lookout in the getaway car. My acute sensors pick up everything that is going around and everywhere I scan, there is a mother and daughter dyad sitting there talking to each other about some mundane subject in some awful rapid fire patter. Always dancing around their topic, they are, but never quite hitting it. They’re in the bakery, in the coffee shop, and sitting on park benchs. Always talking about school and relationships and whatever else interests them and their pitiful existence. I cannot wait to get out of this horrid town.

My team burst their way through the gum factory and into the bank with little opposition. In the bank, however, is a different story. As I expected, there were indeed heroes waiting for my group.

“Give it up, punks,” the Amazing Amy Amazon ordered. “It is our duty to stop you and your reign of terror.”

“That’s right, folks,” Professor Steampunk added. “Do not make me use my Osmotronic Retrofier on you.”

“I should just shoot you where you stand,” said the third hero to Gun Nut.

“Merc ‘The Executioner’ Browning,” Gun Nut sneered. “When we last met in Monte Carlo, I only damaged your eye and your rep. Maybe this time I’ll just finish the job.”

“Let’s go, mates!” Apocalypto Pickle shouted. “Let’s stomp these dirty bastards!”

Gun Nut and Browning opened fire on each other with their weapons. Emptying magazine after magazine while running and diving behind anything they could use for cover. Iron Butterfly and Amy Amazon squared off, each one’s immense strength was matched by the other. Professor Steampunk tried to fire his weapon at Pickle, but my hench was too quick on his feet.

The battle raged on for several minutes, with neither team gaining true advantage over the other. Clearly, I was going to have to intervene.

Sigh.

Nature abhors a vacuum and I abhor violence, but some things are just unavoidable, I suppose.

I smashed through the front doors in my armored Robosuit and ran right into the Amazon. She stumbled forward just as Butterfly gave a mighty swing of his club. The impact cleanly separated her head from the rest of her body and it rolled across the lobby’s marble floor.

“You killed Amy!” Steampunk cried as he fired his weapon at me. My Robosuit easily handled his attack and I returned fire with my disrupter, disintegrating the couch he was using for cover. Gun Nut quickly dispatched him with a shot from her weapon.

“Argh!” Merc howled in rage and charged at his arch enemy. He himself was thrown through the air by an explosion courtesy of Pickle. His crumpled body landed on the ground in a twisted, smoking heap.

“Too bad,” Gun Nut sneered as she kicked his corpse. “I wanted to finish him off myself.”

“Butterfly, Pickle, take all that you can haul from the vault. Gun Nut, there is something special in the safety deposit boxes. I want you to retrieve those.”

“You got it, chief!” Pickle sloppily saluted and followed Butterfly into the vault. Gun Nut disappeared into the vault as well and quickly returned with an armful of jewelry.

“They’re beautiful,” she gasped. “Can I keep them?”

“Keep all that you want. All I want is that diamond.”

“This diamond?” she held it up and looked at it in the light. “Sure is big.”

“Yes, this is the Big Mouth Diamond, owned by the wealthy Gilmore family. Or should I say formerly owned by the Gilmore family. I have a purpose for that.”

“You got it,” she smiled.

“Lookit all this money, boss!” Butterfly exited the vault holding several sacks filled with money. “And we can keep all this?”

“Of course. I only want the diamond.”

Bank Heist huh?

2007-11-06T11:58:00.000-08:00

I was called into to judges office. the robot Synth Lin the Beekeeper and Captain Koma sit above me like some In a huge metal hover chair they were in the Spanish Inquisition. And I wasn't catholic.

" Bruce Cain. you've been accused of being a hero how do you plead."

I smirk . " The TX is weak. She is spying on you for the CIA." I snap my fingers and the bloodied and beaten Tarzan hobbles with my suitcase . "Here is a tape of her, her agreeing to spy on the show with a CIA agent. And the contract to do so. also records of her getting a pardon to . Finally she has been sleeping with a superhero. And listen to this that I hacked from her own memory files. "

" Tony I want to be good, and only you can help me. Please help me change. "

Koma looks over all of this. " It's authentic. We have a sheep in Wolves' clothing here it seems."

