Dubious Lee’s hair, black and graying at the temples, was gelled back solid. His face glowed a purchased (or, in his case, stolen) bronze. He cut a dashing, devious figure in his hand-tailored stealth-black-and-spun-gold samite Armani business armor.
The great conference table – emblazoned with the wraith-like sigil of his initials – straddled the length of his conference lair. Dubious Lee stood at its head, hands planted on the tabletop, shoulders hunched, and addressed his guests. “Allow me to explain why I’ve summoned you here. We four, as motley a menagerie of malevolence as we may be, have one thing in common.
“Metalhead. You were once a bountiful bouquet of beauty. The Muse of Metal from Motorhead to Ministry, you served your beloved gods with the exquisite élan of a pliant, purposeful priestess. You supplied your idols with everything from musical motivation to coital comforts… until a certain enterprising young attorney tasked with defending a paramour of yours from a possession charge threw you under the proverbial bus. Forced to flee for your freedom, you were subsequently saddled with your sad cephalic circumstances.”
Metalhead nodded her metal head.
“Alfobet Soope. You were a gridiron god, a paragon of pigskin poetry possessing powers unparalleled. And then you were banned from the sport, forbidden forever from practicing your precious profession. You were not guilty of employing controlled contraband or paraphernalia of a proliferated potency. You were merely utilizing your naturally bestowed abilities. Yes, grandstanding megalomaniacs are perfectly welcome in professional football… provided said egotism fails to imbue you with preternatural powers… powers that were exposed by our litigious little friend.”
Alfobet Soope puffed up his chest, thrust out his chin with peacock pride.
“Titmouse. It was that self-same servant of the state who convicted you in that cockamamie kangaroo court. It was he who successfully moved to incarcerate you in that godforsaken military prison. It was he who suggested subjecting you to those excruciating experiments, resulting in your tragic transmogrification from routine run-of-the-mill rapist… into Titmouse, mutated mammary molester.”
The anthropomorphic rodent gnashed his teeth with a hiss.
“As for myself, I was a titan, the inherent incarnation of invincible industry. My power, prestige and profit were positively perplexing. I changed the course of commerce. Why, I invented going green. I heeled my holdings with the homeless, reaped my resources with runaways, and fueled my factories with the blood of aborted babies. And our mutual friend ruined me! He is singularly responsible for the death of the legendary Leland DuBois and the birth of the dastardly Dubious Lee!
“I have summoned you all here for one purpose…
“To destroy Simple Country Lawyer!”
A collective groan filled the conference lair. “We’ve been through this before, Lee,” Metalhead lamented.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, this is it. Every time you call us here you give us the same limp-dick speech about, let’s kill Simple Country Lawyer – and it always gets fucked up.”
Alfobet Soope agreed. “Yeah, y’all don’t know how to exact vengeance on a mutherfucka. Y’all gotta bide your time, you know what I’m sayin’? Lull a mutherfucka in a false sense of security. Then ya go up for the ball and here come the safety ‘cause he in a disguised zone but I figured that shit before the snap. He go up with me so I take the ball and jam the end in his throat, ‘cause there that space between the helmet and the top of the pads and I can do that ‘cause I agiler than the average mutherfucka. I take the ball in for six and run back and shit in the mutherfucka’s grill and Ima draw a flag for it, but I don’t give a fuck ‘cause Ima fuck his woman so good she throw a flag on that nigga.”
“Are you finished?” Lee asked. “And don’t say the n-word.”
“I am the n-word.”
“Silence.”
“Look, Lee,” Metalhead started, “if we’re gonna take out Simple Country Lawyer, then none of this pussyfooting pussy shit you’re all hot and bothered for. I say we go in guns blazing in a berserker fucking rage, burn him down and salt the fucking earth.”
Dubious Lee shook his head. “The Lawyer is far too facile to fall for a hotbed of hostility.”
“Well, your namby-pamby shit’s yet to produce any – ” Metalhead stopped as she caught Titmouse from the corner of her eye. “What the fuck are you looking at?”
Titmouse quickly looked from her tits to her eyes. “Nothing,” he said.
“You were staring at my tits, weren’t you?”
"Sssso what if I wassss?”
“I will fuck your vermin ass up!”
Titmouse leaned forward with a happy glint in his eye. “Yessss. Anger me, bitch.”
“Bitch, I’ll make you my bitch!”
Dubious Lee cried, “Silence, both of you!”
“See,” Alfobet Soope chimed in, “y’all don’t know how to run a meeting. You gotta – ”
“Silence!”
Alfobet Soope rolled his eyes. “Fine. What ya got planned? Giant death ray?”
“An army of mutated something-or-other?” guessed Metalhead.
“Turn him into a feissssty little filly with big titssss and pointy nipplessss?”
Lee shook his head with a satisfied grin. “No, my contemptuous comrades, no. My plan is one – ”
“Chinky nipplessss!” blurted Titmouse.
“No – and don’t say that word?”
“‘Nipplessss?’”
“No. The c-word.”
Metalhead said, “He never said ‘cunt.’”
“‘Chink’ – and don’t say that c-word either.”
“But I have one.”
“No, damn you!”
“‘Gooky’ nipplessss?” ventured Titmouse.
“No! Just refer to them as ‘nipples.’”
Titmouse considered this for a moment. “Oh, I ssssee – nipplessss.”
Alfobet Soope leapt out of his seat. “Yo, if he gets to call pointy ones ‘nipples,’ I get to call the big dark ones ‘niggles.’”
Dubious Lee slammed his fist onto the table. “No one may call them anything other than plain, simple, unadorned nipples!”
Metalhead asked, “What if they’re pierced?”
“SILENCE!!!”
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