Inspired by this Lego set

Screamy, screechy sirens blasted from the First Outer Space National Bank, like a bajillion trumpets fistfighting a bajillion whiny elephants. The racket could be heard a hundred planets away, on Forbishot, where it was 2 AM and the entire population would wake up cranky the next morning. Something terrible must have happened at the First Outer Space National Bank. Something worse than the President of the Galaxy stubbing his toe. Worse than mass interstellar ice cream headaches. Even worse than having to wear a tie.
The doors burst open as if the bank were releasing a ginormous belch, and out flew the most dastardly villain in the galaxy, K. Thulu Squidman IV, aka Squid Man. Part man, part squid, all badditude and greediness and liar-liar pants afire. He had been responsible for the Venusian Dog Kidnapping. He was the mastermind behind the Counterfeit Constellation Crisis. And now, clutched in his slimy squid tentacle was the last one hundred dollar bill the First Outer Space National Bank had in its vault. Poor Mrs. McMartian needed that money to fix the anti-gravity brake shoes in her Ford Galaxy Cruiser starship, or she would miss her grandson’s first Space-Tee-Ball game. “Help!” she cried, “Help me, please! Space Police!”
As quick as a greased lightning bolt shot from a greased cannon, Ponsonby Britt of the Space Police arrived on his Raptor. “Police, ma’am, what is the emergency?” he grandly stated, thrusting his heroic chin toward adventure.
“Took you long enough, sonny,” Mrs. McMartian said. “He’s getting away! Look!” And she pointed at Squid Man, whose escape was already in progress. “Ha, ha! You’ll never get me now, Space-Flatfoot!” he shouted, his voice crackling like evil Velcro on a devious pair of shoes. But, curses! His hovercycle was gone. Squid Man had parked in a red zone and Space Law 419-A stated any vehicles parked in red zones were towed immediately. “Blast!” he cursed. “I’ll just have to make my escape by tentacled foot.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it!” said Ponsonby Britt. “Surrender or I shall be forced to write you up, scathingly.”
“Don’t just float there; go get him, Space Cop!” Mrs. McMartian yelled, beating his Raptor with her space clutch. Squid Man was several blocks away, and with those words of encouragement, Ponsonby gave chase. Squid Man was fast, however and soon lost the space policeman. He skidded to a tentacled stop and looked left and right. Then he ducked around the corner into an empty alley. He paused, catching his villainous breath.
“I’ll just hide in this conspicuous box labeled ‘Outer Space Swiss Cheese,’ he’ll never look for me here,” the bank robber said, rubbing his tentacles together with much glee and minimal friction.
When Ponsonby Britt arrived at the alley, his first thought was that Squid Man had somehow escaped through a hole, or by climbing the wall into the courtyard of the Ye Olde Space Tenements of the Future next door. The only other possibility was so ludicrous he dismissed it outright. “He wouldn’t hide in that conspicuous box labeled ‘Outer Space Swiss Cheese,’ not Squid Man. He’s too smart for that old trick.”
Inside the box, Squid Man, despite his best efforts, couldn’t help but guffaw loudly. “I knew I could outsmart that Space Cop!” But he had fallen for Ponsonby’s clever ruse. Knowing that Squid Man’s biggest weakness was his pride, followed by his loud guffaw, he revealed the mad genius once and for all.
“Come out of there, fiend! K. Thulu Squidman IV, you are under arrest for violating Space Law 57-C, no robbing banks.” He pointed his laser roscoe at the box.
“Curses! You win this round, Space Cop, but this is far from over.” And he was right, but for now, it was over. Squid Man was sent to Outer Space State Penitentiary and Mrs. McMartian was given her one hundred dollars and fixed her anti-gravity brake shoes just in time to see her grandson’s first Space-Tee-Ball game. And though he lost, she was pleased to be in attendance, and even more pleased to chastise and insult him for losing so poorly. Which is why Ponsonby Britt arrested her, too.
Space Law 83-F states no insults are allowed at a Space-Tee-Ball game.

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