Not Just Another Halloween Bash

Several years back, someone got the bright idea The Unbelievables should throw a Halloween party. 

It wasn't me. It wasn't Jeff. And it wasn't Clark. We have enough business to attend to as dashing, crime-fighting upkeepers of the tried and true.

No ... it was the general public at large.

John Q. Public, out there in Stiletto Flats somewhere, came along one day and asked "You know what? Why not have The Unbelievables host Stiletto Flats Halloween Bash this year?" The idea was bandied about, ended up growing legs and, suddenly, it was a town rallying cry resulting in an official invitation to us from the mayor of Stiletto Flats himself. He called us down to his office one afternoon, passed warm greetings all around and put the question to us:

"How 'bout it guys? Everyone knows your parties are legendary over there at the Unbelieva-Base. I hear past parties contained apple bobbing that's legendary! We think you guys would put together a terrific shindig!" he stated enthusiastically.

We might know a trick or two about apple bobbing ...

"What about the muckety-mucks who disagree with the term 'Halloween'?" Jeff wondered. "You know there's always a group out there who want to ruin all the fun for everyone  ... turn it into a 'Harvest Festival' and quash the spooky element out of it."

"Oh, don't worry about them. The whole town is up for this thing. The naysayers won't come near - they'll stay at home and want nothing to do with it. No trouble at all." The Mayor's words held water. Stiletto Flats is a pretty open and close-knit community with most folks on the same page. It's not without a few grumblers but what city isn't? And they do keep to themselves.

"We have free reign as to how we put it together?" Clark asked. 

Yeah ... we had ideas how to throw this party ...

"Certainly! We'll provide whatever venue you like, tables, chairs and all that jazz and even assign you a crew of grunts to help you put everything together if you like. Maybe you could invite the weird guy AppleBobby, too!"

AppleBob Appleby you mean? Uhhhm ... probably not ...

"We'll get back to you on him ... but sold!" I exclaimed looking at the guys for confirmation. "Just one thing: Halloween is on a weekday, school night and whatnot. Let's do it the Saturday prior. Good?"

"Terrific!" The Mayor agreed. 

We set out to make plans. Ideas were bandied about, preparations got underway and posters were printed up (courtesy of the Stiletto Flats Bugle), distributed and displayed. With The Unbelievables featured, the upcoming festival was the talk of the town.

It turned out that didn't sit very well with some of our down-in-the-mouth foes of old once they got wind of it however. How could a simple good time party for the public at large get under someone's collar? But it did.

And here's how that turned out ...

Gone Beautiful

"While we're triple-checking the veracity of the information we've received thus far, all indications point to the three being none other than Stiletto Flats very own resident international crime fighters ... The Unbelievables ..." - Monday's episode

What?? No!!! This boundless and baseless accusation is preposterous and insulting on a number of levels.

1) We're not bad guys. Duh. That's pretty much exactly what we are not and what we are the opposite of.

"Good" = Us

2) Why in the world would we steal jewelry, of all things?

When we already have such sweet bling-age of our own?

3) These are nothing but dudes in wigs!

Let me be clear about something. Do we, The Unbelievables, sometimes dress as women? Of course we do. We're masters of disguise! It's a necessary thing for infiltrating criminal organizations, as well as nice form of relaxation. But when we do it, we take it seriously. We don't just slap on a wig, some sunglasses and some yoga gear and say, "look at us, we're girls!" 

• In order to sound like women, we modulate our voices to a higher pitch and say lady things like "ooh!" and "ew!" and "squee!" and "spiders are icky" and "somebody help me open this jar" and "my uterus is killing me!"
• We pick out stylish and feminine clothing to wear.
• We walk with a swivel to our hips, like ladies do.

The end result?

Boom, bitches.

 Come on. Compare that to these hideous cows...

GROSS!!!

Get it together, S.F.P.D. I thought you were better than this, but we definitely are.

FIERCE!!!

Go out and get some actual evidence and solve a crime, duh.