I grin. " And stabbing the back of my competition will only get me one step closer to victory. Also I'm going to give you another tidbit, The Black Widow is here as well . Spying on you. Her and Sky may be working together. Do me a favor, When you catch Widow whatever you do to her make it hurt a lot."

" Koma doesn't let me off the hook yet. " I checked your DNA , your the son of two "Do gooders." "

" So? If you know who my relatives , you know there are more assassins and murders than there are heroes in both sides of my family."

" Baron Mordo?" Koma commands and some weird man comes out and does some kind of hocus pocus on me.

" His heart is dark, he is full of vengeance and hatred." The magician states. " The only reason he did what he did as to insure the time line that leads to his birth."

" Your dismissed." Koma waves me away. For the heck of it I push a button on my belt and all the TX's army, attack my competitors henchmen. I get a good laugh about that. Even kill a girl scout or two on the way to my target.

Stars Hollow. A sleepy little town. Kids running around. The sun shining. . It just makes me angry. I walk into the bank seems they already had a problem with the villains. Not that it matters. I cased this joint already before I was called by Koma. So I know the layout already.

Kung Fu Clown capers in dancing and delighting the children he hands balloons to everyone when they pop knock out gas flows through the area I hold my breathe as everyone but me, and the clown were out a little bit of ki energy clears the room.

The rest of my henchmen run into the door. " Sandy! Mandy!Candy!" I order the three blondes. " Take the money in the teller's cubicles. Evil Ryu! Break open all the strong boxes in the back. Mad dog! Ok. Where is Mad Dog?"

We find him staring at a bank cashiers breasts,drooling. I roll my eyes and go over to the vault. Alpha asks " So what are you going to use your future tech to break it open."

I shrug "I could but this way will be all the more satisfying. " I grab onto the vault. And pull it out of the wall. I rest it on my shoulder and and exit the bank destroying the walls. The others carry out small bags of money jewels etc. My ninjas are fighting a band of cops.

Tch! I don't have time for this. What would Gramps do here? Oh Yeah . I put up my one hand channel my energy, " Big Bang Attack!"

I laugh as they run away " Look at them run like the bugs they are. " Few of the stragglers tried to shoot me I grab their bullets out of the air, and toss them back at the ones shooting, at a faster rate than the guns would fire hurting and killing a few.....

Finally these idiots pop up. The "heroes " of this town.

" Foul Bad guys now you face the Masked Wrestlers!"

They run up to me and and fake hit me with the soft part of their forearms making punching noises and stomping. I glare then crush one of them with the safe. I use it like a baseball bat on the other one. " Home run!" I snicker. Ad the hero flies off into the horizon.

Back at the tree house cut the loot, and enjoy the after math of the Henchman war I caused here.

Let's give them something to talk about....

2007-11-06T04:25:00.000-08:00

This Stars Hollow seems like a nice place to recover... My destruction of Florida and the other 3 states went so beautifully but then was foiled by those damn Dragon Balls... I was injured while waiting for my challenge. Bruce Cain had allowed the Heroes to find me here and stalled me long enough for Mirai to injury me... A true Traitor amongst us...

Either he is using this Show to prove to himself he is evil, when he is not or he is a spy...

I take my right hand Terminator, T-800 unit 12863065-Beta, from now on named Tony Two and my henchmen... My Army is on stand by...

Koma: Your instructions - First case the joint. Make sure you've got the layout of the bank.
Plan your heist. Are you going to go in all guns a-blazing, or are you going to do it all sneaky?
Make your get-away. There are heroes and the police to deal with. Not mention traffic.

I avoided cocooning, though it means I will repair and heal slowly. I can not afford that do-good anomaly with in me to surface...

Casing th joint is easy and fast... After all I am a Terminatrix and control machines..

First I connected to the World Net System....

Searching through the internet for information and a map, I found it a difficult place to find...
I first received maps on a place called Sleepy Hollow...

