Heh. I finally watched that "Ocean's 11" DVD I got for Christmas. Apparently it's about a group of so-called "professional" con-men who steal $160,000,000 from a Las Vegas casino.
Pathetic amateurs. That's nothing compared to the cunning bit of thievery *I* have planned for this week.
The Alliance®, ever diligent, wants to know "What does Evil Glenn plan to steal this week?" Assignment in hand, I knew what I had to do.
First, I called his office, but they wouldn't put me through, only take a message. Oh, well. That meant drastic action. So, I ran to the grocery store and got the special items I needed. Then, I ran by the cable company and got service reconnected. When I got back home, I grabbed the Fig Newtons and Diet Rite Cola, sat down in the rocking chair, and turn the TV on the History Channel. Just as I was about to start humming "Garry Owen," the doorbell rang. Drat the awful timing!
I opened the door. There stood Evil Glenn Reynolds®. "Got your message so I ... oooo, Fig Newtons!" He came in and sat down. "What's on your mind?"
I was stunned. "Um, we read your post about certain plans..." I said. "Heh. Not a problem," the Evil One responded. "It doesn't matter, because there's nothing you can do to stop it now." He must have read the look on my face, because he laughed and shook his head. "Let me show you, my good man." He reached into his black robe and pulled out his Universal Remote Control. He started punching buttons and everything went blank.
I'm not sure how long I was out, but when I came to, I was hearing a voice saying, "... and if you'll sign here, and here. Thank you, Professor Reynolds." The attorney turned to me and said, "If you'll just sign here as a witness, sir." Try as I might, I was unable to resist. I took the pen and signed. Evil Glenn Reynolds® looked at the paper. "'Basil' is your real name?" he asked. "What of it?" I asked. "Oh, nothing," he snorted. "Doesn't matter. Come with me."
We walked out the door, turned left and walked down a large hallway, then turned left again and came to a large metal door. He punched a button and the doors parted. Bright light rushed in. We walked through the opening and were suddenly standing on a large, sandy beach. I staggered out towards the water, then heard Evil Glenn Reynolds® laugh again. I turned around and saw that we had left a large building that was sunk into the side of a mountain. The ground shook, and I saw smoke belching from the top of the mountain.
"Feel priviledged. Not many see this place... and live." He laughed that evil laugh again.
"I don't understand. What's all this got to do with your plans for this week?" I asked. "That transaction I just completed gives me the last bit of money I need to finish my plan," he replied. He pulled out his Universal Remote Control, hit some numbers and spoke into it like a phone.
"Kenneth? Done. Great. How long? Wonderful. You will be rewarded. I keep my promises." He dialed another number. "Hey. It's me. Yeah. Let the Lewis family go." He dialed another number. "Kofi? Glenn. Check the account. Yes, now. Got it? Good. How long? Not good enough. I kept may part. Do it. Now. No, I'll wait." He hummed a tune. It sounded familiar. It was... "Yeah, Kofi, I'm here. Great. My love to Kojo."
He dialed another number. "Do it." And hung up. He cocked his head to one side and put his arms out as if expecting a hug. "What?" I said. He laughed, "With that money lining the right pockets, the U.N. now recognizes this island as a sovereign nation. And our foreign policy is about to make big news."
The ground shook again, and I looked to the top of the volcano. The smoke coming out was white. Odd, I thought. Then something emerged from the top. It was a rocket; the flames spewing angrily from the bottom of the booster as the missile moved up, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until it was out of sight.
"It's on its way. When they get there, we'll lay our claim. And my nemisis will rue this day!" he cackled. "You see, as a soverign nation, we are no longer subject to the Outer Space Treaty."
"What's that go to do with anything?" I asked. Evil Glenn Reynolds® said, "Ah, you see, it's actually called "Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, Including the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies." It then dawned on me what he had planned. "I haven't signed that treaty. Therefore, I am not subject to it. And when my rocket gets there in three days, and my minions step onto the moon and claim it in my name, it will be mine and no one can do anything about it."
The horror began to sink in. He pulled the Universal Remote Control and punched buttons. As all went black, I heard his parting words echoing in my head: "My nemisis, Frank J. will be unable to complete his plan. No nation would dare Nuke The Moon now! Frank J. cannot succeed!"
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