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Start Of Part Three
Poopface sat in his evil rocking chair, reading Evil Person's Monthly magazine
and
considering what evil thing he should do next. Evilly, of course. Some people just
thought that he was putting it all on, pretending to be evil in public, and going home
to his wife and three children, and going to church every Sunday. But in reality,
Poopface was truly evil. Not just evil, but Evil, with a capital E. The only time he
ever went to church was to burn it down, or steal from the collection plate (only truly
Evil people consider doing that; those who put it on think it's below them. For more
information on the intricacies of Evilness, buy the Handbook to Evil by B. L. Zebub,
or subscribe to Evil Person's Monthly). His Evilness was probably down to his
childhood, from being picked on by everyone for his two disabilities; his silly name,
and the fact that he was the only kid in his school to speak with a line underneath his
voice. A lot of evil is directly attributable to childhood insecurity, you know. Hitler
was picked on for his silly hair and moustache in school.
Poopface never stopped marvelling at the fact that the spectacularly stupid and bovine
Mr Beef the cow-man allowed Poopface to execute his Evil machinations from his
living room-cum-barn. He turned to the classified ads section of Evil Person's
Monthly and looked to see if anyone was selling off a hi-tech crime headquarters at a
knock-down price, when there was a knock at the door. Pulling on his evil slippers, he
got up and answered it.
"Hello, Poopface," said Primrose. "We're onto your evil and dastardly plan!"
"Which one?"
"Um, the missing people" Primrose replied, slightly thrown off track "How many evil
and dastardly plans do you have?"
"I lose count, but I think it's about forty five, maybe fifty." Poopface stepped back
and opened the door further. "Won't you come on in, young people?"
Primrose and pals stepped inside, and made themselves comfortable.
"Excuse me for a minute or two, but I have some pressing engagements, I'll be right
back." said Poopface, conveniently allowing Primrose and her pals some time to talk,
and possibly escape.
"He seems quite a cordial host, for such an evil man." said Kirsty.
"I expect he's up to something..."
"Quite a nice man, I thought" said Mr Furry quietly, making himself comfortable on
top of Poopface's copy of Evil Person's Monthly.
"When he gets back, you hold him and I'll beat his brains out with his own wicker
table." said Charlie, getting into position behind the door.
"No, no, no," Primrose said in a kind and humanitarian way, "If we do that, we'll be
as evil as him! We have to use our wits and intelligence to overcome him."
"That's us done for, then." Charlie said, dejected.
"It isn't as if he's holding us here against our will." Kirsty pointed out, "I mean, we
came here on our own, and he's left the front door unlocked, so why are we plotting how
to escape?"
"We're not, Charlie is. I'm plotting, er, thinking, of how to talk him out of his ever
descending and self-destructive spiral of evil, which will eventually and inevitably
lead to his own downfall and cause him to become more upset and disillusioned with
society." said Primrose, and paused for breath. "It's for his own good!"
"Oh, okay."
"Well, I say he's still a git, and we should finish him now!"
"Pleasant place, this pit of evil"
"Mixed feelings in the little band of do-gooders?" Poopface made a dramatic return to
the scene. "So, what is it to be? Talking me round to the ways of good, beating me
senseless, or me watching you all suffer? It's your decision..."
"Suffering"
"I prefer the beating you senseless option, myself." said Charlie, and picked up
Poopface's own wicker table.
"Sit down, Mr Poopface, and we can talk."
"Not bleedin' likely" said Poopface, and promptly tied Primrose and her pals up in
chains.
Too soon for an End Of Part Three
Part Three hasn't ended yet, so there's no Start Of Part Four
"What do you want with us, Poopface?" Kirsty asked.
"Pardon?" Poopface looked confused, "I didn't understand that, it may have
something to do with the peculiar typeface."
"She said 'What do you want with us, Poopface?', and I would like to add to that my
own question," Primrose paused dramatically again, and tried to get another bit of
liquorice out of her pocket using just her mouth (don't forget they've been tied up), "I
would like to know, why are you performing these Evil deeds?"
"Why not?" Poopface stuck a finger in his ear and mumbled something underneath
his breath, and then said, "It isn't actually me who's responsible for these Mysterious
disappearances, but if you'd like to think that you've progressed in your search, I'll be
willing to pretend that it is me."
"Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary." said Primrose, "Thanks all the same."
"While death and bloodshed continue to exist, I shall live on" Mr Furry whispered.
"Are you being Controlled by a more powerful force, a force that is so very Evil that
it makes your Evilness seem pale in comparison, Mr Poopface?"
"Er, no."
"Then why did you stick your finger in your ear?" Primrose shifted position, and at
the same time managed to surreptitiously slip out of the chains that were holding her
in the chair. Meanwhile, Poopface stuck his finger in his ear again, and nodded.
"Excuse me, I have another pressing engagement elsewhere."
"Oh damn," said Charlie, "I can't struggle out of my chains."
"Not to worry," Primrose said, standing up, "I already have." She then proceeded to
untie her pals, and they escaped from Poopface's Evil lair in Mr Beef the cow-man's
living room.
Across town, Mr Cabbage the greengrocer arrived home.
"Hi honey, I'm home!" he called out, hanging his hat and coat on the hatstand. He
walked into the kitchen, where a pot was on the stove, bubbling away to itself
happily. His wife, the adorable Mrs Cabbage, was standing in the corner, looking
shorter than usual.
"What's for dinner?" Mr Cabbage asked. Mrs Cabbage stepped forward, and lifted the
lid off of the pot on the stove with her three-fingered hand.
"Boiled intestines of Krrrrrrrrrrrrrrshmmmkk." she said.
"What's Krrrrrrrrrrrrrrshmmmkk?"
"A snail-like animal on my homeworld of Shmahahahahaha."
Mr Cabbage looked down at his shorter-than-usual wife, and noticed that her skin
seemed slightly different.
"Your skin would appear to be grey, my dear." he observed. "And your eyes, they're
much larger, and almond shaped. And your head is more bulbous and much much
greyer than it was last night."
In a fancy-looking high tech room on their mothership, a crowd of short grey men
with bulbous heads and large eyes were watching Mr Cabbage on a big screen.
"One of the humans has noticed a difference between our people and his own." said
one of them.
"We have been detected, we must proceed immediately to the second phase of our
plan!" said a second short grey man. A third grey man ran quickly to a big bank of
computers with flashing lights and tape reels, and pushed the buttons, which made
funny bleep-bloop noises. Down below in the still-nameless mediaeval city, several
dozen more people vanished, to be replaced by the grey people. One of the people
who vanished was Kirsty.
"Thank god for that" said Charlie, "I thought she'd never go away."
End Of Part Three
Part Four!!!
Magazine for evil people, out twelve times a year, available at
all good newsagents
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