Evil can easily be created but true malevolence comes from within. One needs character, discipline and vision. These are things I'm afraid my son is sorely lacking.
I had such hope for the fruit of my loins and laboratory. He had perfected his 'bwahaha' laugh to an art form. He was able to list all the great men in history from Adolf to Vlad the Impaler. He even had his father's leering eyes. But something was missing. My boy had no control. At best, he was a brute. He'd never be a mastermind.
I tested him. I placed him in front of a giant red button. No one can resist pressing a giant red button.
"Dr. Diaboliclo Jr," I told him in my most fatherly but firm voice. "Inside that sealed cage is a cockroach. It's the most beautiful creature that has ever crawled. Bringer of countless delightful diseases and scourge of mankind. If you press the button now, you will kill this angelic insect. But if you practice control and hold off for five minutes, I'll let you use the button to kill a puppy. The choice is yours."
I wasn't even able to say 'choice' before he slammed the button. My poor pet, Kafka, exploded, leaving behind a lone antenna and a still kicking leg.
Perhaps my son needed a larger example in order to see the big picture. He really needed to learn that success in evildoing involved the long game and sometimes the joy of blowing things up must be curtailed.
Again, I sat him next to the button. On the screen above was an image of a toxic waste dump.
"Now my malevolent little man," I lectured. "You can press the red button but you would destroy this wonderland before you. Soon the collective radioactive sludge will cause countless genetic deformities. It will poison hordes of innocents and expose ... Boy! Hands off the button! Listen to me!"
I gave one of those exasperated sighs I usually reserve for when one of those pesky do-gooders foil my master plans. I was struggling to be patient.
"Tell you what," I petitioned. "Wait just thirty seconds and you can blow up a busload of innocent school children on their way to an amusement park. How does that sound?"
I could tell I was losing him.
"There are kittens on the bus," I tried to sweeten the deal. "And unicorns!"
My son was unmoved. He slammed on the button eliminating not just acres of deadly sludge, but the heartless business tycoon who ran the place as well. Tragedy!
"Curses! Foiled again!" I screamed as I yanked his arm.
"You're nothing but a disappointment!" I shouted as I dragged him down the stone stairs. "I appreciate your appetite for destruction, but without some intelligence and control, you'll never be any more than a lowly henchman. I will not have you sullying the honorable Diaboliclo family name!"
I punched in my secret passcode and pushed open the massive wooden door to enter the Dungeon of Doom (AKA my man cave.)
I could see my son's cyborg eye light up bright red with excitement. I had taught him to appreciate this foul smelling subterranean torture chamber and it made me almost regret what I'd have to do next.
We marched past the Iron Maiden, the Judas Cradle, and the Pear of Anguish. Normally just the sight of my favorite toys would bring me joy. Not today.
"Gaze, my son, at the Diaboliclo Doom Device!"
He cackled his adorable evil laugh of his which always melted my cold, black cinder of a heart. But I couldn't afford to be merciful. I threw him into what looked like an electric chair and strapped his flailing arms.
"Father! No!"
"Remember what I said about begging?" I chastised. "An evil mastermind does not whine. Take your punishment like a supervillain!"
I opened my Cabinet of Catastrophe where I stored only the most sinister of knick knacks. I pushed aside the Barbie voodoo doll and the mummified ferret paw to pull out yet another huge red button.
"Son, this button activates the most frightening torture device ever invented," I announced. "When I press it, you will relive your deepest darkest nightmares over and over again. You will be tortured by knife-toothed slugs from the 666th circle of hell. Also, you will be forced to listen to that 'Friday' song as you die slowly and excruciatingly. Thankfully I have earplugs."
He sat on the electric chair holding back his tears. He even managed an evil sneer despite his obvious terror. But I didn't need him. He could be replaced by a robot who would follow my orders without question.
Still my mind flashed back to all the good times we had together; that first guillotine he built out of legos, the time he promised a group of hostages that he'd let them live but ate them instead, my birthday when he gift wrapped my arch-nemesis' severed head. The boy showed so much potential Where did he go wrong?
As my sweaty palm hovered over the button, I wondered if this was my fault. I criticized him for acting impulsively, yet here I was with my own red button of doom. Could maybe I be the one that needed discipline? Did fatherhood take more patience than I'd ever possess?
Who cares? It's a big red button. I pressed it. Boom. Done.
Time for the tortured screams of anguish.
Instead...nothing.
My son sat waiting for a punishment that never came.
Curses! I must have forgotten to put batteries in the damned contraption. Best laid plans of mice and executioners.
I'm sure it had nothing to do with me not pressing the button hard enough.
I walked over to my son and gently loosened the straps. "I'm so sorry. Hey, maybe we could go to a baseball game together."
He glared at me. "You wuss! You don't have one iota of evil, do you? You Must Die!"
Ah. My boy. I've never been more proud.
