Friday, April 4, 2008


Josiah was distraught. Not only had he failed with Cyprus, twice, but now his failure had discouraged him from carrying out his evil plan. He just couldn’t concentrate, try as he might.

“Damn that woman! I wish I knew what she were thinking, like she knows what I’m thinking. I really ought to find a way to stop that,” he said to himself. “No, no. She’s out of your life now, Josiah. Move on. Begin the evil plan. Yes. The evil plan! Sublimate your anger into planning ability!”

He set to work once more, but he was shortly interrupted by his secretary, who entered the room looking nervous – Josiah was notorious for shooting the messenger, both literally and figuratively. The last person to give him bad news was still decaying on the floor of Josiah’s office.

“Mr. Malum, moments ago your scouts spotted Jeannine, Bill and John – now alive – leaving the Underworld. Mischa was not with them. We have reason to believe he was found out and killed, probably because of his gross ineptitude” she said.

“That’s a shame,” said Josiah insincerely. “So! John is back, is he? Well, I can’t very well begin my evil plan with him still around. He’ll have to be dealt with. Brutally.”

Josiah halted his evil plan – again – and began contriving new ways to neutralize John. There was some difficulty involved; after all, if a man comes back from the dead, he’s obviously a pretty tough person to get rid of. Josiah lit a cigarette to help him think, and just as he was raising it to his mouth, the idea came to him.

“Of course! I’ll just kill him myself!” said Josiah. “It worked for Sanchez and Shamus; why wouldn’t it work here? Yes! It’s brilliant! Hades never brings people back to life more than once, I’m assuming.”

And with that, Josiah left his office, getting into his private helicopter. He nodded to the pilot, putting a fresh pack of cigarettes into his cup holder.

“Take me to the home of John Morgan,” he instructed. “There’s going to be an unpleasant little surprise waiting for him when he gets there: me! I mean, I. I almost disregarded the rules of predicate nominative there. That would’ve been embarrassing.”

The pilot nodded, and they were off. Josiah was much happier now, having practically forgotten about Cyprus altogether.

Unbeknownst to the Secretary of Evil, however, the metal endoskeleton he’d had implanted was more than just a metal endoskeleton: it was also a tracking device. Someone was listening to him all the while.

Dr. Doctor Graham, the man whom Josiah had turned down for the assistant job right before he’d hired Cyprus, had sworn revenge on Josiah Malum for rejecting his application. He’d concocted a number of elaborate schemes, finally settling on one when he heard that Josiah was in a coma.

He had managed to sneak into the hospital and perform the complicated bone-replacement surgery without anybody’s noticing, and now he could keep constant tabs on the Secretary.

“That fool thinks he’s going to kill John? Not if I have anything to say about it!” said Doctor. “And I do have something to say about it.”

He got into his car, turned it on and accelerated to top speed, recklessly chasing after Josiah.

“I could’ve been his assistant. I could’ve been the most loyal, dedicated assistant ever. But now I am his enemy. And he shall feel my wrath!”

No comments: