Postman was late again this morning. Had to have the minions feed him his own entrails while fire ants devoured his terrified eyeballs. You'd think the depot would learn – that's the third one this month.
Fed the mutant piranhas. I don't think they appreciate the dog food, it's been making them look a bit peaky (the unexpected treat of fresh postman did perk them up a bit, though). Plus it's getting a bit expensive to keep feeding them so much - one of the drawbacks of their hideously mutated voracious appetite, I guess. May have to go for a different class of mutant. Maybe chinchillas. As long as they're really, really evil chinchillas.
My Impenetrable Lair of Ultimate Deptravity is a right state this morning. Glaxnor the Impervious came round last night. He'd been thwarted by Captain Pizazz and in record time too - he'd barely started his diabolical monologue before it was all over. He was feeling pretty down so we cracked open a few beers and, before we knew it, me, him and the minions were air-guitaring and air-drumming to Foo Fighters. Now there's double-handed axes, experimental ray guns and empty beer cans everywhere and someone seems to have melted my autographed Kings Of Leon poster. I may have to have one of the minions flayed alive as an example. That's sort of thing just isn't on – you should have more respect for other people's property.
Supposed to be meeting The Mighty Man for an apocalyptic showdown atop the bubbling lava of my secondary volcano lair but, to be honest, I'm not really in the mood. I'm still a bit hungover from last night. Might get one of the minions to rearrange – tomorrow would be better. Or Wednesday.
Tuesday
One of the minions keeps taking off his shoes and socks in the Sitting Room Of Despair and just leaving them lying around. Eurgh! May have to cut off all his toes and fashion them into a necklace to wear around my neck at all times. Maybe then he'll pick after himself a bit more.
Another phone call from the Royal Mail depot about their missing postman. I told them that they would rue the day they crossed me, laughed maniacally and hung up. Then I realised that they called me so presumably know who I am and where I live (well, they should know where I live otherwise I'm never going to get any packages). Hope this doesn't mean tomorrow's post will be late…
Met up with The Mighty Man for our climactic volcano-top battle. It was OK as climactic battles go – we traded a few insults, struggled precariously on the precipice and then he hurled me towards the bubbling lava whilst I performed one of my miracle death-defying escapes (which, as per usual, he failed to see thus believing me dead until the next time our paths cross). But it just felt to me like out hearts weren't really in it. My dread-filled speeches felt a little pat and his trademark roundhouse kick was half-hearted at best. Maybe it's time for us both to spend some time thwarting some other nemeses…
Continued...
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