Jun. 8th, 2011

Minions, thank you for coming. I feel that I don't express often enough my gratitude for your service. When people see me, they see only Doktor Pauer, Criminal Genius and Scientific Uberlord. They never see the little people who stand behind me, and sometimes under me, toiling away to make my dire works possible. Gentlemen, I salute you. HEIL!

All right, enough with the nicey-nice. I'm in a very bad mood. The first being I catch sleeping on guard duty, or failing to keep the power cells charged, or not wearing antiseptic gloves at all times, will be rendered down for their complex proteins. It's bad enough that the Liberteers banished me and my Barbican of Barbarism to the Silurian Period. Well, technically the Llandovery Epoch, Aeronian stage I should think, judging from the spines on the fish. Never mind that. I shall not tax you with taxonomy. You may laugh. Excellent.

As I was saying: bad enough to be stranded in the distant past with only a handful of imbeciles, creations and robots for company. But now, curse the luck, it's my birthday. And there's nobody to make me my birthday dessert! Oh, why did I disintegrate you, Mummy?

Never mind that. Chin up! There is No Crying in Megalomania! We must simply make the best of it and forge ahead. I shall be making my own birthday dessert – with your help, of course. And I have decided that we shall make a nice Pots de Crème! Ah yes, the King of the Custards. Tonight we dine like kings! Well, I dine like a king. You'll serve like, shall we say, a king's servants. Which is something I should think any minion would aspire to. Yes.

Now then: minor challenge. Pots de Crème is a dessert with few ingredients, none of which we actually have. Or have any way of acquiring, given the fact that many of these items will not come into existence for another four hundred million years, -ish.

What's that, Monstro? Synthesize the molecules?! Have you gone mad?! To a greater degree than usual? This is THE BIRTHDAY DESSERT, you simple hunchback! Back to your pit! BACK I SAY!

We're synthesizing nothing, my minions. We're going to make a Pots de Crème for my birthday, gentlemen. It won't be easy. But Mad Science laughs at 'Easy'. It laughs mockingly, and steals Easy's lunch money, and clones Easy's puppy and crushes its skull again and again, night after night, until Easy begs for mercy. And then I smile coldly, for Easy is not my friend. Hard is my friend! Me, Hard and Mad Science are the best of chums, and the Universe is our oyster, and my birthday dessert is the pearl! HA! Ha HA!! ah HA HA HA HA ha!!

NOW we're cooking with EVIL!
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