Gone Bad

Recently in an office at the end of a hallway at the Stiletto Flats Police Department ...

A police captain enters the room and the hushed whispers of a dozen or so officers sitting at several tables become quiet. All attention is pointed toward the captain as he makes his way to a podium at the head of the room.

"Gentlemen? May I direct your attention to the video screen please ..."

The room darkens and a video pops on a screen behind the captain:



At its conclusion, the lights come up once more. The captain clears his throat.

"The robbery you just witnessed was conducted late Thursday afternoon at Stiletto Flats Jewelry. The two employees at the store - both shown behind the counter in the video at various times - have said they believe the perpetrators were three men dressed in wigs and female clothing. Apparently all three spoke at different times during the robbery and the employees stated in no uncertain terms their voices were distinctly male. You can see in the video they avoided the glass display cases altogether and went for the safe in the rear of the store. And it's been reported approximately $240,000.00 was taken. All three suspects were wearing gloves and eye wear as can be seen, making identification extremely difficult. However ... a witness has come forward who claims there are telltale indications as to the suspects' identities ..."

"Who?" came the calls of several of the officers.

"While we're triple-checking the veracity of the information we've received thus far, all indications point to the three being none other than Stiletto Flats very own resident international crime fighters ... The Unbelievables ..."

Meanwhile, At KZRT Radio ...

Crepe: "... and we're back, folks. This is KZRT, your only desert station here in Stiletto Flats and the surrounding area, bringing you all the latest news and weather on the Crepe and Charlemaine Show. We're right in the middle of the topic of the morning, the snafu with The Oscars from last night, the controversial Indian giver move pulled off by the Academy on the good folks at La La Land. What a twist. We've never seen that one before ... and we want to hear from YOU, our listeners on what you think and how you feel. Let's go to another caller. Who do we have up next, Char?"

Charlemaine: "We have Zigfried from right here in Stiletto Flats, Crepe. You're on with Crepe and Char, Zig. What are your thoughts on the Academy Awards debacle?"

Zigfried: "Well ... I have news for you: I was responsible for the whole ruckus. Me."

Crepe: "Really? You mean ... you orchestrated the mix up with the cards during the Best Picture reveal last night? Tell us about that ..."

Zigfried: "Ever seen that scenario before? You haven't. That's because PricewaterhouseCoopers, now known as PwC, has never let that happen before. It took someone ingenious to pull that off. And that someone was me. I infiltrated The Oscars, I made the envelope switch to Warren Beatty and he read the wrong winner. I let PwC have there double check in place in order to showcase the confusion and embarrassment of the situation."

Charlemaine: "We're going to need proof you did it. Why would you do that? How did you do it?"

Zigfried: "You know that tour bus they let in the Dolby Theater? I was on that bus. I ditched the group and worked my way backstage. Honestly: Have you ever seen a tour group worked into the Academy Awards like that before? No. Because security is tight. The place is like Fort Knox. It just doesn't happen.  But I've been planning it for quite some time. You saw the result ..."

Crepe: "More proof ... we need even more proof."

Zigfried: "Fine. Ever hear of a time when Trump does NOT respond to some tweet or other when provoked? Jimmy Kimmel tried ... and failed. That just doesn't go down ..."

Charlemaine: "So what's your game? What are you trying to prove?"

Zigfried: "That the system is vulnerable and it CAN be broken ..."

Crepe: "Sorry. But that's just not enough to get us to believe you were the instigator ..."

Zigfried: "Okay. Here's one more thing, then. Big awards show, watched by millions all over the world. Was there one word from any of the winners grandstanding about politics? About starving children? Women's rights? Anything? No, there wasn't. Because I got to them, too ... every single one of them."

Charlemaine: "Crap, Crepe. He's right. Scary."

Crepe: "Big deal."

Zigfried: "It IS a big deal. I've shown I can worm my way into the most secure of events. So, here's my demand: Get The Unbelievables to meet with me in 72 hours. Or all hell is going to break loose. You'll see real damage done, not just a simple switcheroo at an awards ceremony ..."

