139 - Stuporvillain


The hour of evil is finally at hand. Soon the fools that laughed at you will bow before your might or die by your sword. You don your wet cardboard armor and black trash bag cape. You give your best shot to a diabolical laugh, but the Thunderbird you drank isn't mixing too well with your Schlitz chaser, so instead you just throw up a little in your mouth.

You've staked out the perfect spot for your nefarious deeds: the PVC pipe that runs from the rear wall of the liquor store to the drainage canal out back. It's perfect because  of the canal, which your new drinking buddy Froggie told you is just a storm drain, but what the fuck does Froggie know; he's a horrible drunk. You're certain the canal feeds into the water supply for the entire city; you're judgement is better when you've had a few. The spot is also quite convenient because it's only six feet from the cardboard box where you sleep.

You pry open the access tube on the side and insert the funnel, which you found just laying around on a shelf inside the nearby auto parts store.

Finally, you bring out the evil mind-control formula: a half-empty bottle of Boone’s Farm.

You begin to mutter to yourself. “With this bottle of booze, I’ll taint the city’s water supply. Soon, everyone in town will be drunk, just like me!” You attempt another evil chuckle, this time you manage only a chaotic belch.

“Sammy, what the hell are you doing?” asks an exasperated voice from behind you.

You turn to see who would dare interrupt your evil plan. What you find is no surprise; you are face-to-face with your sworn nemesis, Officer Mason.

You waste no time putting Mason in his place. “I told you never to use that name!” you shout. “I am Doctor Bagman, and you’ll rue the day you crossed me, Officer Mason!”

“I remember,” Mason replies calmly, “and I also remember telling you if you raise your goddam voice to me like that again, Sammy, that I know all the best places in the city to hide dead bodies, especially the dead bodies of worthless drunks that nobody would even come looking for. Now what the hell are you doing with that bottle?”

You look at the bottle in your hand, then back to Mason. “The usual.”

Mason seems unconvinced. You quickly chug about half of the remaining of the liquid from inside the bottle.

“Stay out of trouble, Sammy,” Mason tells you before making his way back around the corner of the liquor store and disappearing from your view.

You consider the pathetic amount of beverage left in the bottle of Boone’s Farm decide evil can wait another day. You remove your cardboard armor and trash bag cape, then settle into your box while you polish off the bottle.

Eventually, you pass out. You dream sweet drunken dreams of world domination.