Scene: The office of the Senior Accountant for Generic Super Evil Bad Guys Inc.

He's just received some bad news.

Senior Accountant (SA): Willikins, these numbers can't be real. 

Willikins: I assure you, sir. They are quite accurate. We had the misfortune of having Max GoodGuy stumble onto our drug laundering, money smuggling operation where we exchange human organs for lottery tickets. It...went badly for us.

SA: BADLY???? I think that's an understatement! Do you realize how many guys Max killed in that operation? (He holds up a huge stack of payslips, then fans the slips like a deck of cards)

(5 minutes later)

This many!

Willikins (looking embarrassed): Sir, he was quite good. He would jump into a room and everybody would stop and watch in awe. This didn't last long because they'd end up with a bullet in their brain. Perhaps we should invest more money in training?

SA: We may have to, but I'm not sure how much we'll be able to afford. Most of our budget has been taken over by Roderick in Recruiting. And he's going to have a snit fit when he sees these numbers. Do you know how long it takes to even *find* these guys, much less train them?

Willikins: Um, actually, when I've seen them in action...they don't seem that well-trained.

SA: Of course! We spent too much money recruiting them! Oh, and also setting up the drug labs where we're going to make the nuclear weapon, or whatever the hell our next plan is. (He looks at another report) Jeez. This is the custodians' report! The cost of cleaning blood and entrails off of cement and wood and carpet and...whatever the hell else our people bleed on is going through the roof too!

Willikins: I don't think you'll have to worry about that this time, sir.

SA (eyeing Willikins warily): And why is that?

Willikins: Max...actually blew up the building this time.

SA: #@%@!!!!! Now I'm going to have to get the Real Estate department involved. I don't like to cross the head of that department. She's a real witch.

SA: And Willikins?

Willikins: Yes, sir?

SA: Take a memo and pass it around, stating that we are no longer to leave any sort of weaponry or first aid kits just lying around in any of our buildings or super-secret hideouts. No golden gun parts, no high-impact explosives, no rocket launchers by the helipad. You got that?

Willikins: Yes, sir.

SA: Good. Now, one must always look at the bright side of these things. We were running a bit in the red this month, so not having to meet payroll for this many men will actually be very helpful.

Willikins: What about the death benefits to their families, sir?

SA: Death benefits? (Breaks out into evil laughter) What death benefits? You should really go on the road with a comedic act like that, Willikins. (Picks up the phone) Doris? Get me the head of Recruiting. Better start with them first. Hello? Hello? Doris, where the hell are you?

(Suddenly a man bursts through the door already in mid-air, two guns in his hands. He's dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, and flip-flops. He's also moving in incredibly slow motion)

SA: Oh #@%@%!!!!!! We're going to die, Willikins! Did I forget to turn the oven off? What will my wife say? Will she re-marry? Was she going to divorce me anyway? It wasn't my fault! Paula seduced me! Or maybe she really just wanted my money. I am a highly-successful businessman, even if I am an evil d-bag too. Looks like I picked a bad day to quit sniffing glue. I think I got ripped off at the auto mechanic's today when I went in to get my tires rotated. They should really do an in-depth investigation on these types of things. That mechanic gives us really evil guys a bad name! Oh, what will my mom think. I hope she doesn't see pictures of this.....

BLAM BLAM

(End Scene)