Marlena won. Even in the retelling of this story I can scarcely believe it. Apparently, most of the girls at Farding wear boys’ briefs. So do a lot of the boys. So they all voted for her. In fact, I only received thirty-five votes—four from my campaign team, thirty from me (that’s all I had time to fill out), and one from that kid with the fish on his head. Apparently he really likes it. As runner-up, I was given the position of vice president. Imagine, Vordak the Incomprehensible— Malevolent Master of Evil—second in command to a seventh grader! So long, Career Day. Good-bye, demise of Commander Virtue. In all my years of Supervillainy I had never been this depressed and downtrodden. I had lost my best chance to dispose of my arch-nemesis and I would likely never feel joy again.
The End
“Wait a minute! Back in the beginning of the book you were sitting there all happy and confident and stuff waiting for Commander Virtue to make his Career Day speech.”
And?
“And I paid for the book so I want to hear the rest of the story!”
Really.
“Yes, REALLY!”
Then ask politely.
“Will you PLEASE tell the rest of your story?”
MORE politely.
“Will you PRETTY PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE tell the rest of your story?”
That was pathetic. Let me give you a bit of advice—if you ever hope to Rule the World yourself, you can’t go around being all wimpy and polite like that. Have you ever heard ME be polite?
“No. But you’ve never Ruled the World, either.”
BUT I SOON SHALL! And that little remark just reserved you a spot at the front of the piranha-tank line! Now, grab a pen and paper and write “I am undeserving of the pleasure of reading Vordak’s remarkable writings” fifty thousand times. Come back when you finish and I will continue the story.
CHAPTER EIGHT
As it turns out, there is a little-known rule that says the class vice president (ME!) takes over as class president if the current president acts in a manner unbefitting the position.
Well, who (ME!) would have thought that keeping a family of rabid weasels in your locker would be considered an act unbefitting the position of president?
And who (ME!) would have put them there in the first place?
And just who on earth Myron H.—but I told him to do it!) would have slipped a note under Principal Combover’s door telling him to look in Lurchburger’s locker?
Lurchburger was out and I was in! THE CLASS PRESIDENCY OF FREDERICK FARDING JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL WAS MINE! MUAHAHAHAHA!!!
I couldn’t wait to begin flaunting my newfound power, so the next day I delivered the following letter to Combover:
Okay, so apparently I didn’t have quite the level of power I thought I did. Which is to say I didn’t have any power at all. As it turns out, being the class president is actually a big pain in the hindquarters. I had to run the student council meetings, which typically centered around important issues such as whether to serve oatmeal or chocolate chip cookies at the orchestra recital. And if I got into an argument with another member of the student council, I didn’t even have the option of activating a trapdoor beneath their chair and dropping them into a vat of molten titanium. Honestly, I don’t see how they get anything done around here.
That colossal creep Combover rejected all but one of my demands. I could not erect a statue of myself anywhere in the school. Or a bust on a pedestal. Or even a plaque, certificate, or ribbon. I was told the only place I could display personal items was inside my locker, but, as you can see on the next page, it was already full.
On the bright side, he did think Career Day was a good idea. I received the go-ahead to schedule any parents with non-boa-constrictor-related jobs to come in and speak to the school every fourth Tuesday … beginning the following week! Now it was just a matter of inviting the good Commander.
I knew getting Virtue to flaunt himself before an auditorium full of adoring students wouldn’t be difficult, but I was surprised when his acceptance letter showed up at the school that same day, before he had even been invited. He must have delivered it himself. I have no idea how he even knew we were having an assembly. He must have Career Day–sensing equipment of some sort in that highfalutin headquarters of his. I wish I had known about this years ago—I could have saved the time I spent painstakingly plotting his capture and just hung a career day sign over the door to my crocodile pit.
Can you believe this guy? Have you ever heard someone so full of himself? I mean … “glorious”?
“Wasn’t the introduction of your first book called ‘Glorious Me’?”
Of course it was! What does that have to do with what I’m talking about here? Focus! The important thing is he would be here on Tuesday and, despite his inflated opinion of himself, it would be the last Career Day that leotard-wearing lamebrain would ever experience! MUAHAHAHAHA!!!
Back at the lair, it was yet another unsuccessful day of freeze-ray testing! I had given that unproductive pigeonhead of a professor far more chances than he deserved. I usually only give one. Sometimes, less than that. In fact, I’ve been known to assign a task to a henchman or minion and then lower him into a vat of boiling cream cheese before he even has the chance to complete it. It keeps the rest of them on their toes.
This time, I didn’t bother to enter the laboratory. The sound of Cranium sobbing on the other side of the door told me all I needed to know about his continuing failure. I just slipped the note under the door.
My patience had run out for the unproductive professor and his freeze-ray fiascos, so I hooked him up to my diabolically clever yet extremely slow-acting death trap—Piranha Tank Version. I handed him the freeze ray, pulled the start lever, and left the room. As he was slowly lowered headfirst into that tank of ill-tempered fish, one of two things would happen. If he could get the ray to work in time, he would be able to save himself. If so, I would have a Fantastically Frigid Freeze Ray that actually froze things, and my EVIL PLAN for taking over the world would be back on course. If he couldn’t get it to function properly, I would have one less incompetent Evil Scientist to worry about. Sure, I would have to hold off on my planetary-takeover plan for a few weeks, but it would be worth the delay to rid myself of that sorry excuse for a supergenius. Either way was fine with me at this point.
