November
27, 2013
Dear
Diary,
It
has been well over a month since I last checked in but with good reason. I
wasn’t just lazing about eating ice cream and complaining to Caligula about my
sad lot in life. No. I have been quite the busy gal. You see, there has been a
mutiny among my ranks. A coup, if you can imagine such a thing. In short, that
blasted Annie tried to take over my job!
It
all started just after Halloween. I was saving up my diary entry until after
the annual party hopping—you know, that dreaded evening when I race from event
to event in order to spread myself out amongst the boys, lest one feels left
out or robbed of my wonderful presence. Just as I returned home with a crap ton
of juicy gossip about the villain community, I found that bitch standing on my
balcony, in my clothes, commanding my minions to do her biding, most of which
consisted of killing my Bart.
Let
me say that again so it has time to properly sink in.
She
was wearing MY clothes.
I
don’t give a flying flip about her trying to take over my empire. I don’t care
about her commanding my minions or trying to run my show. I don’t care that she
had Bart in a cage about to dip him in a vat of boiling oil. (Okay, maybe I
cared a little bit about that.) The point is the bitch had on my best outfit.
But
worse than that, she was wearing my fucking thongs!
Note
to self: Go shopping for all new clothes.
There is no telling what else she tried on while I was gone!
There
has never been a force on earth that could match the power of my anger when I
realized that cold stone bitch had squeezed her fat ass into my god damned good
underwear. And how did I know she had wedged her huge butt into my tiny thongs?
She showed me! When I confronted her on the balcony of my suite, she made a big
to-do about taking over then proceeded to flash me. And I don’t mean just a
quick lift and flutter, no. She raised the edge of her skirt and gave me quite
the show. Ugh, seeing her ass in my panties was like gazing upon a gallon of
cottage cheese compressed in plastic wrap then split up the middle with a piece
of floss. I won’t even go into her poorly trimmed recreational area. Seriously,
gals, if you’re going to do a little dance in your undies, consider some
landscaping first. I’m not saying shave it little girl bald, but if the fur is
creeping up your belly, you might want to invest in a pair of hedge clippers.
Note
to self: Buy new razors. Best to practice
what one preaches.
Anywho,
she claimed the flashing bit was a show of her feminine power. I think she just
has a thing for me. Or rather had a thing for me. And really, who can blame
her. But back to me kicking her ass to the moon and back. Literally.
I
don’t know what she thought would happen when I returned from my parties. I
guess she expected to make a show of her so called power and I would just drop
to one knee and beg for my life. As if! I knew exactly what would happen in
just such a scenario.
First
of all, my minions immediately stopped following her orders once they laid eyes
on me. And those eyes were so grateful to see momma come back to roost. As they
should be, considering each worker bee of mine is programmed over a three month
long indoctrination the likes of which would’ve made Reverend Jones weep with
jealousy. Within moments she went from all powerful bitch to revolting all by
her onesises. That should’ve been enough to make any mutinous traitor beg for
forgiveness, but no, she kept up the attitude, claiming that she didn’t need
minions to take over my territory. She could do it by her cleverness alone.
Especially since I had supposedly entrusted her with all of the secrets of my empire.
Pity
she didn’t know the first thing about my empire, or she would’ve known I have a
verbally activated security system in every section of my secret base, encoded
to my voice pattern alone, and activated by a separate word for each area. But
that’s just between you and me, dear diary.
Note
to self: Add code word to diary lock. And
a laser.
Once
I said the code word for my balcony security system, that bitch was well on her
way to being toast in seconds. A ten thousand volt jolt will do that to you.
But luckily for me, she survived! Glorious day! This meant I was able to
thoroughly enjoy punishing her further. And further. And much, much further. I
kicked her carcass right onto a rocket, then proceeded to kick her all the way
to my moon base and back.
So
that is how I have spent the better part of this last month or so. I took a
break once we got to the moon, and had myself a little well-earned vacation. I
had Dr. Luna keep the cow as alive as possible, so I could kick her carcass all
the way back home again. Luna is such a dear, if not a bit on the strange side.
But I suppose living on the moon can do that to a gal. She’s always smiling,
and not in a happy way. More like an eerie way. Bart says it’s a side effect of
the lack of gravity, something to do with warping the poor woman’s brain. I
must admit, I always feel quite relaxed once I return from the moon, especially
this time considering the pleasant company I kept along the way.
I
guess I should call all of that a lesson learned. That is the last time I trust
someone that I haven’t grown in a vat myself with the important things around
here. Thankfully my favored minion survived. I don’t think the others would’ve
really hurt him. Everyone loves Bart. As for finding a new right hand man, I
think it might be time to consider creating another minion, though he wouldn’t
be as wonderful as Bart. If I felt I could trust Caligula, I’d give him more
duties. Or some duties. But we all know he would just ignore them, just like he
ignores me.
Note
to self: Get Bart to draft plan for
growing a new minion. Surely he can do it cheaper than I did.
Ah
well, there is much to contemplate and much to do. I wonder if my shrink is
open for a session. I seriously need to unload.
Until
next time,
Sylvia Fowler
