I

“No, no, no, you imbecile,” I growled. “Move the statue to the left.”

“Yes sire,” my henchman said. He carefully lifted the amazing statue of me and moved it in the opposite direction. I sighed. Man was it hard to be a famous dark overlord these days. It’s not that easy ordering around imps that only had about half a brain. Seriously –this was tiring. I slowly stood up from my golden chair and gazed into the crystal ball that floated three feet ahead of me. The hero, Luke, currently battled my dragon.

“Come on –give him a good kick. No, move to the left –Crap –roast him! Roast him!”

I spat when I saw the sword of the hero hack off the head of my pet. “That figures.” I brushed the dust from my cloak and stormed out of my throne room. My chef rushed over to me as I trailed down the hall.

“Sire, sire –you must try this.” He showed me a dish with a thing on it that looked like a fried rat.

“Urgh –what the heck is this?” I asked.

“Stewed demon’s gluteus maximus,” he answered. My eyes widened as I smacked the plate out of his hand. It smashed into pieces upon impact with the ground.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I sneered. “Guards! Execution!”

“Wait sire, please! Forgive me! I won’t do it again!”

I halted the guards with a single hand signal. “This is your last chance. Don’t ruin my appetite again…or otherwise,” I paused and stepped on a shard of the broken plate. It melted into dust.

“Yes sire,” whined my impish chef. He kneeled. I sighed, continued down the hall and into the front room. Shorty, I snapped my fingers, feeling the need to send some minions on a pointless quest. Three trolls presented themselves before me.

“Alright, you balls of donkey waste,” I yelled. “I want the hero dead! Understand?” I do admit, I sounded like a drill sergeant there, but that only toughened them up. I housed no wimps.

“Yes sire,” they said.

“Now move out and remember, if you fail me, don’t bother coming back.”