(... to be continued ...)

Dr. Hardick, Celebrity

Even funnier than our doctor's name was the way we went about picking him:

Randomly. Out of the phone book.

We moved into the Unbelieva-base and immediately found out we needed more than state-of-the-art anti-crime electronics and a hydraulic pop-up bar.

"Guys? I need to go to the doctor. It's way past time for my annual. Plus it's about the only place I can go in public around here and not have to wear pants," I told the guys one day.

"You have a doctor here in Stiletto Flats already?" Clark asked. "That was fast. I didn't realize you'd had the time to scare one up ..."

"I haven't. But I need to. I saw an office downtown the other day. I might as well just pop in there and see what it's like ..."

"Better idea!" shouted Jeff. "Let's do this the old fashioned way: Random phone book drawing!"

Clark and I looked at each other, then back at Jeff. "Brilliant!" we said in unison.

It just so happened there were a couple brand new phone books delivered and waiting for us when we first moved in. (Funny how that happens - the only things in a new place are usually a phone book and a roll of toilet paper, essentials for new owners as they first step into a new home or business.) We decided each of us would take the book, open a random page, plant a finger somewhere on it and circle whatever we came up with. Talk about your tried and true methodologies!

But when we'd written the final three down on a sheet of paper, it wasn't even a contest. Someone exclaimed "Oh, hell yeah!" and that was it. We had our winner: B.J. Hardick.

We reasoned anyone with a name like that had to be upstanding and professional, not to mention ballsy as all get out.

It was even decided all three of us would go in at the same time for physicals.* (Might as well get'em out of the way chop-chop.) Needless to say, we immediately hit it off with Dr. Hardick.

Fast forward to the present day.

Dr. Hardick has gone on to world-wide acclaim as the personal physician of The Unbelievables.

Some of the benefits of his association with us? Television appearances on all the big talk shows, international lectures, book deals with whirlwind signing tours, lucrative endorsements and more. The world is now his oyster.

Just one of the many advantages of being associated with us. You're welcome, Dr. B.J Hardick.

Oh ... and his chuckle-inducing name? It's never come into question since. (Though, some of that fame and fortune did go to his head briefly at one point: He had inklings of wanting to revert back to his given name, I Sawyer-Bitz. Fortunately, we talked him out of that decision which could have been a monumental professional disaster.)

*Side Note: That first meeting is where Jeff got a bit googly over his assisting nurse, Angie O'Gram ... something he "conveniently" failed to mention. But that's another story entirely.

It Matters Not

Wednesday Jeff said:

"Michael will be with you on Friday with more tales of danger, toilets (maybe) and other stuff (you never know with Michael, he can be kinda random sometimes)."

Just when and where have I gotten this reputation, I ask in all sincerity?

Look: I shy away from using two words day in and day out and those two words are "always" and "never." But I will state this: There is always a method to my madness. And that goes double for my randomness.

Yes, I'll admit: I can be random at times. But we've all heard the term "what goes around comes around" ... right? I just resemble that remark, is all.

So if you keep that in in the forefront of your mind, we'll get along just fine.

Now, back to business ...

Clark started the week off with "It's not that we'll refuse to offer our services ... it's just that we're going to involve ourselves with actual crimes and credible threats, where innocent people might actually be at risk." And he's right. It's not that we don't care, it's simply we don't care about what restroom someone uses.

It's like the time when we first moved into the Unbelieva-Base way back when. Understand, Nevada is hot and we were helping out the moving staff. It was the first time the locals noticed I wasn't wearing pants which - as you well know - has been a non-issue for years now. Back then? Not so much. But does anyone remember the uproar I caused that day? No. You know why?

Because it just doesn't matter.

(L to R: Clark, me, Jeff)

This photo shows us at Union Square on assignment years ago,

one of the first where I convinced the guys going pantsless

would up our popularity quotient. It was a great move and it worked.

