Vaudevillain I Mustache You A Question (6)

I Mustache You A Question (6)

Dr. Zlo cackled as he watched Quartet struggle with the unconscious director, his hatbots recording the minion's effort. A bit of humiliating labor would teach his minion to behave.

Putting Quartet into the hillbilly outfit had beco the best part of this cri. The minion resembled a jug band straight from the boonies, Quartet's tall and wide personas giving off a cartoonish impression. More so than before, in Dr. Zlo's mind. It was almost enough for the villain to try and force his treacherous follower to wear the outfit all the ti.

Almost.

Dr. Zlo's inner gentleman wouldn't allow a follower to dress like a yokel all the ti, only on special occasions. It wouldn't be proper to have anyone looking so disheveled while committing cris. After all, Dr. Zlo was a classy villain.

"Okay, here's the director," Quartet said, walking into the Zloppelin.

"Excellent!" Dr. Zlo said, coming out of his thoughts. "Place him in the chair, quick."

While Quartet perford his task (grumbling all the while), Dr. Zlo arranged his chair to sit just outside of his light source. Einstein and his mice helped tilt the light above enough to keep Dr. Zlo's face out of view but left the rest of the villain's body visible. Once finished, the criminal mastermind hopped into his chair, Einstein jumping in after him.

The director woke to the sight of a torso dressed in an impeccable suit, a white mouse resting in the figure's hands. For a mont, the man tried to bolt from his chair, only to find ropes securing him to the furniture. With nowhere to go, the director lost his look of panic and instead leaned back in the chair.

Dr. Zlo blinked, "Aren't you wondering where you are?"

"Oh yeah, sure," the director replied, his voice greasy. "But once you've been in situations like this a couple of tis, the whole song and dance gets a bit trite."

Dr. Zlo looked over to Quartet, who shrugged.

"Well, then," the villain said. "You must be wondering why I've tied you to the chair."

"My guess is you want a guaranteed spot in the next movie," the director said.

"Is that common?" Dr. Zlo asked, unable to help himself.

"Oh yeah," the director said, leaning back in his chair. "You wouldn't believe how many of you villains want to star in movies. Just last week, I had the Mighty Roper tie to the water tower for a spot in Death Clocks Four. I gotta tell you, though, that guy needs an agent. Who in their right mind calls themself the Mighty Roper?"

"Indeed," Dr. Zlo said. "Well, Mr"

"Call Lenny," the man said.

"Mr. Lenny. Perhaps I can spice up your kidnapping life. You see, I'm not looking to play a part in a movie. I'm looking for an actor in a movie."

Lenny raised an eyebrow, "No kidding? That is sothing new. Alright, I'll bite. Who ya need to find?"

Dr. Zlo scratched the back of Einstein's ears, and the mouse scurried off, returning with a picture of a mustache. The mouse then moved over to Lenny and loosened the man's bonds, just enough to move his hands a bit.

"I need to find this man," Dr. Zlo said, handing the picture over.

"You want to find a mustache?" Lenny asked, turning the picture in a few directions.

"That, and the man behind it," Dr. Zlo said.

Lenny turned the picture a bit more, "Oh yeah, I see it now. That's Vurt Teynolds. I shoulda known it was him too, what with the mustache and all."

"Do you know where to find him?" Dr. Zlo asked.

"Oh yeah, sure," Lenny said. "But what's in it for ?"

"Your life, for one," Dr. Zlo said.

"No dice there," Lenny said. "I'm already living on borrowed ti."

"What?" Quartet spat out.

"It's simple," Lenny said. "I got so many villains wanting to be in movies that I know one of them is gonna off at so point. So I decided to stop caring. Surprisingly, it's worked out so far."

"Hmm, yes," Dr. Zlo mused. "If I kill you, then you won't be able to give what I want."

"Exactly!" Lenny said, giving Dr. Zlo a finger gun.

"I think he's bluffing," Quartet said.

"I think the hillbilly hick squad should be quiet," Lenny shot back.

Dr. Zlo laughed at that, Dylan unable to stop himself in ti. Quartet looked at his boss in anger, further fueling the minion's need to overtake Dr. Zlo.

"Quartet, go get changed," Dr. Zlo said. "I'll handle negotiations."

Grumbling, Quartet stomped off to fix his attire.

"Now," Dr. Zlo said, turning back to Lenny, "What is it you want for your information."