When I say slow-acting death trap, I mean it. I passed the time by sending out invitations to the other parents who were chosen to attend Career Day. I also played a few hundred more rounds of Superhero Shin Kick. And then it was time to check in on Professor Cranium.
ZOUNDS! He had done it!
CHAPTER NINE
I used my Villainous Voice Synthesizer to disguise my voice and call in sick yesterday. I originally grabbed my Villainously Vulgar Voice Synthesizer by mistake, but, luckily, Miss Fnarbarbler screamed and slammed the phone down before I had a chance to say who was calling.
With Commander Virtue’s Career Day Comeuppance all set for the next day, I required time to prepare my Dreaded Dadbot. I had a number of robot types from which to choose and decided to go with my HAND-2000V Highly Advanced Noseless Destructobot.
Of course, my Dadbot couldn’t show up at school looking like that. It would need a disguise that would allow it to blend in with the other parents without raising suspicion. Fortunately, my dad had left a box of his old clothes sitting on a shelf in the basement.
I also needed the Fantastical Freeze Ray ready by tomorrow. Now that Cranium had finally gotten it to work, it was simply a matter of making it powerful enough to freeze Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg. He seemed much more at ease since his piranha-tank breakthrough and was moving forward with the confidence and determination of a true Evil Genius. Just so he knew all his good work wasn’t going unnoticed, I made sure to call him a worthless wormbrain, a dimwitted dunce, and a chimp-faced chowderhead several times before I left his laboratory.
CHAPTER TEN
Which brings us up to date, back in the auditorium. Perhaps n
ow that you know what I went through to get to this point, you can truly appreciate what you are about to witness.
“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that last part?”
I said “you can truly appreciate—”
“No, I mean starting witOooh, that’s not good with where you pulled the tuna over that kid’s head.”
WHAT?! That was seventy-nine pages ago! You haven’t been paying attention?! Why, you little …
“Hey! Relax! I was kidding. Commander Virtue is right— you can’t take a joke.”
You know Commander Virtue?!
“Nah. I saw it on his blog.”
Oh. So, anyway, here I sit, ready to witness the most terrifyingly tumultuous Tuesday the world has ever known! Cranium worked through the night and was able to complete the freeze ray, so I have decided to make this the MOST MISERABLY MOMENTOUS DAY IN THE MEMORY OF MANKIND! In the course of the next few hours I shall:
1. Defeat Commander Virtue!
2. Retrieve the balsoid coil and return to a younger, stronger, more vibrant adult version of myself!
3. Turn my Fantastically Frigid Freeze Ray upon humanity and take command of the planet!
4. Watch my Toy Story 3 DVD (time permitting)!
In honor of this delightfully diabolical day, I have decided to record the forthcoming evil events live, as they happen. No other method would do my maniacal magnificence justice. At this very moment I am seated in the front row, notebook in hand, awaiting the Career Day speech of Commander Virtue himself.
My original plan was to sit way in back, behind Lars Widebritches, so Virtue wouldn’t see me and be tipped off that something was up. But earlier in the day, he unexpectedly passed right by me in the hallway and didn’t even seem to notice me. Yes, it’s been a few years, and sure, my current stature is a bit unremarkable, but still, I am Vordak the Incomprehensible. I must admit, his snub hurt. However, since he didn’t recognize me, I decided to sit right up front so that, when my Dadbot finishes with him, I can taunt him in a supremely Supervillainous manner and let him know exactly who was responsible for his ultimate demise! MUAHAHAHAHA!!!
Besides, Benny Yoshida was sitting behind Widebritches. My little show-and-tell friend had become queasy after scarfing Yoshida down in science class that day and threw him up on the way home from school. And this is the same little show-and-tell friend that counts sewer water and pond scum among his favorite treats.
Ingmar’s dad spoke already, and he sounded like your typical fireman—“Don’t play with matches. Check the batteries in your smoke detector. Don’t deep-fry an eel over forty-eight inches long on the kitchen stove. Yada, yada, yada.” Zounds, for a guy who carries an ax around with him all day, he sure seems to have something against the destruction of property.
Things are moving right along. Tuvier just introduced my Dreaded Dadbot. I need this to go off without a hitch, so I programmed his speech myself.
So far, so good!
Hey, I tried to write a speech about accounting, but it was just too boring. So I threw in a few things about myself to spice things up a bit. The students seem very impressed. Anyway, he’s wrapping up now, so Virtue will be on soon.
Well, that went rather well, if I do say so myself. And I do. So it did. Best of all, no one suspects a thing, least of all the cretinous Commander. He looked directly at me numerous times during my Dadbot’s speech and still nothing. Not so much as a flinch or a furrowed brow. And now he is approaching the podium! A life free of Commander Virtue is within my grasp at last! I am so excited I feel as though I might burst! I really should have used the restroom before I sat down.
