"The Unbelievables Might Actually Die This Time!"

Shortly after the meeting Michael told you about on Monday ended, our phone rang...

Riiing!
CLARK: Hello?
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: (Unintelligible)
*click*

Riiing!
CLARK: Hello?
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: I'm sorry. I had a mouthful of food and I wasn't expecting anyone to pick up after just one ring. Is this better?
CLARK: Yes, much better, thanks.
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: You're going to die!
CLARK: One second. Kip, it's for you.
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: No, I don't want...
KIP: Hello?
*click*

"Hello? Hello? Are you there? Hello? Who is this? Hello? Hello?"
Hang up already, you moron!

Riiing!
CLARK: Hello?
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: Hi. Please stay on the line. I don't want to talk to Kip.
CLARK: Join the club, pal.
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: No, when I said 'you're going to die', I meant you and Jeff and Michael. The actual Unbelievables.
CLARK: Oh, you're going to kill us, eh? Do you think we're afraid of someone who doesn't even have the guts to call in threats from an unblocked phone number?
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: It's not me. I'm not coming to kill you. I have inside knowledge of a plot devised to eliminate you.
CLARK: Who is this and how do you have this information?
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: I can't answer either of those questions. All I can tell you is The Ominous Tall Man Dressed All In Black is coming for you!
CLARK: LeBron James is coming to kill us?
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: What? No. I didn't say it was LeBron James. Why would you...?
CLARK: You said it was a tall black man who plays basketball, which is a little bit racist, frankly. All tall black men don't play basketball, you know.
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: I didn't say he was black or anything about basketball! You're the one who...
CLARK: I can't say I'm surprised. LeBron is kind of mad at us about something right now that I can't get into. Although I am surprised that he's so mad that he'd want to kill us...
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: I really don't think it's LeBron James...
CLARK: I mean, of course I can see him wanting to kill Jeff. No brainer. But I didn't say anything and Michael wasn't even there at the time.

"Hey! Hey, you big crybaby! Waaaah! Waaaaaah!!"
"Ohmygod, knock it off! He's looking right at us! Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!"

BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: Listen! You need to take this threat seriously! I don't know when The Ominous Tall Man Dressed All In Black is coming for you but he is coming, and soon!
CLARK: I assume since you have this info, you were at that meeting we heard about where all of our foes gathered in once place to talk about us. In which case, you're a foe of ours. Why are you trying to save us.
BLOCKED NUMBER CALLER: Because I have plans of my own for The Unbelievables. Some day. In the future. A long time from now. Definitely not this week. Maybe during the NBA playoffs, when it might bring more traffic to the blog. At any rate, later. And my plan calls for much worse than merely killing you!
CLARK: Wait... is that you, LeBron?
*click*

 And then, the power suddenly went out!

"The Unbelievables Must Die"

The room was packed. And it was a big room. There wasn't an empty seat in the place.

It seemed everyone was there: Herman Van Veen. Greta and Gerta, The Klumpmasterflash Twins. Negative Charge. The Leapers. (Though why they were present no one really knew.) Henri Petit. The Double-D Dames, Mac Ramey. Little Debbie. Mona Pletheridge, Dixie Bose-Sennheiser, Iona Mansion and all the other evil photographic models. Coach Fenella Flipoff. The infamous Woman With No Name. The Hostess. Lumpy "Hair Eye Am" Gonzalez and Neal Anderthal. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Cripes ... even Chafe Del Husqvarna was in attendance. I mean ... wowzah.

The room oozed evil intent. You couldn't make your way down an aisle without catching a whiff of sinister, dire circumstance. The place smelled thick as thieves.

Everyone was whining something at an ominously tall man dressed all in black behind a podium on a stage at the front of the room.

"They're tough, let me tell you ..."

"Jeff talks funny!"

"More windows have been broken with my head than I can count ..."

"Butt-kickin' doesn't begin to describe them ..."

"Michael doesn't even look that good in shorts!"

"All of our plans, months of scheming, tossed to the curb every time!"

"We spend good money trying to foil them! And we've got nothing to show for it!"

"Clark's 'Vette ain't all that, let me tell you ..."

"And we're damned tired of their ultra do-goodery! Not to mention all those Unbelieva-Babes hanging off their arms!"

The ominous tall man dressed all in black held up both his arms, hands parted, and waited patiently until the room quieted. Then he spoke:

"All of you have the exact same problem. And that problem is named Clark, Jeff and Michael, better known as The Unbelievables. I'm here to take care of that problem once and for all ..."

"HOW???" came the cry from all over the room.

"Your mistake, the thing each and every one of you have failed to understand, is this: You have to rid yourselves of The Unbelievables permanently. They have to be disposed of once and for all. And there's only one way to do that. It's something none of you has ever had the balls to do, let alone propose. I will do it for you ..."

"AND WHAT'S THAT???" came the cry from all over the room once more.

"I will kill The Unbelievables. They must die ..."