Super Mega Fantastic

"You'll never escape me, my pretty!" Eugene said to me as I was tied to a chair. I wanted to vomit. This is the sixth time he has said this to me this year.

"Eugene, I swear, if your idea of torture is tying me to a chair and acting as the world's most cliche villian, then you are absolutely a cruel, cold-hearted bastard."

"Stop calling me that! My name is Dr. Weasel!" Don't worry: if you're thinking he does actually resemble a weasel, you're very correct. You're right. You can go sleep at night now. Perhaps it was the way his eyes were dark rimmed and large, squeezing on his little nose that was red at the tip that made him look very weasel-like. Let's not forget an orthodontist's dream of a major overbite. Each tooth was placed incorrectly in his imperfect, smelly mouth. He needs to brush his teeth. Flossing wouldn't hurt either. Not only that, Eugene is a very small man with a slight slouch in posture. He is quick, but nothing that was jaw-dropping. I'm pretty sure middle schoolers in track could out run him. He is getting a little chubby. I'm very positive he makes his henchmen do all the work.

"Really? What kind of doctor are you?" I already know, but honestly I get so bored with these little meetings with him. This is a monthly thing. You would think he would get bored by now. Nope. Same ole Eugene. If he was going to annoy me with repetition, it was only fair if I do the same. I feel as though I am in Groundhog's Day, you know, the one with Bill Murray when the day just repeats over and over. Except everyone is in on it, time goes on, and they all are basically ripped out of comic books with epic heros and evil villians. Perhaps I'm just stuck in Hell or something, and this is my punishment for not donating to charity.

"A scientist!" This was his cue to go to his little lab set up and show me all these different colored liquids. Some were bubbling, others were steaming. It was all so very expected. This is the millionth time I had to hear his speech about his lab and what his ultimate life goal is: be the big boss in charge of Blimesburgh. Some children want to be doctors, firefighters, actors, or teachers. Obviously, Eugene didn't really get the memo.

"Hey, Eugene? Before you go on and tell me your entire plan and Mr. Leotard comes in after you reveal it all to save the day, may I ask a question? Did your parents love you? Oh, and also were you dropped on your head as a child?" Or face? I'm almost positive he got smashed in the face a few times.

"My name is Dr. Weasel!"

"So, Dr. Eugene Weasel? I don't know, it doesn't sound right."

"You insolent girl! I'll feed you to my weasels if you talk again, you bitch!" I've been fed to the weasels before. All they did was nibble on me a bit. Once I yelled, they cowarded. It was quite boring waiting in that pit for my hero to come and help me out of it. And he actually expects me to sleep with him or something. As if! I have standards! One of them stating not to date a man whose job requires spandex.

"Oh. No. Not the weasels. Oh. No. Where's Mr. Leotard when I need him most?" All this was said with a monotone voice. You would think Dr. Weasel would get the hint that I wasn't scared. No. He is as dumb as a weasel. Oh, now I understand why his name fits him so perfectly.

"He isn't going to save you now, princess! Your last lucky charm has worn out!"

"Okay, now that was lame." The window on the roof breaks as some crazy lunatic wearing a tight white, grey and light blue outfit comes flying in. "You're too early. I didn't get to hear Eugene's plan to overthrow the town." I frowned. I'm just glad this will be over soon.

"Pigeon!" Yeah, that's my hero's name. Not something cooler like Raven or Blackbird. Not even Seagull. Seagull would be much better than Pigeon. Pigeons are just mice of the skies while seagulls are flying rats. Everyone knows rats are more badass than mice. "Weasemen! Attack!" I yawned.

"Hey, Eugene, what time is it?" I asked him. He didn't respond, too consumed at his glory that it looked like Pigeon was being over powered by the Weasemen who were actually nibbling on him like a T-bone. "Earth to stupid, what time is it? I need to get up early tomorrow for a doctor's appointment." Still, no response. I sighed. I just decided to stay and watch Penguin overcome the troubles of ten Weasemen nibbling on him and knock them out. I hope they have good dental. From the looks of it, no, they don't. Why would you want to be a henchmen? Where are the benefits from that type of career? I'm pretty sure they aren't worth being humiliatingly beaten to death by a man dressed as an ugly pigeon. I would rather see Betty White naked with my parents present, watching her attempt to do a belly dance. I would rather go back and relive my high school years, which were in the eighties. A lot less embarrassing.

"No!" the villian cried.

"You know what would be a smart thing to do to avoid the humiliation of getting your ass kicked by a man dressed like a pigeon? Run away. Now would be good. You probably won't get far, but at least I wouldn't have to endure the sight of it and you two talking to each other in some form of an action-packed sonnet as you two dance."

