The Nickel Tour

What do you mean "What am I still doing here?" ... ?!??

You don't listen very well.

I told you: I, Henri Petit, skilled ne'er-do-well and superior-in-every-way ultra-villain of The Unbelieva-Boobs, would be hanging around all week, mucking up my foes blog and causing various misery and mayhem for those three dolts who think they're better than me!

And here it is, Friday ... and they still haven't figured out how to foil the perfect seizure I've managed right beneath their very noses!

Bwahahahaha! Bwaaaaahahahaaaaaa!

What? What's that?

You're curious as to the photo of Betsy working diligently in my master control room at my most mechanical of wonders, The Hacktivator 2000®?

The masterpiece I built which has effectively foiled any counter-reacquisition from those Unbelieva-Dorks?

Sure. Why not? Who can blame you for wondering how the inside of a mastermind works! I don't mind giving you the nickel tour around my control room. It will serve my purposes in showing off ... and making you jealous of my superior intellect!

Bwahahahaha! Bwaaaaahahahaaaaaa!

And, because I'm such a nice guy, to make it easy for you I've numbered everything in the picture below so you can follow along ...

1. That? That's The Hacktivator 2000®'s hypermega-brain main control, quality-made to store the most bulky of information for super-fast processing and information access. (You'll also note I've created it to be used as a handy, dandy snack vending apparatus for Betsy so she doesn't have to go far when she needs an snack break. I know ... I'm a genius!)
2. The Hacktivator 2000®'s battery and back-up battery. Having a back-up? Crucial. Every evil-doer needs one.
3. Another processing mechanism. It's complicated. You wouldn't understand what it's for.
4. The filing cabinet for the detailed instructions of The Hacktivator 2000®. You know, in case there's a glitch or something when Betsy needs to look up stuff. (But that never happens ... because I designed The Hacktivator 2000®! It never gets glitches!)
5. Circuit breaker box
6. Whoops! That's a Starbuck's venti Macchiato I must have forgotten the other day. I wondered where that went ...
7. That Betsy! She loves those cute kitty posters!
8. Main control panel where Betsy carries out all my evil plans! Bwahahahaha! Bwaaaaahahahaaaaaa!
9. Only the best in comfortable seating for my employees! Real leather, too!
10. All I ever ask is for a little loyalty from those I employ. This is a stylish armband with a little picture of yours truly on it. It totally compliments the sweater she's wearing ... don't you think?
11. The Hacktivator 2000® cooling unit.
12. No smoking sign. Duh. You can't be smoking around such sensitive pieces of evil!
13. While she's the only employee I've got, Betsy still likes to liven things up with reminder notes for social events.
14. Hey, goals are important! And I require them for motivation!
15. This is the readout for The Hacktivator 2000®. It spits out detailed information about power usage, maintenance reports and other stuff. It's a useful Muzak receiver as well to keep things pleasant in an office atmosphere.
16. Ho, ho! It looks identical to The Hacktivator 2000® cooling unit to the left ... but it's actually a cleverly disguised coffee maker! Fooled you! Just like I fooled the UnbelievaJerks! Again: I'm a genius!
17. Random evil plans for later spit out by the readout (#15 above) for The Hacktivator 2000®.

And there you have it. You owe me a nickel. 

It's been fun, but I have to go and cause more trouble for those jerkface UnbelievaJokesters. See you later!

Evolution Revolution

Hello once again. It is I, the amazing Henri Petit, master villain and skilled hacker. On Monday, I told you all about the Hacktivator 2000®, the phenomenal machine I used to hack into this very blog and seize control! Bwahahahaha! Bwaaaaahahahaaaaaa! Ha. Ahem. Sorry, now, where was I?

Ah yes. The Hacktivator 2000®. This wonder of modern hack-ology was not my first hacking-capable supercomputer, no sir. In fact there were at least three earlier versions, prototypes if you will, before the Hacktivator 2000® came along. I thought it might be a bit of fun to revisit these early crime-puters (see what I did there? Bwaaahahahahaha!!) so you can see how tooled up I am and stuff. (Evil smirk). (Sorry I had to write that, there's really no way of illustrating an evil smirk. Oh, wait - perhaps there is.)

Anyway - here's the first one.

This is two of my ex- evil programmers, Lemuel "Crowbar" McShifty and Garibaldi Barlow sweating out a line or two of evil code on the EvilTron X1™. Damn thing couldn't hack so much as a Casio wristwatch. So I decided to go bigger. More processing power was needed.

Here we see the EvilTron RoomiebotX2™. As you can see, it was certainly bigger, taking up as it did the entire first floor of my lair.