(Side Note: It was Jeff's idea for he and Clark to wear shoe lifts.

"It will bolster our sex appeal" Jeff claimed. He was right on the money.

It took hours just to finish all the autograph and photo requests.)

Remember all those goats at the beginning of last year? No. You know why?

Because it just doesn't matter.

You have to admit: They were mighty cute ...

How about all the complaints and noise and broken glass clean-up from Clark tossing Henri Petit out uncountable windows over the years not to mention all of Petit's protestations? Right, you got it. It just doesn't matter.

Hey ... this happens sometimes. (Hokay ... lots of times. Get over it.)

That parade we held a couple years ago in honor of all the Unbelieva-Babes in our employ, both past and present? Sure, it caused a scene. Traffic up the wazoo. (And, to be fair, we DID work a deal with Stiletto Flats officials about all the trash generated on the streets because we're good guys after all.) But when all was said and done, no one even recalls some of the faux pas that came to pass. All anyone talks about is the fantastic cocktail party we threw post parade back at the Unbelieva-base.

There was a lot of trash to deal with ...

Because, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't really an issue to begin with ...

... which brings me full circle right back to this toilet use deal:

Seriously, folks: It. Just. Doesn't. Matter.

Or, as The Clarkster said when he put it to bed Monday:

"... adults with a modicum of maturity and self-confidence are remarkably good at handling those circumstances."

And that's the truth, Ruth.

The end of the line (this time)

We disembarked at Death Valley where we were met by this guy...

THIS GUY: "Greetings, Unbelievables. I am... The Conductor!"
MICHAEL: "Yeah... And?"
JEFF: "What do you want? It's hot out here."
THIS GUY THAT WE NOW KNOW AS THE CONDUCTOR: "Oh. Well, yes. I have brought you all here..."
ME: "Come on already, what's your deal? You're a conductor. So, what, you lead orchestras or something?"
THE CONDUCTOR: "What? No! Trains! I'm a train conductor. You came here by train. There's a whole theme here!"
MICHAEL: "Ugh. We hate trains."
JEFF: "Yeah. Hate 'em."
CLARK: "I'm kinda ambivalent towards trains, for the most part. I hate this one though, because it brought us out here to you, and I definitely hate you. Already."
THE CONDUCTOR: "I'm going to ignore all of that and just tell you that I have kidnapped the world's greatest entertainer, Rod Stewart! That, and I am going to harm him. And there's nothing the vaunted Unbelievables can do about it! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!"

MICHAEL, JEFF, ME: "..."
THE CONDUCTOR: "Well?"
MICHAEL: "Okay, I am completely lost."
JEFF: "Me too. What exactly is your point here?"
ME: "Yeah. What does Rod Stewart have to do with trains?"
THE CONDUCTOR: "Are you kidding me? Rod Stewart loves trains. He loves them! The irony here is palpable!"
MICHAEL: "He has one song about a train. Big deal."
JEFF: "Well, to be fair, he also covered 'People Get Ready', which is pretty thick with train metaphors."
ME: "That doesn't qualify any of this as ironic, though."
THE CONDUCTOR: "You guys are nuts! I'm not even talking about his music. Rod Stewart is a renowned model railroader!"

Huh. Who knew?

That was an interesting reveal. It's always fun to learn about the hobbies of celebrities. But anyway, we beat the living pulp out of The Conductor (note to would-be villains: spring for some hired muscle henchmen and at least make it a challenge), rescued Rod, who came back to Stileto Flats with us where he performed a free concert that still somehow raised a million dollars for charity.

What can we say? The cat is good!

He was so appreciative and gracious that we arranged for his travel home; via the Unbelieva-Jet, NOT by train.

"Ready for boarding when you are, Mr. Stewart."

Pest

Sure ... we're suave and stylish and world-famous.

But that doesn't mean we don't have our own little problems to deal with.
 
And no ... I'm not talking all the bad guys and girls whose paths we regularly cross.