"Your days of this foolery are limited, Dr. Weasel! Prepare to be pecked!"

"God, if you exist, could you tell me why you purposely have these two lunatics torture me? Did I make you mad? I'm sorry I cuss when I stub my toe. Perhaps you shouldn't make toes very sensitive?"

"You won't be able to stop me, Pigeon! My plan is already in action!"

"Is it because I don't go to church?"

"Soon my weasels will be flooding the streets, infecting everyone with their bite, transforming them into weasemen! They'll obey my every command! I'll rule Blimesburg once and for all!"

"I know I say God damn it a lot, but please don't take it personally. It's too much of a habit now."

"You'll never get away with it while I'm here!"

"You're still going to torture me, right? I thought so. Was it because I did it with Jimmy Fark in his truck after I graduated high school? Do you really expect me to actually get married or something? I'm not going to die a virgin. I hope you understand. Your fault, technically, for making sex really good."

They started to fight it out as a countdown begin. I tried saying the numbers in Spanish, but it's been awhile since I have even been around anything that wasn't entirely American. Pigeon, as what always happens, incapcitated Eugene and quickly tried to find a way to stop the cages that released the weasels. I'm pretty sure whatever infectious chemicals or solutions Eugene has conjured up is worthless. The worse I have ever gotten from one of his solutions was a rash. It didn't go away for two weeks! Quite uncomfortable. Pigeon was having quite a difficult time locating whatever button or switch that shuts down the entire operation, and it was apparent he was stressed. Eugene started to laugh some creepy chuckle as he was slowly getting up off from the ground.

"Fool. You really think I would make it that easy?"

"You've done it before," I told him. They ignored me. They were too in love with this scene to really pay any attention to the peanut gallery. I feel so neglected. Perhaps that's why they're like this? Lack of human interaction in their childhood?

Pigeon somehow messed with the wires underneath that probably disconnected the signal that was suppose to open the cages a second before the countdown sounded. From the monitors you can obviously see the day was saved. He chirped and his stupid horde of shitting pigeons came fluttering into the room. He chirped some little melody and they flew away, probably to deal with the weasles. As he was doing this, Eugene quickly skittered away. I don't know where the hell he went, but I'm sure I will see him next month for another session of this shit.

The lame superhero looked around for him, glowering once he realized the weasel escaped again. "Rats."

"I'm pretty sure you should say rodents instead of rats. It's more appropriate."

"Roxanne!" he said, quickly rushing over to free me from the chair. If only the villian was lame at tying notes. Unfortunately, he probably was a boy scout with many proudful badges from tying knots. If only they taught people skills, and perhaps reality. He freed me and I quickly stood up, rubbing my wrists. He ties them a bit too tightly. I'm too used to it to actually pay any mind to it. "Are you alright? Are you going to faint?"

"Back off. I'm fine. I was just sitting there bored as fuck." I began to walk a couple steps, feeling a bit stiff, and started to stretch. "What took you so long, Mr. Leotard?"

"Dr. Weasel is a tricky fellow. He moves his headquarters before I can track them down."

"That's probably because you wreck every headquarters he has had to make."

"The important thing is, you're safe and unharmed."

"Unharmed? Are you serious? I nearly wanted to bang my head against the floor from all this ridiculous shit going on! You're all insane! I'm hungry."

"Calm down." He put his hands on my face. I already know Pigeon has a crush on me. It's expected. I'm the mayor's daughter. I'm good for kidnapping and saving. It's not like I have an actual talent or anything, or a job. Hint: sarcasm. And since I'm the damsel in distress, Captain Spandex saves me and we are suppose to have this love connection or something. He is an attractive guy, don't get me wrong, but way too crazy for my taste. Also, he kind of ruins his attractive vibe dressed up in his get-up. "I'll bring you home and everything will be okay. You're probably stressed from this whole situation." I riped his hands off me.

"I'm fine. Just take me home."

"You don't have to stay strong anymore, Roxanne."

"Now, please." He grabbed a hold of my waist and started to fly up in the air, heading to my apartment. This is the only time I actually enjoy these monthly visits. Flying is the one thing I will compliment Pigeon knows how to do pretty well. At first, he was rocky and it was scary as Hell. Even though he gets me to be pressed up against him in intimate ways, it is still a wonderful experience. Sometimes I just wished I could fly, but then I would have to wear spandex and instantly change my mind. For now, this is the only thing I can look forward to in my life, sadly. Although I work at an art museum here, as a director, it doesn't do justice to this feeling.