Finally I got the Map of this quaint town...
Tony Two and I choose a residential house... He terminated the woman and her husband and I took the Woman's place...

She and her husband had just moved here... She worked in the flower shop...

I gathered my henchmen and Tony Two...

My response: Here is the Map... The Blue are residential houses... Green is businesses... Teal social areas of gathering... Yellow is the post office, purple the school, gray the town square and Red is our Town Square....

I look around and everyone seems to follow... With Terminators this would be simple as I could merely download everything thing to them... Having control of electronics, computers and machines I know the inside and can easy steal the cash either blazing or sneaky... but these carbonite henchmen I have to merely explain..

My response: I will take Mrs. Tistie's place and work from the flower shop... I have control of the cameras, security system, vaults, computers everything...

Everyone nodded

My response: if we go in blazing and terminate all... They will send in SHIELD after me... which could mess up our heist... Their is a time for termination and muscle

I glided my hands over Tony two biceps and then turn to the others

My response: and a time for patients and brains... Of we do this delicately and hit the bank first then the others will have a harder time... After all we were all assigned the same bank..

I looked around and then smiled...

My response: We do not wish to scare anyone in this town so...

I pointed...
My response: I will be using Sumo and Black ying (you are my brothers), I will arrange for you jobs.. Sumo the Market on the other side of the bank... Black Ying the travel agency... Half Kilo you and Tony Two will pretend to be brothers.. You will work in the news stand, Tony you will be my lover while my husband is away on business... Towns like this love to gossip... So to quote a song, let's give them something to talk about...

I stood up straight

my response: I also brought in an outsider...

In walks the finely dressed Lawyer for Black Plague...

Mr ToHell: ToHell, Hugo Tohell... Attorney of law...

I continue...
My response: I will inform the local Lawyers office that I am getting a divorce... Tohell is playing my

I look over to the bodies

My response: late husbands Lawyer, only He will inform the Attonery's office here that Mr Tistie is out of town... They will provide him an office and he will help us surround the Bank..

I pointed to the rest of my henchmen...

My response: Except for charging bull the rest of you will come here on bikes as bikers that are part of the Hells Angels and on your way to meet with them at a Harley convention... You will go here to the Tavern and appear to be getting drunk..
Then go here to the Gallery and create a commotion...While I am at the bank making a withdrawal with Tony.. Halfkilo Sumo and Black Ying will be there to cash your checks.. I will cause all the computers to freeze with a virus and one to short out, causing lots of smoke... Sumo and Black Ying will help the on duty security guard get everyone out and then say I am still in... Halfkilo and Tony Two will terminate him when he enters... Tony Two and Half kilo will empty the safe of all cash, gold, valuables and stocks and bonds... Leave out the emergency exit and proceed to the Pharmacy...
Charging Bull as soon as the commotion starts in the bank you take the Pharmacy.. Tony Two Halfkilo and Charging Bull will take the loot via helicopter and get back to the cabin.. I will leave through the front door and come out coughing. I will leave with Sumo and Black Ying calmly and leave for the rendezvous ... by that time the sheriff and local authorities will have escorted the Hells Angels out of city limits... Don't get arrested just get rowdy and thrown out of town.... We meet back at the Cabin... Any questions?

Mr. Tohell: Do we get to keep the money?

My response: Koma didn't say.. I suppose there is a fare to the show but the rest is ours... The stocks and bonds are yours as payment Mr Tohell... The rest is to be split among the henchmen equally, after the shows fare..

Everything went exactly as planned... The police safely escorted my gang away never knowing what had happened.. Just to make it more difficult for my competitors and to give the show some free publicity I left a calling card in the empty vault...

↑ Grab this Headline Animator

I was sitting back at our Cabin, my henchmen cheering for a heist well pulled off... Tohell took his stocks and bonds and left

Tony Two then walked over...

Tony Two: is now time for Muscle?

Challenge Number 2

2007-11-05T15:42:00.001-08:00

The Heist.