"You got any more of the mice?" Lenny said. "Nifty trick there, teaching them to fetch and all."

"Oh," Dr. Zlo smiled. "Playing fetch is the simplest task they can perform."

"Then you got yourself a deal," Lenny said.

The two n shook hands, Dr. Zlo exchanged a mouse, and the villain received the information he needed.

"Vurt's gonna be at the premiere for his new movie tonight," Lenny said. "That Foggy and the Bandit one. You can't miss the building. It's the big one with all the lights. Heck of a security detail, though. So I don't know how you're going to get in."

"I have my ways," Dr. Zlo said.

Lenny hadn't kidded when he said the premiere building was the one with all the lights. And now that it was night ti, the building stood out all the more. The Palace, an aptly nad theater, stood in the center of the film district in Angeli, it's bright countenance attracting anyone who caught a glimpse of the light show scattered across it.

There were gigantic spotlights, waving around like royalty in the night sky, couple with small electric bulbs reminiscent of early lighting technology. Placed between the two competing luminous bodies was a large backlit sign, the words "Foggy and the Bandit" blinking across. Below, a garden of photographers greeted the incoming stars, their caras flashy flowers trying to attract attention.

"We're here live at the premiere of the new hit film, Foggy and the Bandit," a reporter said, her voice mimicked by countless others. "And what a night it is. I see all the great nas are out for this event. Even famous director Cubrik and his friend Spellberg have co to see the film."

The reporter motioned for the cara to pan over, showing the two directors walking down the red carpet in their nicest suits.

"Behind them cos the lead of the film, Vurt Teynolds, along with his very noticeable brand of facial hair," announced the reporter.

The woman announced a few more actors, so major, so minor, before stumbling a bit at the next entrance.

"And here we have I'm sorry, I seem to have misplaced the na. Excuse ! Sir! Would you mind giving the cara your na?"

"Not at all," the man said, twirling this thin mustache and leaning on his cane. "I am Dr. Zlo!"

The paparazzi paused, all eyes turning to the villain.

"Sorry," the reporter asked again. "Did you say your na was, Dr. Zlo?"

"I'm quite sure you heard the first ti," Dr. Zlo said. "But I'll humor you. Yes, it is I! Dr. Zlo! Criminal mastermind!"

A few reporters tried to shy away from the villain, only to bump into the man's minions.

"Ah ah," the villain tutted. "Don't leave so soon. You haven't even heard my master plan!"

"And, what is the plan?" the reporter asked, trying to buy ti.

"I'm hijacking this premiere!" Dr. Zlo cackled.

With that statent, the Palace Theater's sign switched to a nacing red, and the words, "Dr. Zlo's Mustache Competition (of doom)!" scrolled across the screen. The reporters all jumped back, confusion and fear etched on their faces. Dr. Zlo rolled his eyes and pulled the reporter to him. She shrieked, drawing everyone's attention back to the villain.

"It has co to my attention that none of you appreciate the greatness that is the mustache!" started the villain. "So I have co to redy the situation. Now! Everyone inside, unless you want to be swiss cheese."

"You an you'll shoot us full of holes?" a reporter asked.

"No!" Dr. Zlo pulled a weapon out of his inventory and shot the offending reporter. Instantly, the man transfigured into a block of white, holed cheese. He fell to the ground with a dull smack, eliciting screams of terror from the surrounding captives.

"I know," Dr. Zlo said exasperatingly. "This entire event is mustache thed, and I have a gun that turns people into cheese. I swear it's not my fault. I had Cass pack my equipnt before the show, and he must have gotten a bit hungry."

Dr. Zlo straightened, pushing his hostage forward, "But enough of that! Everyone, inside! You're all going to be my audience for this grand show."

At the sa ti, a long, sleek car pulled up to the red carpet. Dr. Zlo turned to see Cass step out, opening the door for Mabel. She had dressed in a flowing red dress to match the carpet, and a blood-red rose rested on her hair. Behind her followed a robust man in a cavalry uniform and cowboy hat, his severe face showing displeasure.

"Ah, good to see the final guests have arrived," Dr. Zlo said. "Mabel, if you would do the honors and escort the man in?"

"My pleasure, hon," Mabel answered.

With a quick word, Mabel brought the last guest inside the Palace.

"Well then my captives!" Dr. Zlo exclaid. "Head inside and find a seat! The show's about to begin!"