My Dreaded Dadbot is programmed to attack Virtue the first time he utters the word JUSTICE. And he typically utters it two or three times per sentence, so this shouldn’t take very long. Yes! It appears that square-jawed scumball is ready to begin!
AT LONG LAST I HAVE DONE IT! Virtue is a pathetic, quivering mass, and the boos and cupcakes should come raining down upon him at any moment! I … wait a minute. Why is he smoking like that? And what is that purple liquid leaking out of his nostrils? No! This cannot be! That isn’t Virtue at all—it’s a robot!
Well, that explains why he didn’t recognize me. What a rotten thing to do—sending a robot to school disguised as a human. And now there appears to be something happening at the far end of the stage. Mrs. Tuvier is … unscrewing her own head?! That’s not part of my plan—nor is it something I would recommend. She’s going to …
GREAT GASSY GOBLINS! Mrs. Tuvier is actually Commander Virtue! No wonder she graded so hard! And, now that I think about it, Tuvier is simply Virtue spelled sideways! I should have seen this coming a mile away.
As I had planned, the stage is being bombarded with boos and cupcake projectiles. This is unfortunate for a couple of reasons:
1. They are being directed at my Dadbot.
2. When I baked the cupcakes, I used cement powder instead of flour—what can I say? I thought they were going to be hurled at Commander Virtue.
But all is not lost. Things can still go according to my EVIL PLAN. I just need the real Virtue to say the word justice.
Justness? Did he say “justness”? After decades of having to listen to that self-centered superstiff drone on about “JUSTICE this” and “JUSTICE that,” did I really just hear him say “JUSTNESS”?! Now Virtue is moving across the stage toward my Dreaded Dadbot, and it’s just standing there, motionless! He’s lifting it over his head and twirling it around and now it looks like he’s going to … Oooh, that’s not good….
Ack! What self-respecting Superhero changes his most beloved heroic utterance this late in his career? For the love of Fragnor, will his luck never run out? I had best beat a hasty retreat back to my lair amid all the confusion. It’s only a matter of time before … Wait another minute! Now Principal Combover is unscrewing his head! I never figured Combover as being the sharpest knife in the drawer, but this still seems a bit …
It’s Professor Cranium! And he has the Fantastically Frigid Freeze Ray! The day will yet be mine! Not even Commander Virtue can withstand my remarkable ray’s icy onslaught. He’s closing in on Virtue. Good thinking, Cranium. You don’t want to risk missing your target. Okay, Cranium, that’s close enough! Cranium, you’re getting too close. Cranium, any closer and you might as well just hand him the darn freeze ray! Cranium, you just handed him the darn freeze ray!
That backstabbing brainiac has now moved over to the podium and he’s saying something to the students. He says he is tired of being treated poorly by evildoers like Vordak the Incomprehensible and has decided he wants to use his brain’s frontal, temporal, AND occipital lobes for good.
And to think, just last week I got him a new iPad.
Now I have no choice but to flee.
Uh-oh! Commander Virtue has spotted me! He’s rushing over! He has me in his infernal grasp and is hauling me back up onto the stage. And now he is about to remove my helmet! You are probably wondering how I am still able to write.
Ha! I told Myron H. I would give him a brandnew industrial-strength label maker if he wore my spare costume to the assembly. That’s me, disguised as Myron H., making my way to the exit. In all the confusion, no one noticed me leave.
If my writing seems a bit hurried at this point it’s because I am in the process of running back home to my lair. My foolproof EVIL PLAN to rid the world of Commander Virtue has failed, even though I specifically included the word foolproof in the plan’s name. My EVIL PLAN to conquer the planet using my Fantastically Frigid Freeze Ray has also failed, which is a bit more understandable since I never declared that one to be foolproof. But at least I still have good old Evil Plan 1794, where I retrieve the balsoid coil from the school kitchen using my science-fair matter transporter. After what just happened, I obviously can’t show my face in school again, so I may as well grab the coil, repair my Abominable Age-Reduction Ray, and return to adulthood to plot my revenge—right after SpongeBob. All right—time to stop writing so I can con
centrate on running.
Okay, I’m back safe and sound deep within the bowels of my underground lair. It’s time to retrieve the balsoid coil, and I have decided to use the video capabilities of my Vordak Orb, or VORB, to record the event. That way, future generations of Supervillains will have the opportunity to witness my one-of-a-kind wonderfulness in action.
“Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t that the same VORB that was in your Dadbot?”
I have two. I’m sending this one through the matter transporter as we speak. When it arrives in the school kitchen, it will position itself to properly capture my arrival on video.
Obviously, that means the VORB isn’t here at the lair to record my departure. That task now falls to Little Vince Sminion and his cell-phone camera. Did I mention that the Sminion brothers work for me full-time now? As it turns out, they are both over eighteen and thus perfectly legal henchman material. I’ll have Little Vince take a few pictures as I enter the transporter pod so there is an accurate record of my departure for any Hollywood types who I allow to create a film of my life.
Rule the School Page 6