Lair Sweet Lair

The Beautiful But Evil Space Princess knew something was wrong before she approached her lair.  She was almost sure she had left the spot light on over the piranha tank, but now it was turned off.  And it was strangely cold in the lair, usually kept at a comfortable 86 degrees (Hey, you get an evil lair, you keep it at any temperature you want.)

But more importantly no chirpy voice greeted her at the door.  No supercomputer-engineered-for-world-domination said “Welcome oh, dread one, how may thy trembling minions serve you.”

Because she wasn’t born yesterday or even the day before, the BBESP decided she could not go in through the front door.  (Yep, she could see the piranha tank from the front door.  It was right in front of the picture window.)

She couldn’t even use her secondary entrance, through the basement.

So she climbed the lookout tower by the lair.  By the time she reached the top, she’d torn her beautiful but evil black dress, and she was in a p*ssy mood, not improved by finding that some joker had relocated the piranhas right on top the tower, where she would have to climb in if she came in through the window.

Fortunately she had no intentions of going in.  Instead she swung from the tower onto the balcony of her beautiful but evil lair, and jimmied the bedroom door open.

As she’d expected none of her enemies had made it to the bedroom. They had doubtlessly looked in and run away screaming, since she had made every surface the sort of glowing pink that only an evil soul can withstand for very long.

This was good because it gave her the time needed to open the weapons cache under the bed.  This meant when she went out to face the world, she could shoot the bad guys through the head.

It took her a little longer to bring her computer up to snuff again, and then she had to get someone to put the piranhas in their proper tank once more.  Fortunately her minions had survived, having had the foresight of hiding in her bathroom, which is even more pink than her bedroom.

The minions fed the bad guys’ bodies to the piranhas.  And the BBESP could settle down in her armchair and write this post to communicate to her remote minions.

This is a slightly (very slightly) fictionalized account of my day.  With more explosions, deaths and piranhas.  But not markedly more stressful.

Somebody bring me a drink.

36 responses to “Lair Sweet Lair

  1. Grabs a large tumbler and reaches for the single malt. Who do you need us to kill, this time, Most Evil Mistress?

    • *Hands Pam the favorite Skull-Of-Enemy* I think she needs a LARGE drink, don’t you?

      • THAT ONE? He’s kind of small, isn’t he?

        • Fine. Bottle and straw it is. I thought you wanted to class up the joint, Miss Who Cares About Pants? 😀

        • So sorry, can’t send you a drink over the net, my replicator is down.
          So I’ll just have to drink another Hamilton’s Demarra rum and Jamaican ginger beer for you instead.
          My day was similar in attitudes, but it involved the electrical contractor saying “it all has to go, and why did you put the new drywall where I want to run my wires” while I am busy trying to learn to run a Bobcat to re-grade the front yard, so the porch does not become an ice rink (again). The first Beer Stein of rum & ginger has cut the edges, so the next may actually adjust my attitude.

          Thank, Sara and all, for having this place where I can cone to relax among intelligent and witty company.

          JPD

  2. Paul (Drak Bibliophile) Howard

    Chocolate?

    Beer?

    Whiskey?

  3. Had to go through Walmart today … saw they now have minion piñatas. That there is the kinda thing you can’t beat with a stick!

  4. I’ll help! I will send you my fat black Manx cat SugarBelly, and she will lick your arm!
    Ummmm….that may actually not do very much for you; it will, however, mean that she isn’t incessantly licking MY arm, which will be a nice change of pace.

    • Greebo BITES my elbow, so we’ll trade, shall we?

      • The Great and Terrible Bear(~15 pounds of long black cat fur with 3/4″ fangs at one end) prefers to go for the lower leg. Fortunately his teeth are so long he can’t open his mouth wide enough to get a good grip. Tips of his fangs are like the edge of a razor blade – you don’t know you’ve been cut until you see the blood dripping. His vet file has several remarks regarding claw capabilities.

  5. Instead she swung from the tower onto the balcony of her beautiful but evil lair, and jimmied the bedroom door open.

    Ooh! What kind of jimmies did she use?


    I like the rainbow ones, but the Halloween ones are seasonally appropriate.

  6. Reblogged this on The Arts Mechanical and commented:
    Sarah’s bad day. Oh the trials of selling the house.

  7. Oh, one of those days.

    *Produces a beer mug of considerable size and begins pouring the rum into it.*

    The nitroglycerin snowglobes didn’t get the ratfinks?

  8. I thought that shade of pink had been classified as a Weapon of Optical Destruction. Or am I just behind on my weapons catalogue reading?

  9. you are safe and unharmed … good
    your minions are safe and harmed … good
    the evil man (and woman) eating fish are safe and unharmed … good
    you tore your BBESP dress … uh o. somebodies are going to die.

  10. Was there something wrong with your computer?

  11. There is only one drink worthy of being served to a Beautiful but Evil Space Princess after a trying day:

  12. Technically, if she’s a Beautiful But Evil Space Princess with her own evil lair, wouldn’t that make the “bad guys” the good guys?

    • Paul (Drak Bibliophile) Howard

      Nope, “Bad Guys” invade. “Good Guys” wait to be invited in. [Wink]

        • We could’ve been anything that we wanted to be
          But don’t it make your heart glad
          That we decided, a fact we take pride in
          We became the best at being bad

          We could’ve been anything we wanted to be
          With all the talent we had
          No doubt about it, we whine and we pout it
          We’re the very best at being bad guys

          We’re rotten to the core
          And my congratulations no one likes you any more
          Bad guys, we’re the very worst
          Each of us contemptible, we’re criticized and cursed
          We made the big time, malicious and mad
          We’re the very best at being bad

          We could’ve been anything we wanted to be
          We took the easy way out
          With little training, we mastered complaining
          Manners seemed unnecessary
          We’re so rude, it’s almost scary

          We could’ve been anything that we wanted to be
          With all the talent we had
          With little practice, we made every black list
          We’re the very best at being bad
          We’re the very best at being bad
          We’re the very best at being bad