BWAH-HA-HA! IF YOU ARE READING THIS, THEN YOU ARE ABOUT TO BECOME DEAD MEAT! WATCH OUT! OR THE NEXT DEAD MEAT YOU SEE WILL BE YOU!
READ NO FURTHER OR THE HORRENDOUS HEX OF A ZILLION CURSES WILL BEFALL YOU, CAUSING ALL MANNER OF WARTS AND FOOT CRAMPS AND HEART ATTACKS OR SOMETHING. AND PESTILENCES, LIKE SWARMS OF LOCUSTS AND HEAVY RAINS AND UNENDING PHONE CALLS FROM YOUR MOST BORING FRIENDS! WHAT’S MORE, YOU WILL BE CURSED WITH THIS HEX FOR ALL OF ETERNITY! AND THEN SOME! TURN BACK BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!
SERIOUSLY, STOP NOW IF YOU DON’T WANT THE CURSE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
-Idea for Sinister Sofa, the Like As A Friend Seat: a love seat with an invisible electric barrier to keep slicksters and Joe Cools and other unsavory fellows from pulling the old Fake-Yawn-Into-Arm-Around-Shoulder Maneuver. Those gents feeling so bold as to attempt the trick will find themselves saying a Farewell to Arms, literally, not literarily! Bwah-ha-ha! The high-focus laser beam will slice the swain’s arm in twain, like a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. You’re welcome, ladies.
-Possible start to my memoirs, “Bwah-ha-ha: The Life & Evil Laughs of the Nefarious Dr. Wilhelm Skreem”: Chapter One, He adored evil. He idolized it all out of proportion. No, no, make that, he romanticized it all out of proportion. To him, evil was a metaphor for all the dastardly and delicious evil in the world. That being said, he really didn’t understand how metaphors worked.
-Creature Concept: Gertrude Steinasaur! Using those fossilized remains I found at the site of that prehistoric Parisian café, I can reanimate the most deconstructive reptile that ever roamed the earth of the world of the earth, the Gertrude Steinasaur! She will destroy your conception of sentence structure! She will annihilate abstractly and abstractly. There can be breakages in Japanese. Your fear will have a taste. It is copper and blue. The Gertrude Steinasaur is copper and blue. I have lost my train of thought. The train is a feather and thought is a table. But the Gertrude Steinasaur will breathe fire and the fire she will breathe will be breathed as fire!
-Which is my most menacing sweater? Arrogant argyle, sinister striped, or vicious v-neck? My instinct tells me stripes, but vertical stripes. That way I look much taller than I actually am, and loom larger over my cowering subjects. And make it blue stripes. Blue really makes my eyes pop, like they’re coming right out at you!
-Hypnotism reminder: It’s ‘you are getting sleepy’ and ‘your eyelids are getting heavy.’ For some reason, I keep saying the opposite. Subjects much more difficult to mentally manipulate when wide awake. And more belligerent. Also, switch to pocket watch. That Swatch watch is much too distracting, though way more stylish.
-A good front for a secret lair would be a deli. One that’s a bit out of the way, so I’m left to my own devilish devices, but add an air of mysterious appeal that would attract hipsters and the elderly. That particular demographic wouldn’t notice or care about my prolonged absences or mediocre sandwich making skills. Old people love mediocre things like daytime television and Tea Party candidates, and the hipsters could focus their patented strategic enthusiasm on my too dry tuna salad. Plus I love pickles and it would give me a great excuse to munch maliciously on a kosher dill spear whilst planning my next secret scheme.
-Sometimes I ponder with sorrowful sorrow out the east window of my invisible subatomic submarine, dwelling on the glum fact that there are still parts of the world where evil has yet to proliferate. Places like Northern Canada, the Arctic and parts of Prague. This is why I so desperately want to form a foundation that sends young up and coming villains around the world to spread evil and awfulness where these virtues have yet to take root and pollute. A sort of Anti-Peace Corps, if you will. This is my ultimate dream. This, and rocket-powered rollerblades. I wonder which will come true first?
-Thinking of updating my evil laugh to more of a cackle, like bweh-heh-heh, or a chortle, such as bwee-hee-hee. On second thought, I hate these changes with a passion. You can never go wrong with a hearty, hateful bwah-ha-ha! It does a body good. The bad kind of good.
-Also never changing: my signature sign-off line. Succinct, direct, to the point and filled with bitter ire and B-12 terribleness.