Once again, there are two "experts" tending to its many knobs and valves. That looks like Henchman Paddy Oltroon on the left, and Henchman Garritov Barlovski on the right. A right pair of numpties if ever there were. And the machine was a total failure too. If anything, it was too big. The size was not the issue after all - it just needed to be more streamlined. Simplicity was the key.

Now we were getting somewhere. With Barry Garlow on the left, and Sossie Jegganchipz on the right, the Eviltronster 12™ was able to interfere with air traffic control at the local airfield. Still, it wasn't quite up to the job I had in mind for it.

So, I had to build it myself. If you want it done right, you have to do it off your own evil back. So, with the help of Betsy, my office manager (who is as strong as an ox), the Hacktivator 2000® was born! 

And now, I have control of those Unbeleivaboobs' computers! Bwaaaahahahahaahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

See you Friday.

It is I, Henri Petit, and I am in charge here!

So the mighty Unbelievables were afraid to include me in their little Q and A sessions last week. I wonder why that could be? Because they know they can't match wits with me? Because I am their superior in every meaningful way? No matter! I, the magnificent Henri Petit, world's most brilliant super criminal genius have hacked this web site and there's nothing anyone can do about it!

KNEEL BEFORE YOUR GOD (and his pet chicken)

 How did I do it? With cunning, guile and my latest computer hacking invention, the Hacktivator 2000® of course!

Betsy, my office manager (and only employee, actually) operates the master control room in my absence

With the Hacktivator 2000®, which can hack into any computer system in the universe with ease, I am now locked into the Unbelievables' system until AT LEAST Saturday. Until then, today, Wednesday and Friday, I am in complete control of this web site. No Michael and his pantsless condescension, no Jeff with his smug European-ness and no Clark with his constant kicking. Those three guys Unbelievasuck!
And what will I use this platform for? Oh, I don't know. Telling you how great I am, telling you how lousy The Unbelievables are. Maybe other stuff. You'll just have to tune in and find out.

Interview With A Stalker

So, it was my turn. I gingerly reached into the hat, not knowing whose name I would pull out. Under my breath, I chanted a mantra: "Not Petit. Not Petit. Not Petit." I unfolded the paper ever so slowly and breathed a large sigh of relief followed by a gasp. The sigh was because it wasn't our most hated villain Henri Petit, that malformed infantile tobacco-stained wretch. The gasp was because it was someone who had proven themselves in the past to be quite formidable. Little Debbie.

So, I duly rolled up to the private space in the Unbelievabase to await Little D's arrival. I noticed she looked a little different to how I remembered. She was also clutching an 8x10 glossy of our own Mr. Michael Noble (she seems to be a bit of a fan of his. There you go - it takes all sorts).

Here's how it went, after she was allowed to bring in a handcart full of boxed baked goods with her.

ME: What's all that stuff?
LD: Oh, that, it's a gift for you guys. (Grabs box of Honey Buns, proffers them) Snack cake?
ME: No, I'm good thanks. And by the way, that was question number one.
LD: Dangit! OK. Um, Do you think I stand a chance with Michael?
ME: No. Well, maybe if you, uh...
LD: If I what?
ME: Sorry, yes or no questions only. Nine to go. 
LD: But what were you going to say? If I lost some weight, is that it?
ME: Yes, and stop wasting your questions. You have eight left.
LD: That's really hurtful. It isn't easy being a super-villain-baker, you know (tears into box of Honey Buns and starts to devour them), I mean I try and I try but there's just so much stress in this job and I end up snacking on whatever's closest to hand, and... (sniff, sob)...
ME: My heart bleeds. Now then, hurry up. Next question.
LD: Have you always been this rude?
ME: Only with people like you. Seven.
LD: (composing herself) You sure you don't want a Zebra Cake? I can't tempt you with a Honey Bun?
ME: No, twice. Five left, Little Debbie - or, should I say, not-so-Little-anymore-Debbie.
LD: Will you please lay off the fat jokes!
ME: Yes. Four questions.
LD: Four?!?
ME: Yes. Three. Make'm good ones.
LD: Alright. Is there any way I can talk to Michael instead?
ME: No. You haven't asked a single worthwhile question yet. Two left.
LD: I don't suppose there's any chance of a do-over?
ME: No. Last one. And before you say anything - think. Just think what you are saying.
LD: (pause) Alright (sighs heavily). I'm seriously hoping you'll say yes to this. If I'm very good and promise to get out of the villainy game and because I want to get fighting fit and back in shape, is there a chance I can learn UnbelievaFu and UnbelievaZen?
ME: Listen, Debs. I wouldn't want you to go away thinking that this was a pointless waste of time for both of us, but you have to understand. You caused us a great deal of trouble and a lot of extra work. You're an unstable, emotional secret-eater who wants to drive every mom-and-pop local bakery out of business, not to mention some not-so-small ones too. You wanted to make sure your additive-filled crap was on every shelf in every store, so you could be super-rich and buy up the world piece by piece. 
LD: So...? Yes or no?
ME: I'm gonna have to say no.
LD: Waaaahhh!! (collapses in a teary, cakey heap and begins to weep freely)
ME: (to Kip the Mail Boy) Get her out of here. I have a date with a hot tub and a Rob Roy.
LD: But where's Michael?! Lemme ask Michael!!! MICHAELLLLL!!!!
ME: Don't let her ANYWHERE NEAR Michael, got it?

