Spiderdom and the Quest for the Sky Cat

Dr. Dementia frowned. Why wasn’t it working? He held his tongue between his teeth and dislodged a couple of wires that seemed faulty. The bulb flickered on then turned off. He forgot about his tongue and gritted his teeth. “Damn,” he cursed.

“Oh yes! The evil Doctor at work!” Dr. Gloom yelled. Dom jumped; he didn’t realize Gloom was there.

The obscure camera flashed seven or eight times. “I was thinking, Dr. D.” Gloom said nonchalantly, leaning against the table Dementia was working at. “Maybe we should expand our target audience here. How about action figures? I know a guy. He could probably get hold of a David Tennant one and change the outfit and the hair, add the goggles and a couple of evil guns and stuff, and we have a quality toy that we could sell at insane prices and buy you a better HQ.”

Dr. Dementia sighed. “Listen, Gloom. I’m really busy here, and I need to get this finished before next Friday. I’m working on a schedule here, and I don’t need any of your marketing ideas to pull me off track.” There was a short pause. “But wouldn’t it be even better if there was a little red button in my hand and when you press it, it says something evil?” he added quickly.

Dr. Gloom grinned. “Yeah. We can have a cycle, and then it breaks, and all you hear is your evil laugh and you can’t turn it off because the battery is encased inside. That would be so evil.”

“No, it wouldn’t be evil. It would be stupid. But what would be evil was that if it jams and it keeps doing my evil laugh over and over again and the battery is encased inside so you can’t get it out or stop it.” Dr. Dementia rolled his eyes, as if this was obvious.

“But that’s exactly what I–” Dr. Gloom started, but was cut off by Dom kicking him in the shin. He gave Gloom a meaningful look and pressed his lips together. “I get it,” he mouthed. “I’m going to go and find that guy,” he told Dementia, before leaving the room. At the door, he gave Dom the thumbs up.

Dom rolled his eyes. “Holy spiders,” he mumbled to himself.

“What did you just say?” Dementia asked, threading a wire onto a needle.

“What are you doing?” Dom countered quickly.

“Sewing this wire into this hole. It won’t go in otherwise. Now what did you say? Something about spiders.”

“No, I said fires. Holy fires. It’s my new thing.” Dom said.

“Oh.” A few seconds of silence followed. “Maybe a fire would be easier than a doomsday device. But that isn’t quite as memorable, is it?”

“Er, no. Personally, I think you should keep on going with this idea.”

Dementia nodded. “Yes. I will.” More silence, this time four or five minutes of it. “Well, I think I’m going to go for something to eat. Stay here and watch my project, will you? I know you will, because you have nothing else better to do.” He stood up and walked out of the room importantly. Dom pulled a face.

“How do you know I have nothing else better to do?” he asked the closed door. “And yes, I will watch your project. Maybe change a few wires or something? You OK with that? Say nothing if you are!”

Nothing happened. Dom turned to Matthew’s mess of wires and inspected it carefully. Good thing he’d managed to get his hands on it, because Matt was learning, and fast. This one could possibly have worked. Dom still didn’t know exactly why he put a bulb on the top, but that was up to his “devious” brain. He pulled out a few wires and stuffed them back in somewhere else, sighing deeply and melodramatically.

Sometimes Dom wondered why his old friend was so set on being an evil genius, and sometimes he didn’t care. But right now, he wanted to know what had made him so inclined towards the path of darkness. Dom remembered when they were kids and they used to bake mud pies—literally bake them—in the kitchen and then throw them at each other when the worst came to the worst. He heard footsteps and sat back down in his seat immediately. Dr. Gloom walked into the room.

“Where’s Matthew?” he asked.

“Out getting food,” Dom replied.

“Aha.”

More silence. Jeez, this was getting a bit much. So Dom started singing, some pathetic crap about chance at his side and not being able to wait and things being so far so great. Dr. Dementia walked back into the room, throwing something at Dom. It hit him neatly on the head. A sandwich. Dom grinned. So he wasn’t that evil, big deal. He was still evil enough to want to kill everyone.

“People,” Matt said, waltzing over to the desk and pushing aside his world domination gizmos. Everyone’s mouth dropped open. Some tuna salad even fell out of Dom’s mouth. Dr. Dementia never sidelined his projects. Ever. “People, while I was out buying food, I found the most incredible thing. There is a key to eternal life!”

“Whoa.” Dr. Gloom said. “Cool.”

“More than cool. Evil. Deliciously so. It’s called the Sky Cat.”

Dom snorted into his bread. “The Sky Cat? How stupid can you get? Are you kidding me?”

Dr. Dementia stared at him until he stopped mumbling. “Yes, the Sky Cat. It seems a bit corny, but the legends say that if you shave the Sky Cat of its fur and wear it for three days, you will never die. And that is why we’re going on a quest to find it!”

“Holy fires,” Dom practically yelled. “This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had in your life, no offense meant.”

Dr. Dementia narrowed his eyes. He turned to the desk again, picked up the mass of wires on it, jammed something into a socket and jabbed Dom in the arm with a wire. He collapsed on the floor in a twitching heap.

“Now that, Dr. Gloom, is evil. Come on, I need to go stock up on pasta for our journey.” Dr. Dementia said, smirking. He giggled and prodded Dom in the side before walking out of the room, Dr. Gloom following hurriedly in his wake.