Ah! A classic that all super-villains from the Joker to The Green Goblin have tried. And now so will all of you.

"Bah! Too easy." grumps Brucie-bob Pain-in-the-ass
"I do not require money I am above such human failings." gloats Sky.
"Are we doing this in Gotham?" asks Mr Buttler.
"Steal! Now that will be a novelty. I haven't stolen anything since I stole my sisters boyfriend." says Nemonock.
"Well I'm sure Samantha and the girls will be really good..... boyfriend?" asks Tak bewildered.

Ok you've got your minions, henchmen/girls, cannon fodder. Now its time to use them.

You've got to go and hold up a bank. In Gotham City its so normal the safes all have revolving doors.
Hahaha! Little super-villain joke for you all.

First case the joint. Make sure you've got the layout of the bank.
Plan your heist. Are you going to go in all guns a-blazing, or are you going to do it all sneaky.
Make your get-away. There are heroes and the police to deal with. Not mention traffic.

Your bank isn't in Gotham its in a the sleepy little town of Stars Hollow.

Let the evil commence!

Who wants to be a Super villain is proudly brought to you by Wonder Dog

What would Wonder Dog do...
Brought to you by The Church of Wonder Dog of Latter Day Saints.

Magneto's Punishment

2007-11-05T03:21:00.001-08:00

When Koma asked me to conduct Magneto's punishment I decided to get the posse together.
Mr Aikio was already with me but I had to get some of the girls together.

Ivy, Giganta, and Laser Lady were all ready to go. It was time to pick up Bobo and deal with the laggard. We gassed Magneto's quarters and moved him to a nice plastic cell.

I waited till he woke up.

"Good morning guess what they chose as your punishment?" I chirped loudly.

Magneto swore a blue streak in his native German as well as English and what I thought was Hebrew.
"C'mon it'll be fun Mister Lensher." I told him. "Brighten up, its not that bad."

"I have cheated death what makes you think I'll bow to the whims of a robo-whore like you." He snarled.

"Take in your surroundings Magneto. Its all plastic even the gun Laser Lady gave me. Your my little slave for a day." I gloated.

"NEVER!" shouted the neutered mutant of magnetism.
He lunged at me.
I tossed him into the furniture.

"Now you better not try anything like that again or I'll be forced to make you visit Mr Aikio. You remember him from Lethal Weapon. The torture scene with the shower and the electrodes." I smiled.

"What do you have me to do?" he asked meekly.

"First you can walk Bobo. Then dress up in drag and sing for us." I tell him.

Oh this is going to be fun.

This Week Winner.

2007-11-04T18:12:00.000-08:00

Ladies and Gents,

The Winner of this weeks challenge. Will be brought to you in a second. First the judging.

Bruce Cain...Not great, but not bad. Next, it would be good thing to tell us about your surrounding better. It's like when I am on a date, I like the dinner sometimes,then the bam.

Dr. Nemonok...Very well done. I liked when you put your henchmen to the test. If I were to give you a grade it would be a B+.

AOC...Also well done.The Girl Scouts gave me chills...The incontinent old men,not so much.

TX..Wow, you have a whole army. I hope you can control them. If they get out of hand,I will have to put them down.

Mr.Butler...aka (HRG) I was taken a back in a good way,on how you took charge. Way to step up.However, I would watch out for that last Cheerleader.

Gyrobo...Your brilliance amzaes me. You may go all the way. Everyone should watch out for you. For you indeed have a disturbed mind.

Now for the last one...Mags...Just because you have a few movie under your belt does mean you can't come and go as you please.

The Winner....

Is Mr. Butler. You lied, cheated and stoled. Good for you. My hats off.

Report to the Spacestation for a week of R&R.

Dental for all.

M.O.D.O.K. sucks.

Mangeto buys some friends

2007-11-04T12:58:00.000-08:00

Get some henchmen? Please, I already have an army of henchmen! All of mutantkind are my henchmen! And all of humankind are my slaves! Even if they don't know it yet.