I'm talkin' John Q. Public, your average Joe Schmoe. More so, the person who doesn't seem to have anything else to do other than make a nuisance of him/herself.

We all know people can be a pain in the back of your front at times. And Stiletto Falls, Nevada (home base for The Unbelievables) is no exception.

Supposedly, we make too much noise at night. So much that it's been bothering the neighbors. Which is funny because our headquarters is based in a laundromat ... where there isn't a neighbor around. If we were ever in need of borrowing a cup of sugar, we'd be SOL. 

A note was left on our door one night. We caught whiff of it the next morning when Clark ventured out to get the paper. (People sure like to leave us notes, y'know?)

"Hey, guys," Clark came bounding in, paper and note in hand. "We got a note."

"From who?" I asked.

"Dunno," Clark responded.

"What's it say?" queried Jeff.

"Unbelievables:

Night time is for sleepy time! Tone it down you guys ... or else!

Your Neighbor in the neighborhood"

"Huh," Jeff and I huffed together.

As stated, we don't have any neighbors in our neck of the woods. (And Miss Riss, who's located practically across the street from our headquarters, doesn't count. We consider her more than a neighbor.) So getting a note from a "neighbor" makes this rather the curious affair.

"We could check the Unbeliev-cams and see who left it," Clark suggested.

Jeff chimed in. "Where's the fun in that? Why don't we leave our own note in response. And, to make sure whoever left it sees it, we'll throw a raucous party tonight. Chances are they'll probably return."

We were all in agreement.

Here's what we left:

And that's when things got interesting ...

A Rather Disturbing Discovery

As Jeff mentioned last post:

"... the communiques came in the form of threats, either via phone or on notes hand-delivered to our mailbox. We never really took them seriously, believing them to merely be the diseased ramblings of a messed-up mind. That is, until he started to get serious, personal and dangerous."

Well ... sort of. 

The phone calls? We blew them off as pranks. Because that's what they were ... poor ones, too. They weren't the least bit serious. (And, if memory serves, Jeff even used one as a headquarters answering machine message once.)

But the notes were a different matter all together.

They began arriving more frequently at the Unbelieva-base ... and annoyingly so. It came to the point of our Unbelieva-base mail boy Kip alerting us to their voluminousness:

"Hey guys? We got 34 letters and postcards from Bernie this week. The Stiletto Flats post office is starting to complain they're working too hard and want us to nip this in the bud ..."

Things were unusually quiet on the ne'er-do-well front so we decided to do some digging on Bernie.

Most of what we discovered on the guy was fluff. Stuff and nonsense. The blather of a disgruntled, whiny, self-absorbed little peon who thinks he hadn't gotten his due in life. 

But ... there was one thing we found that got us to sit up straight in our chairs.

An association.

A disturbing association.

A disturbing association with a known deviant.

Scott Thompson.

Better known as ...

... Carrot Top.

Clark will fill you in ...

Parades are perfect

Yeah, Michael is right. There's definitely something fishy going on. We're not exactly sure who this Gene Joyner is...yet...but what he apparently doesn't know is that we do some of our best work during parades.
Think about it;

• Lots of people
• A serpentine route through the heart of a metropolitan area
• Floats!

An ideal opportunity to create mayhem. An even more ideal-er opportunity to thwart said mayhem.

Of course, step one is to outfit the Unbelievamobile in parade mode. Sure, it looks festive but the oil slicks, smoke bombs and wheel-mounted tire shredders remain completely functional, making it impossible for Shriners on tiny motor scooters to follow us.

It's amazing how many villains have the one great idea of making something evil and giant and how many of those villains think they're the first ones to think of unleashing them during a parade. Also amazing is how easily titanic monsters like this are defeated with a well-aimed lawn dart.

Giant monster, giant man. Whatever. Same concept, same end result: Us = one, bad guys = zero.

For whatever reason, Michael opted out of this one.

I don't know who is supposed to find a giant fish threatening, aside from smaller fish. Regardless, we got this.

