Sep. 20th, 2015

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Deep in the forest, something or someone howls at the moon.

Yeah, it's a someone. It's Doctor Evil, standing beside the broken down, rusted remains of his Bob's Big Boy, boo-hooing over it's lamentable state of non-function. If only he could use it to fly off, abandon ship, leave this bar and all its insolent patrons behind. It has become increasingly clear to the evil genius that he has been too long distracted from his goal of taking over the world. His imagination and ambition got away from him. Why take over one world when you could take over... the universe? Yeah. He could have anything. Even one MILLION dollars.

Turns out there is a very good reason: the people in this bar are a gigantic pain in the ass.

Sighing, he wipes his face and lifts his chin, giving Mini-Me an imperious look that will hopefully distract from his existential crisis of moments before.

"Mini-Me, my precious clone in one-eighth form, I have been lamentably... not stupid, because I remain an evil genius... but blinded by a too large picture. Yeah. Need to back it up a bit. Rewind the tape. No? Don't know what a tape is? Honestly. How quickly the young forget and the idiots assimilate. Riiiiight, how about... As Number Two likes to say before I shoot him with my Nerf gun, 'restructure' the 'business.'"

He nods, the motion vaguely spasmodic.

"Who are these football hooligans? It doesn't matter. No. I am Doctor Evil! I... will TRIUMPH!" he yells, pumping his fist in the air. Moments later, frozen in place, he asks Mini-Me without moving his lips, "Are they here? No? Show Daddy where to hide next. Yeah. We're going to go full on Statham on their ass... asses? Whatever."

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Doctor Evil

October 2015

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