Oh, and yes - we kept all the baked goods. We tested them rigorously in our labs before consumption. I'm not saying Little Debbie's products are bad for you, but this is what my chair looked like after eating them.

Unexpected Gifts (pt 2)

I got...

NEGATIVE CHARGE!

That's right, I pulled the card from the undeniably-evil-yet-unfailingly-polite electro-genius. I know everybody was expecting me to get someone else, but honestly this was the first randomly-pulled card I got after throwing back 16 or 17 with a return address of "HP". Sorry, I know that might be bending the rules but in what universe does a small, mewling, nicotine-saturated yambag like that get to ever be called a "winner"?
Anyway, here's how it went with Negative Charge...

NC: Hey, this is just super. I'm so honored! Come on in, have a seat. Can I get you anything?
ME: No. That's one.
NC: Oh ho! Right down to business! That's crafty of you. I guess I'd better not waste any more questions, eh?
ME: No. Two.
NC: Ouch! Got me again! All righty. Once bitten, twice shy. Twice bitten, then what?
ME: ...
NC: Withdrawn!
ME: Okay.
NC: All right then. You are aware that you and your chums stand between me and my goal to dominate the world and that for that reason I have to destroy you?
ME: Yes. Three.
NC: Nothing personal, you understand.
ME: ...
NC: That was a statement, not a question!
ME: Let's go.
NC: Okay then. In my efforts to gather operating capital to finance my schemes that will result in the downfall of society and highlighted by your painful deaths, should I rob museums or banks?
ME: Umm...
NC: Oh gosh, I didn't phrase that as a Yes or No question. I am so sorry! Totally my fault. Okay, should I rob banks?
ME: No. That's four.
NC: I don't mean from a moral standpoint.
ME: Oh. Then yes. THAT's four.
NC: Thanks for the mulligan! Ha ha!
ME: No problem.
NC: Is three henchmen too many?
ME: No. Five.
NC: Is eight too many?
ME: No. Eight is enough.
BOTH: Ha ha ha! (high-fives exchanged)
NC: Is an underground hideout a good investment in 2015?
ME: Yes. Seven.
NC: What's the deal on Marissa? Should I ask her out?
ME: No!! Eight.
NC: Okay, okay. Relax.
ME: It's cool.
NC: Are pre-wedding jitters normal or a sign that I should call things off?
ME: Didn't you just ask me about dating Marissa?
NC: I'LL ASK THE QUESTIONS HERE!!
ME: All right! Geez!
NC: Please excuse my outburst.
ME: No problem. Anyway, yes. And then no. Nine and ten.
NC: Is it appropriate to recognize the hard work of a henchman with a gift or an award instead of a raise in salary?
ME: Yes. One more.
NC: Oh, you know, I've just had such a super time today. I'll yield my final question in lieu of thanking you for making yourself available. It's been just a hoot and a half and I'm sorry that the next time I see you, I'll be killing you and Jeff and Michael. Please say hi to them for me, won't you?
ME: Yes. And that's twelve.
BOTH: Ha ha ha! (high-fives exchanged again)

Okay, last but not least, it's Jeff's turn now!

Unexpected Gifts

With another Valentine's Day firmly behind us, not long ago we thought it would be a good idea to "spread the love" in the form of a little "gift" to our enemies.

No ... we're not crazy. We're quite certain all of you are familiar with the saying "Keep your  friends close and your enemies closer." Well, there's that ... and more. When you're a non-government affiliated, multi-jurisdictional, not-for-profit crime and injustice fighting organization, you learn to work a few angles to keep tabs on the bad guys who wish you nothing but ill will.

We put the word out: Anyone interested in a little one-on-one time with us was welcome to enter into a random drawing. Three "winners" would get to ask a dozen questions of each of The Unbelievables. No holds barred. 