The easiest thing to do I suppose would just be to gather some of my Brotherhood and bring them back here. The thing is, since sneaking back to the land of the living, I haven't looked any of them up. They sort of scattered after I was killed during an intimate moment with TX.

I was on the way to the lobby to get a local paper to check the want ads, when I overheard Henchman talking to AOC.

"Hey, Tak. I just heard about this great new club down the block."

"Oh yeah? Is it . . you know?"

"It's totally are seen. It's called the Manhole. Suppose to be wall to wall guys. The brawny type."

"Perfect!"

As they walked away I realized I had stumbled onto their plan. Obviously this was the local recruiting center for bad guy henchmen. All I had to do now was beat them to it. I rushed out the back door and flagged down a taxi.

"Take me to the Manhole!" I shouted at the taxi driver as I climbed in the backseat, careful to pull all my cape in behind me.

The driver turned around and looked me up and down. He was obviously impressed with my battle suit. He shrugged and started driving.

Several men we hanging around outside the club. Inside was packed. Almost everyone was wearing black leather. Clearly super-villain costumes. Perfect. In no time at all, I had hired 6 perfect candidates.

Magneto is gone

2007-11-04T03:16:00.001-08:00

Now this happens in every blog game. There is always one little blogger who doesn't realise that the game has begun and his post hasn't come in on time.

I believe the deadline was Saturday the 3rd of November.

"The deadline is Saturday 3rd of November."

And Magneto hasn't posted.

Now either Mags doesn't know what day it is or he thinks he can sneak one past Koma.

Well dude your wrong.

The rest don't have to judge who leaves but what Magneto's punishment will be.

Please vote what you want it to be.

Nemonok: Evil Influences

2007-11-03T20:12:00.001-07:00

“So you’re a doctor, huh?” my henchman Iron Butterfly asked me.

“Yes, of course.”

“So, uh, are you an evil scientist or something?” he queried.

“Well yes, I suppose, a psychiatrist, actually. I was once this galaxy’s greatest.”

“A psychiatrist?” he scoffed. “Psychiatrists aren’t evil. Mebbe what they charge is, heh heh.”

“I assure you, I am quite evil. Of course, I didn’t start that way but that is what I am now.”

“So if you’re evil, didja ever kill anyone?” Iron Butterfly asked.

“Oh I abhor violence. No one has ever died by my hand, even when I did have hands.”

“How evil could you be if you’ve never even killed?” he scoffed again.

“I never killed anyone directly. I do admit, however, that beings certainly died due to my manipulations.”

“Due to your manipulations?” Iron Butterfly repeated. “What’re you talking about?”

“Oh it’s very subtle. When I find out what drives a being, what his or her hopes, wants, needs, desires, and fears are, I can push that individual to do anything that I want.”

My henchman looked at me silently for a moment.

“Explain.”

“Very well. I was hoping to save this one for later in the competition, but if you really need an example of my abilities, I shall show you one. I have been subtly influencing my competition here. I mention a few key words to get them thinking, and then I slowly and gradually push them to do what I want.”

“Oh yeah? What did you do?”

“I discussed dancing with the others. Some were easy to push, others replied in nonsensical ramblings. Eventually though, I got everyone thinking what I wanted them to think.”

“Dancing?” Iron Butterfly laughed. “Dancing?”

“Here, I will show you. Please accompany me to the next room.”

“Holy crud.” My enforcer’s jaw dropped when he saw what was there. “I don’t believe it!”

Star in Your Own JibJab! It's Free!

The Trains Will Be Overclocked

2007-11-03T16:45:00.000-07:00

Bottleton Marine Habitat 1, Gift Shop 2
95:15 B.M.

Numbers.

It was all about the numbers.

“They say that when fire ants are dowsed in water, they grab onto each other in a semi-sentient lattice. The resulting ball will float on water, so that half the ants are above the water, half below. After a few seconds the ball rotates, then rotates again a few seconds later, so that no ants drown. After equilibrium has been reached, the ants lash out their hundreds of arms collectively, groping in the ether like an amoeba, flagellating, praying for something to grab onto. Working in unison, the many can accomplish what the few cannot.”

