He took one last look at everything. His

He took one last look at everything. His misty, olive green eyes scanned the area. The old ladder leading up to the treehouse. The ducks playing in the lake. Everything. What he

would miss most was the wraparound porch on the old plantation home, but what was done couldn't be undone. He lit the match and tossed it on the trickle of gasoline along the floor

and heard most satisfying "whump". He walked slowly for the dock, settled into the old boat, and rowed slowly away, watching the glow of the fire on the Spanish moss. Today was

Hellfire Day he thought. As he rowed into the gulf, towards his secret island the jungle canopy lit up with streams of napalm. He grinned with hate, now they

must have just hit a weapons cache if they made an explosion that big. It is lucky that I get to relax on my secret island while these mooks kill gooks and vica versa.

I had animated the mooks by adding servomechanisms at their joints. It was a cheap way to train the troops. I had a mook as maid and cook too. Occasionally they'd go up in flames

and rainbows. Those were the gay ones; they were popular with single girls who thought having "a gay" was a required accessory in the post Sex And The City era. Luckily,

I'm a 21st-century guy and totally fine with that. The dates started to get expensive, though, when Blane insisted that "the man always pays," and I had to pay for all three of us.

To boot, Blane and his pals claimed to have a rare form of cancer, which could only be assuaged by the finest caviar served in edible Faberge eggs. How could men be so bold as to

refuse them the quite life-critical assistance? I did not know, but for now they nibbled on some travel-size decorative easter eggs and sushi they kept on them at all times.