But there was a wrinkle: The questions could only be formulated such that the answers came as either "yes" or "no" responses.

Now, while that might seem limiting, you can gain quite a bit of information if you craft your questions intelligently. Regardless, we figured our counterparts would jump at the chance to grill us, the rules of the game notwithstanding.

Of course once the campaign was initiated, Kip The Mail Boy wasn't pleased with all the incoming mail. Hundreds of entries were received in the hope of being one of the lucky ones. But he hunkered through it well enough.

Once all the entries were in, winners were chosen at random by each of us. Individually, we dipped our hand into a big bag and, one by one, we pulled out the name of a counterpart.

Me? I got The Klumpmasterflash Twins.

Yeah ... The Twins look good ...

... but they're about as sharp as a bag of hammers.
Jeff pulled his next. And Clark? Well ... is there any doubt who Clark pulled out of the hat? (You'll just have to hold tight until those two post to see who they came up with. Though, you can guess Clark's pick. Or ... maybe not.)

I rang up The Twins and a meeting date was arranged.

"Well ... hello ladies," I greeted them as they were escorted into our lavishly appointed parlor/sitting room at the Unbelieva-Base a week or so later.

They sat down opposite me and forewent any pleasantries. "Just yes or no questions, right?" Greta asked.

"Correct" I responded.

Alternatively between the two - as if they had rehearsed the scenario a million times previously - the questions came in rapid staccato fire:

"Where do you keep your arsenal stash?" Gerta.

"Who supplies you?" Greta again.

"How do you keep tabs on us?" Gerta followed up.

"Ladies, ladies, ladies ..." I interrupted "... yes or no questions only, please."

The twins traded glances with each other then looked back at me. I still saw stars when I looked their way, my previous giddy, head-over-heeledness with them long ago still fresh in my mind. They repositioned themselves in their seats and continued the grilling.

Greta: "How does one become an Unbelieva-Babe?"

Gerta: "Who is this 'Kip' person we're always hearing about?"

Greta: "Why aren't you wearing pants?!?"

This went on for another few questions before they finally figured it out ... and on the final question no less:

"We haven't asked all our dozen questions yet, have we?" Gerta queried.

"Actually, yes you have" I stated matter of factly and stood up. "Thank you for coming, ladies. You're time - and your questions - are up."

I escorted the two of them to the door and blew air kisses at both while thanking them for coming. They were flabbergasted.

Indicative of The Twins, some criminals just never learn. Jeff and Clark will clue you in to what I mean ...

The Mysterious Mystery of Mysteriousness (finale) ...

What happened? You know what happened!
Well, you don't. But Jeff and Michael know full and well what happened.
A whirlwind romance, the kind that they used to write epic songs about, is what happened.

I serenaded her...

We danced until dawn...

We traveled the world together as adventurous explorers and even more adventurous lovers (second base several times). From Paris...

To Tokyo...

And even Detroit.

Yes, I have to admit we made for quite a couple!

We were wrapping up our global jaunt when I woke up one morning to find my little Oleander Blossom looking melancholy. "What's wrong, my little Cornflower Crayon?", I asked, using one of about a million adorable nicknames I had for her. "Oh Clark (she wasn't nearly as good as I was at nicknames), I've had the most wonderful time on this trip, but I'm afraid I've kept a terrible secret from you and it's breaking my heart." "What is it, my Shrimp Scampi?" "I'm afraid...there is another."
My blood ran cold, my heart breaking into four equally-sized pieces. "Who is he?", I asked, against my better judgment. She brightened and said, "He's wonderful! So intelligent! He's extremely youthful looking and not very tall. He smokes, which is a nasty habit, but he does it with such style and grace that I don't even mind." The four pieces of my heart exploded into several thousand pieces of indeterminable shapes and sizes. "What's his name?", I hissed between clenched teeth. "It's Henry, but he pronounces it funny, like in a European way. Like, On-ree".

THIS motherf...

The scattered, shattered and covered pieces of my heart came together like the individual members of the Ohio State University marching band during a college football halftime show to form a giant foot kicking a baby through a window.

Oh Jessie, Jessie, Jessie

Not him. Not the vile, despicable, ugly, stupid, infant villain Henri Petit! No, no, no, no, no, no!
Yes. Him.

I proceeded to jump overboard and swam however man miles it was to shore. From there, I returned to the sides of my comrades Jeff and Michael a broken and bitter, no-longer-young-man, man. A man ready to dedicate his life to helping his loyal chums stylishly kicking butt... and taking revenge against a certain chain-smoking little blob of yuck.

The Mysterious Mystery of Mysteriousness (continued) ...