Once stupid, mewling, infant jerk Henri Petit got involved by entering an enormous himself (left) in a parade, our patience with the concept was exhausted. Hence the deployment of UnbelievaGiant (right), which we used to punt the giant idiot into the Grand Canyon. 

Usually, our known presence at an event is enough to make people feel safe and comfortable. Such was the case with this Gay Pride parade in Chicago that went off without a hitch, because at that time,  unfortunately, gay people weren't allowed to marry each other. That wasn't our fault, though. We're only human. One battle against the forces of oppression at a time, folks.

No parade is too big or too small for us. We're always in attendance for Stiletto Flats' annual "Salute to Practical Municipal Service Vehicles Day" parade, which is a very brief affair.

I think you get the point. Whatever happens this weekend, we'll be ready. Isn't that right, Jeff?

But ... Are They *Really* Unbelieva-Perks?

Unbelieva-Perks? Oh, yeah. Comes with the territory.

But ...

In order for there to be rainbows, a little rain must fall. (Yeah ... I'm taking liberties with the saying.)

Here are a few "examples" ... 

A life time supply of curry

Now ... I don't know about you but I'm not particularly fond of curry.

I don't use it in anything I cook and, unless it's ordered for or presented to me directly, I won't eat it. But that didn't stop the good-hearted soul whose cats we saved from a backyard oak tree presenting us with a supply of the spice. We graciously accept it and continue to do so every time a package of the stuff arrives at our doorstep. And it arrives like clockwork at the first of each and every month. Then? We donate it to culinary schools, restaurants and other organizations willing to take it off our hands.

Yeah ... a life time supply of curry. Strange, no?

6,920 feet of retail space

One group of elderly ladies - after helping them get their car started - left us a deed to a second hand store.

Yes. An. Entire. Second. Hand. Store. Fully stocked with gadgets and trinkets and old clothing and shoes and unused baby stuff. Go figure.

"Thank you" wood

Yeah. Wood. It seems one of our do-good deeds set us up with the gift of left over tree trimmings, such that they were. While unexpectedly set in the firewood department for the next few years, the question naturally arose about how much firewood we actually needed ... in Stiletto Flats, Nevada. (Hint: Zero.)

Clark will wrap up the week with more Unbelieva-Perks. Though, of which variety is anyone's guess.

Coming soon: UnbelievaLand!

One thing that many of our adoring fans from all over the world are always requesting is a tour of the Unbelieva-base. For obvious reasons, we simply can't honor those requests. However, we've come up with something we think you'll enjoy even more: our own theme park, UnbelievaLand! Located in Camisole Heights, Nevada, a nearby suburb of Stiletto Flats, the park will have a number of features that are sure to appeal to Unbelievables fans of all ages! Let's take a sneaky peak, shall we? 

A sign just like the one outside of the real Unbelieva-base greets you at the front gate. An ideal location for photo oportunities.

The Unbelieva-Tram will bring you from the parking lot to the front gate. Unlike your standard amusement park tram, this one does 85 mph and features bullet-proof tires, front-mounted machine guns and the can convert into a submarine. It's also outfitted with ejector seats, so when the driver says keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle, you'd better do it.

One of our techs will show you how to operate one of our actual computers. Calculate complex math equations! Conduct searches and print out the results! Send electronic mail! Dial into a web of other computers located all over the whole wide world and exchange information!

The small fry will love climbing into the Henri Petit ball pit and just going crazy. Go ahead, kids kick those balls. Grab 'em, smash 'em, throw 'em around. It's okay!

Take a look at some of our sweet rides in the Unbelieva-garage!

Take a look at some of our sweet threads in the Unbelieva-Closet!

The crew of our private jet will demonstrate a few of the amazing features of this incredible plane. You can even kick back in one of the seats and watch some case videos (be kind, please rewind).

One of the best features of the park is that will be functional enough to actually serve as an auxiliary base of operations and we plan on being there frequently to conduct actual Unbelievables business. One thing we will definitely be doing there is conducting our initial searches for prospective interns, as seen here. 