“We don’t sell fire ants.”

Like a knife through my heart!

“I was merely making a point, Beryl,” I skimmed her name tag, “a point of purchase.” Wringing her arms in a soldier-like fashion, she sat down by her register, looking for the inventory sheet. “Unless, of course, you have some fire ants in the back room. Maybe you could... check again-”

“This is a fishery, sir. All we sell here are immature cuttlefish.”

“Immature cuttlefish... does that mean they’re prone to... prank calls and food fighting?! That’d be just what I need!”

She looked like she was about to cry. “That’s what I thought when I started here ten years ago, but it’s not that at all!”

Trying to ignore her suffering was hard; the tears running down her two cheeks totally reminded me of the Novans’ translucent eye-stripes. I was never sure whether those eye-stripes were a different skin-tone, or mere decoration. Either way, to see their eye-stripes in battle was to know certain death...

“That’s it!”

Atom by atom, the room erupted into cheer at my epiphany! The despondent Beryl, her boss (who was currently breaking his promise to his wife and doctor not to eat red meat), the 22 children there on a field trip, their teacher (who retired the year before from a major pharmaceutical firm and saw teaching more as a way to keep busy than as a calling), Morgan the bus driver (a man who would give you the shirt off his back if you only asked for it), and Jim, all ran up and congratulated me: a slap on the back, a hug, one or two gold watches. Still, no balloons... not at all like a fishery not to have balloons handy...

Naturally, the cuttlefish took the opportunity to unleash a series of whoopie cushions — too little, too late — but my mind was already dressed and made up.

“Morgan, give me your keys,” I asked/demanded of the 36-year-old Capricorn with a beard but no mustache.

“Sorry chief. I’ve got to get these kids back home.”

“Then give me the shirt off your back, that I might pawn it for transport fare! I cannot keep the Novans waiting — they aren’t expecting me!” I waved, harpooning my way out.

Desk draws spilled in celebration as I exited, octopi and squid danced in unison. Electric eels shot off sparks as I passed their tanks, immaculate white-hot embers landed in my wake. Bioluminescent starfish brightened each display with a panoply of colors; for once I could physically taste the rainbow.

Base of the Anorak Mountain Complex
306:20 B.R.

“Bingo.” Side 8 was always unguarded. The doors were handcrafted from the bones of long-dead whales, but they’d clearly done the floor molding on the cheap. Disgraceful.

Hallways upon hallways, a labyrinth that would put King Minos to shame; but the creatures which dwelt here were far more dangerous than any minotaur. And I’ve seen minotaurs before, so I can say that with complete certainty — unless we involve the uncertainty principle. But that principle only applies if we’re trying to find the location and momentum of a minotaur simultaneously. Now that would be dangerous.

For every voice in my head that said this was crazy, ten more told it to pipe down. Then it came: “I do believe you are looking for something forbidden!”

My heels froze, in a bad way! Before me was an unromantic metallic pink/purple figure. Its skin — chainmail, really — was dark green in the torchlight and small horns lined its skull. “Can you take me to the Novans? I have no appointment with them.”

It hissed, shaking a fist in my direction, and causing me anxiety! “In this holy place, we are the Sus! You will call us that, in accordance with our highest customs, or leave.”

“That’s a completely reasonable request, but I choose not to follow it. After all, your highest law says the customer is always right, eh what?”

It sighed, gestured to a beaded curtain my pride had helped me ignore earlier and said hello the proper way.

“What lies beyond the veil?!” My outstretched arm rubbed the beads. They were so soft and gel-like, I almost didn’t want to let go. For a second — just a second — I wanted to relive my youth and eat those beads like candy.

“There is no candy in there,” it prophesied as if reading my thoughts, “but you will find the seeds of a small army, and the implements to grow them.”

“Can I buy the fertilizer here, too? Or is there a special store for that?”

“That is in aisle infinity,” the sage soothsaid.