Jeff's right: The cars? Alfred Hitchcock And The Three Investigators in The Mystery Of The Nervous Lion? They don't have anything to do with the mystery I'm about to reveal here.

And wow. I haven't thought about it in ages. So I'm glad Jeff brought it up.

Those kids? Cousins the lot of them, they were good friends of ours back in the day. From left to right:

• Conrad "Chip" Chipster, Chester High School's science fiction Club president and good guy
• Howie Stratham, all-around athlete and much swooned over looker just about every girl wanted to go to prom with
• Marie Chadlowskivich - one of the loves of my youth. (But that's an entirely different story ...)

All of us - Jeff, Clark, Chip, Howie, Marie and myself - were tight. We got along swimmingly, went to the movies together, hung out at the video exchange plunking our quarters into PacMan and Space Invaders and other video machines while sipping sodas and munching on Hunt's Snack Pack puddings. (Chip was the only one who liked the butterscotch flavor ... worst flavor ever.) As a rule we generally had nothing but good times while in our little group. There was nothing necessarily remarkable about our times together ...

... until one day, smack dab in the middle of a rousing game of Asteroids, Clark spotted Jessie Flowers:

It was as if he'd been struck by a lightning bolt. He went slack-jawed at the sight of her and you could see him become visibly nervous and excited at the same time. He couldn't do anything but stare at Jessie.

"Do you see that girl?" Clark asked me as his eyes followed her across the room. I was the closest one to him but I was otherwise engaged.

"Hello! In the middle of kicking your ass on Asteroids here ..." I responded.

"Those deep, mysterious eyes ... that carefree hair ... and that almost-but-not-quite smile on her lips. I have to get to the bottom of the mystery of this girl. Don't save my spot in line at the pinball machine. I could be a while ..."

Jeff and the others watched him saunter off in her direction, his Hunt's Snack Pack left barely touched on a table nearby. (Snack Packs were never left unfinished; this was one of the main reasons we knew Clark was hopelessly struck by this girl.)

And that fateful day was the last we saw of Clark for almost two weeks. The next time Jeff and I encountered him it was as if he was straight out of the film The Time Machine. He appeared exactly as if he were Rod Taylor when he came back from his time-travelling adventure, exhausted, clothes in rags, filthy and barely able to speak or make sense.

What happened? Clark can tell it best from here ...

The Mysterious Mystery of Mysteriousness

It all started when we all went out and bought new cars. We all plumped for the same one - the '71 Matra Laser by Michelotti. You gotta admit, this is one sweet ride.

Michael also purchased a Calypso green Ford Falcon XA GT-HO Phase 4, too. Just for running to the store, he said.

We'd also recently completed reading the book Alfred Hitchcock and The three Investigators in The Mystery Of The Nervous Lion. All three of us. We read it to each other in turn, over the course of three nights, by candlelight. Wait, what? You DON'T do that?!

Whether any of those factors have anything to do with what happened next, I'm not sure. It could have been coincidence.

But what did happen next? Well, I'll let the others finish telling the story, as I like to keep you all in suspenders. What I can tell you is it involves our chance meeting with these people...

and the consumption of some yummy comestibles...

Tee Time - No Deal

So yes, we are T-shirt salesmen. And not for the first time. Back in the day (when we used to hang out with Sheila Ferguson on a regular basis) we had a boutique of which we were co-owners - the renowned Flatfoot Jimmy's.

Good job we changed the name from its previous incarnation.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

We used to have a great line in T-shirts.

Of course, Michael had to have his way when it came to choosing stock.

It wasn't Michael's taste in shorts that finally sealed the fate of Flatfoot Jimmy's, however. Nope, the reason we were forced to shut our doors was the stiff competition we faced from notorious Just For Men user Noel Edmonds. He launched a fab line of teenage tops that blew us out of the water.

Such keen prices and groovy styling! No wonder he called them Lazer!!

Utilizing the Kays catalog, he didn't even need a storefront. The world was his storefront. Soon, hip kids and hep cats everyplace were wearing Lazer, and nobody came to Flatfoot Jimmy's anymore.

Still, we're not bitter about it. We have  hundred and one projects on the go at any given moment, so, we didn't mind. and we got justice served to Noel Edmonds in the end.

Yes, it was us who convinced Mr. Lazer Shirts to go on TV to host Deal Or No Deal with beard hair and hair on his head that not only don't match,  they bear no relation to his original hair colour. See?

1976 Noel.

2014 Noel. What a twonk.

Ah, sweet, sweet revenge.

By the way, if you want to buy our shirts (you know you do), click this link.

I'll be back tomorrow with more adventures. Until then... ciao!