The Future Isn’t What It Used To Be
by Tom Laimer-Read
The schematics
of the Gloomsday Device lay on the metallic trestle table in front
of Dr Gloom, who moodily perused the intricate designs and florid
yet deadly embellishments on this seemingly innocuous
contraption.
He sighed
heavily.
He desperately
wanted to get out of the super villain business. It just didn’t
have the ‘zing!’ to it anymore that it had in the Good Old Bad Old
Days. Back then, people respected the gravity and the ingenuity of
your evil plans for world domination. Crowds shrieked in abject
terror and world leaders quaked and quivered at your feet, pleading
for mercy, forgiveness and a 10% cut of the profits.
Nowadays folk
didn’t give so much as a shrug or a twitch of a whisker when you
revealed your latest petrifying weapon or unveiled your newest
hideous plan to hold a group of spoilt brat politicians and
business leaders to ransom. The big corporations had come in and
priced the original bad guys out of the market with their boring
suits and ties, their mawkish marketing strategies and despicable
Dress Down Fridays. If wearing weekend clothes at work was seen as
something to aspire to now to make the rest of the dreadful, dreary
business tolerable, Dr Gloom wanted no part of this insidious game.
Where was the style? The panache? The tristesse de vivre? The super
villain industry was all but over.
Dr Gloom, real
name Norman Skillet, a retired dentist from Kiddiminster who had
overdosed on laughing gas and could never laugh again, was thinking
of jacking it all in for good and going back to the dental trade.
It was a lot more stable and reliable work, without the stresses
and pressures that came along with super villaining. There was just
no money in being overtly evil anymore, and there were also no
laughs, not that Dr Gloom could laugh, anyway. To be fair, he
didn’t laugh that much before his unfortunate transformation, so it
wasn’t that much of a stretch for him to assume his evil persona,
but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Now, now he
was not so sure what route to take.
Flaubert, the
disfigured, globular yet upbeat and infinitely loyal servant of Dr
Gloom, sloped up to the brooding figure to inform him of the latest
daily developments in his evil empire.
“So, good
morning, Sir,” slurped Flaubert with froglike lips. “There’s been a
general increase of evil in the market by around 3.7% this week.
Muggings, hold ups, burglary and general street crime has risen by
a moderate 4.4%, and people being nice to each other has dropped by
a considerable 13.6% net.”
“Oh, how
wonderful,” sighed Dr Gloom. “Flaubert?”
“Yes, master?
What is it?”
“Do you think
that there’s any point to all this... evil palaver?”
Flaubert
looked shocked at the suggestion.
“Of course, Dr
Gloom, Sir! It is imperative that we complete our work! But we
must!”
“Why,
Flaubert? Why bother? What does it all add up to, when all’s said
and done?”
“We have to
work, Master, otherwise, what’s the purpose of our endeavours?”
“That’s what
I’m trying to establish, Flaubert.”
“But that IS
our purpose... isn’t it?”
Flaubert
looked sternly at Dr Gloom, quite shaken by his suggestion. It was
Dr Gloom that gave him a reason to exist, had taken him in when no
other employer would due to his hideous deformities. Without him,
he would be very much alone in the wilderness.
“We must carry
on, Master. We’re evil. It’s what evil super villains and their
servants must do!”
Dr Gloom
surveyed his works and private army milling about on the floor of
his secret evil headquarters below him. He had built this empire up
from nothing, but now it all seemed so dull and tiresome to him.
Like all good super villains, Dr Gloom had loved and lost. She was
called Shirley, and was his former dental nurse. He had had a crush
on her like yesterday’s chop suey in the trash compactor, but it
was never meant to
by Tom Laimer-Read
The schematics
of the Gloomsday Device lay on the metallic trestle table in front
of Dr Gloom, who moodily perused the intricate designs and florid
yet deadly embellishments on this seemingly innocuous
contraption.
He sighed
heavily.
He desperately
wanted to get out of the super villain business. It just didn’t
have the ‘zing!’ to it anymore that it had in the Good Old Bad Old
Days. Back then, people respected the gravity and the ingenuity of
your evil plans for world domination. Crowds shrieked in abject
terror and world leaders quaked and quivered at your feet, pleading
for mercy, forgiveness and a 10% cut of the profits.
Nowadays folk
didn’t give so much as a shrug or a twitch of a whisker when you
revealed your latest petrifying weapon or unveiled your newest
hideous plan to hold a group of spoilt brat politicians and
business leaders to ransom. The big corporations had come in and
priced the original bad guys out of the market with their boring
suits and ties, their mawkish marketing strategies and despicable
Dress Down Fridays. If wearing weekend clothes at work was seen as
something to aspire to now to make the rest of the dreadful, dreary
business tolerable, Dr Gloom wanted no part of this insidious game.
Where was the style? The panache? The tristesse de vivre? The super
villain industry was all but over.
Dr Gloom, real
name Norman Skillet, a retired dentist from Kiddiminster who had
overdosed on laughing gas and could never laugh again, was thinking
of jacking it all in for good and going back to the dental trade.
It was a lot more stable and reliable work, without the stresses
and pressures that came along with super villaining. There was just
no money in being overtly evil anymore, and there were also no
laughs, not that Dr Gloom could laugh, anyway. To be fair, he
didn’t laugh that much before his unfortunate transformation, so it
wasn’t that much of a stretch for him to assume his evil persona,
but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Now, now he
was not so sure what route to take.
Flaubert, the
disfigured, globular yet upbeat and infinitely loyal servant of Dr
Gloom, sloped up to the brooding figure to inform him of the latest
daily developments in his evil empire.
“So, good
morning, Sir,” slurped Flaubert with froglike lips. “There’s been a
general increase of evil in the market by around 3.7% this week.
Muggings, hold ups, burglary and general street crime has risen by
a moderate 4.4%, and people being nice to each other has dropped by
a considerable 13.6% net.”
“Oh, how
wonderful,” sighed Dr Gloom. “Flaubert?”
“Yes, master?
What is it?”
“Do you think
that there’s any point to all this... evil palaver?”
Flaubert
looked shocked at the suggestion.
“Of course, Dr
Gloom, Sir! It is imperative that we complete our work! But we
must!”
“Why,
Flaubert? Why bother? What does it all add up to, when all’s said
and done?”
“We have to
work, Master, otherwise, what’s the purpose of our endeavours?”
“That’s what
I’m trying to establish, Flaubert.”
“But that IS
our purpose... isn’t it?”
Flaubert
looked sternly at Dr Gloom, quite shaken by his suggestion. It was
Dr Gloom that gave him a reason to exist, had taken him in when no
other employer would due to his hideous deformities. Without him,
he would be very much alone in the wilderness.
“We must carry
on, Master. We’re evil. It’s what evil super villains and their
servants must do!”
Dr Gloom
surveyed his works and private army milling about on the floor of
his secret evil headquarters below him. He had built this empire up
from nothing, but now it all seemed so dull and tiresome to him.
Like all good super villains, Dr Gloom had loved and lost. She was
called Shirley, and was his former dental nurse. He had had a crush
on her like yesterday’s chop suey in the trash compactor, but it
was never meant to
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