There's so much more to this Sexiest Place On Earth (that slogan has yet to be officially approved). I'll leave it to the fellas to highlight some aspects I may have missed.

A Re-Volting Development Chapter 3 (or: "And Then There Was Light")

Facts:

• The Unbelievables are comrades in arms and good buddies
• We're fearless defenders of the common good
• We're upstanding (and stylish!) citizens (... duh ...)
• We're nestled securely as the number one "go-to" establishments for the public in beautiful Stiletto Flats, Nevada
• Additionally, The Unbelievables are one of the Top 10 revenue generators in the state. You probably wouldn't have guessed that. We donate a lot of our income (reward money for ousting bad guys and the like) to the betterment of the state. (It's public record. Go ahead ... look it up.)

With facts such as these embedded in absolute certitude, is there any doubt I had a plan going forward to deal with Negative Charge and his nefarious plans? Of course not ... and here's how that went down:

So ... talking to the guys "in secret" while we were in the clutches of Negative Charge? Well ... let's just say I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he was listening in. What kind of super villain would he be, regardless of his polite proclivities, if he wasn't eavesdropping on our conversation?

What Charge didn't realize, however, was the "key" to our little powwow, when Jeff chided me: "You're better than that." Nothing like a little dissension in the ranks to help convince an unsuspecting evil doing nemesis (and a new one at that) something wasn't going quite right. Gets'em every time.

With our little huddle complete and a nod of acknowledgment to each other (even though the guys really didn't know what I was up to), Clark called out to Charge: "Hokay ... we're done here."

Our nemesis visibly lit up with anticipation - something not so easily done when you have a computer monitor for a head.

 Is Negative Charge visibly lit with anticipation here?

Or is he just pretending to use his hands as futuristic ray guns?

Clark added: "We'd like to admit to defeat, Charge. You've obviously caught us with our pants down, so to speak ..."

"In Michael's case, that's truer than you'll ever know," Jeff chimed in.

I continued: "What say we head over to our Unbelieva-Base and I'll introduce you to the spoils of your victory?"

"Capital idea!" Charge beamed enthusiastically.

So, with his minions in tow, we traipsed over to our digs.

And the first location I led Charge and his posse to? Well ... this room:
 

Clark and Jeff caught the clue and began volunteering information.

"Yep ... here it is. Our fabulous central control room. This is where we get it done," Jeff gushed proudly.

Negative Charge was stunned. He did a complete 360 turn in order to take the entire room in.

Clark picked up from there: "Being a super villain, you have one yourself, don't you? Where you monitor your enemies and plan evil doings and stuff, right?"

Charge was disgusted. "What the ... ?!?? What the hell is this?!?" He began pointing at stuff. "Is that the skeleton of an old stereo monitor?!? And why is it in front of a toilet? Wait ... why is there a toilet in here? Better question: Why is the lid UP?!? All these panels should be covered for safety! There's wiring all over the place ... and in the vicinity of water, too! For Pete's sake - there are cobwebs in ever corner of the room! Don't you guys ever clean ... ?!? This place is a shambles! This isn't a control room ... it's a pigsty! You guys are slobs! You aren't worth the effort! Come on Kevin! Bob ... let's go! Ted, who said you could sit down?!? Let's get out of here ..."

And, just like that, Negative Charge was out of our hair. (No one ever said he was the sharpest tool in the shed.)

  Negative Charge's "groupies" aren't exactly members of Mensa, either ...

"Good job, Michael." Clark congratulated me when Charge stormed out. "Jeff and I never doubted you for a moment. We knew you had matters in hand ..."

"Uh, huh," I responded. "I thought he'd never leave. I'm taking my pants off ..."

Jeff suddenly got animated: "Hey, guys! Let's celebrate another Unbelievables' win! I know it's not Tuesday ... but who's up for some whipped potatoes ... ?!??"

Side Note: 10 minutes after Negative Charge and his companions left, our power came back on ... you know, because he's a considerate and polite super villain ...