Behind the Curtain
308:43 B.R.

The ambiance was all wrong. In the middle of the small room was a flame pit, but there must have been too much oxygen. The flames weren’t red enough for a dramatic flair, the shadows on the wall were not menacing at all, and the walls themselves weren’t all that rocky and ancient. The whole thing was a prefab nightmare, painted some hideous shade of light blue.

My delicate pallet was offended, and I let the Novans know this in no uncertain terms: “Your holiest city is ugly, and I’d like your people to do menial work for me for little or no pay.”

Thank the Heap looks could not inflict fatal wounds! One unsheathed a poorly-carved whiffle-bat. “We’d like to welcome you, stranger, with a ceremonial beating!”

“That will have to wait. We need hard currency to fight off Lord Vista.” The mystic I’d acquainted myself with in the endless hallways strode through the curtain, now with a cape and toaster pelts on each shoulder. So, he was their grandfather all along.

“You should all definitely listen to whatever benefits me most. I’m the only real person in the universe, the rest of you are figments of my imagination.”

Unfolding a collapsible bridge table from my back pocket, I laid out a map of Mainland military installations. The critical ones were in red, the moderate ones in orange, and Jim’s house was in blue.

“The edges are torn.” The mystic licked the edges with callused fingertips. It was easy to see where the page had parted ways with a pretty nifty paper shredder; a word to the wise, never try to shred plastic eggs.

“You’ll get the rest of the map once I’ve got my henchmen trained — unless you don’t have a few dozen warrior I could borrow for a while, just to help me unpack all my furniture at the summer house,” I lied. They had no way of knowing my properties in Connecticut weren’t real. Nothing is real, except your own mind! History never happened!

Bowing like a bowlegged tarantula, the lead Novan nodded sideways and pulled out a Magic 8 Ball. “The ball foretold of your arrival and desires, days ago!”

“Then I was not unexpected!” Crestfallen, I solemnly took stock of my beliefs. Every decision I’d ever made was based on the assumption that the Novans were not expecting me. If this was a fallacy, then what else could I have been wrong about? Was Morgan the bus driver a Scorpio?!

“Resources are tight, mon friar. But for several hours our forces have been marshaling for a total inventory... we’ve got a handful of Navens left over from the beforetime you could use.”

“What manner of creature are these Navens?”

“A failed genetic experiment,” laughed a fat Novan. A Jovian Novan! “They were mocked and persecuted in the beforetime, almost completely wiped out. For a thousand years we thought them a legend. But we found some in cryo-jello in an old abandoned science mine!”

“Can they fight? Are they obedient?” These Navens sound like an increasingly poor investment.

Scratching his belly while looking particularly evil and merciless, the mystic shrugged. “All we’ve ever seen them do is grab onto each other in water, rotating themselves so they never drown while reaching out for something solid. Like a giant amoeba.”

I dropped to my knees and sobbed openly; droplets of sulfur hexafluoride vaporized upon impact with the ground. Shaking like a leaf, my unconscious mind (the one that doesn’t exist) used my hand to surrender the remainder of the map.

“Take me to these wonderful creatures.”

Mission One: Henchleaders

2007-11-02T08:22:00.000-07:00

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!"

For Great Dishonor!

2007-11-01T20:06:00.000-07:00

“Mister Garibaldi, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You want to tell me what you people think you’re doing?”

Alfred Bester leaned back, his permanent half-smirk temporarily erased. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“O Rly?” Garibaldi pointed directly down. “Bester, I’m not wearing pants.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Is that something the Psi Corps should be concerned about?”

A fatigued Garibaldi craned his neck. “Do you know why I’m not wearing pants, Mister Bester?” Another awkward pause. “We’ve got a rogue Psi Cop running loose on the station, probably higher than P-12.”

“We don’t have any P-12-”

“Let me finish. Five days ago, a telepath came by as our new ‘liaison’ with EarthGov. The next day, five lurkers were admitted to med lab with severe wedgie burns.”

“What?”

“The perpetrator couldn’t be identified, because none of the victims recalled their attacker’s face, almost as if it had been... wiped from their minds. So we had your ‘liaison’ trailed by three station guards. And guess what, pal? They’re all in med lab right now, severe wedgie burns all around.”

“This is insane!”

“I’m glad you appreciate what we’re going through, Bester. After the confrontation, your Psi Cop went completely rogue...”

“We never assigned a Psi Cop to Babylon 5.”

“This isn’t a game, Bester. Earth Force has already lost twenty-six perfectly good pairs of pants. Do I need to make that twenty-seven?”

“This has got to be a joke.”

“Do my sweaty knees look like they’re joking to you, doc? Sheridan had to ban pants in the name of public safety, and we had to crank up the furnace. This place is hotter than a crate of dust. What’s wrong with you people?”

“I want to talk to Sheridan!”

“He’s just gonna ask you the same thing: what’re you doing? What’s EarthForce doing about this? Is EarthForce even up and running back home?”

“Of course it is!”

“Then you’d better go catch it!” I laughed, slamming the viewscreen against its cradle like an aluminum baby.

Various inanimate objects within earshot rippled in delight as my isomorphic generator powered down and Garibaldi exploded into artifacts; another successful prank phone call!

“Why don’t you have any real ambition,” my self-portrait asked coyly. Fixed to my cherry-coated bunker wall, he was an unpleasant holdover from my Dorian Gray days. Back when I thought a mere — scoff! — painting could guarantee my immortality. Instead of a repository for my age and disease and disfigurement and decapitation, I’d accidentally created a two-dimensional doppelgänger! “The universe is begging to be conquered. There’s a real market for global domination.”

“Do I look like I have four right angles? Ambition is for squares.” I tore my eyes from the accusatory canvas.

“Now who’s being two-dimensional?”

“I seek neither your council,” I froze to accentuate the tensitude, “nor your fashion sense,” my subvocalizer roared as I scooped up the phone faster than you could gut a trout. “I am a prank caller. My father was a prank caller, and his father before him, all the way back to my great grandfather. That guy was awesome.”

He strained against the inlaid frame: “Then prove him right. I’ve got a boarding pass here, you see.”

My interest spiked! “A boarding pass, you say, you say? A boarding pass, you say?”

“Yes, oh yes, a boarding pass, you see! A boarding pass to the Plaza Station.”

“Where is that,” I asked absent-mindlessly, packing my puce pantaloons in pear-shaped pods. “The Hinterlands? It isn’t safe to travel to those places, they say, not until Lord Vista has broken the resistance.”

Marble swirls formed on the wooden mantle beneath the belligerent portrait. I heard the chimney cough, but I was powerless to help it; the disease was viral, it would have to heal on its own. Weep inwardly.

“Hinterubbish! Macintrash!” it spat, “Lord Vista is nothing. Six centuries, and he still can’t mount an insurmountable offense.”

“I call blasphemy.”

“What you call it is inconsequential, you three di-moron! What I’m saying is...” he reached from the canvas and placed a boarding pass in my front pocket. “...you could do better. How now, go down! The flying machine awaits.”

Each letter on the pass was golden, and handwritten — not printed. “And once I’ve become a super-villain...?”

No words, no thought, no signs of intelligence past or future; the simulacrum was silent against the wall.

“An excellent omen!”

Who should be the first to leave?
	Mr. Buttler
	Brucie Cain
	Nemonock
	TX - Sky The Sexinator
	Gyrobo
	Tak A(o)C

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How should Magneto be punished?
	Watch Koma's dvd of Hudson Hawk?
	Spend 48 hours in New Jersy?
	Listen to Xavier plead for his humanity?
	Become Lin's Henchman for a day?

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Who's getting let go?
	Nemonock
	Gyrobo
	Tak

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Who's leaving this game?
	Neemonock
	Mr Buttler
	Gyrobo
	Magneto

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Who leaves the game?
	Bruce Cain
	Magneto
	Nemonock
	Mr Buttler
	Gyrobo

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