"Doctor Holocaust is a villainous gentleman who, above all else, is trying to take over the world."

My First Act as a Villain

Several years ago I made a decision that is, to this day, generally detested and wholly under appreciated.

I decided to become a super villain.

And as far as decisions go in my life I would say that this one has certainly held a great deal of weight. Not just in the way I chose to spend my hobby time but also in the small decisions that I made throughout my day to day life. This is a story that dictates the first of many of these desisions to come.

 

So I was at the bank, planning to get a rent check made up for the meagre apartment I had been dwelling in, waiting quietly in line. Now this is important. The Line is important. Or at the very least it was important to me. Lines. They are the simplest and easiest system to follow. The people that get to the location of service first get served first. It is SO EASY. But the following events both detail how much I hate people in general and the elderly in specific.

So while I’m in my glorious line, enjoying the bliss of fair order and simplicity, this old woman comes shuffling in. And not in the fun LMFAO kind of way. No. It was in such a way that dictated her age in a clear and concise fashion. She was OLD. So she shuffles in the door wearing her track suit (also, what is UP with old women and track suits?) and takes a seat off to the side. I assumed this was because she wanted to catch her breath. Getting around at her age cannot be easy and she was likely winded.

I assumed.

One of the tellers clears and asks for the next person in LINE. There is a woman, one woman, in front of me in the LINE. She is next to go see the teller. But then this old lady, this greedy little THEIF, jumps out of her seat and with OLYMPIAN SPEED rushes to the counter and cuts off the woman in front of me. She cut line.

Not on my watch. 

I stick out my head from the line. “Excuse me.” I say frustrated to the back of her head as she tries to start a transaction with the teller. She ignores me. But I am not to be ignored. “EXCUSE ME” I repeat with an authority that I only may have used once before in my life. The old woman turns to face me and makes the decision to, and I swear this was the very end of her, play dumb. “Oh. Oh is there something wrong?”

This was the last straw.

See, I think I might have actually given up on being a Super Villain at some point. I had the idea that it was something I was going to do to make the world a better place but in all eventuality I might have gotten over it and discarded it as just some kind of phase. But this old lady, this wretched excuse for a human being, changed that. She dared to use her age as a smoke screen to cut line and not take the responsibility for it. I would not allow this kind of crap to stand. Not here. Not anywhere. Not ever again.

I was FURIOUS.

I point to the teller while looking at the old woman and say “Was she processing something for you? Was that why you were sitting over there?” The old woman continues the facade of ignorance and says “No?” It’s at this point that I then point to the back of the line and say “That’s great. Because the back of the line is over there.” I can, at this point, visibly see this woman break on the inside. She tries not to lose composure and starts to shuffle to the back. I stand with self satisfaction, trying my best not to be smug. But as she shuffles past me she looks up and mumbles a comment that would be the signature on her death warrant. “Bastard”.

 

I go in for the kill.

 

I lean in REAL close to this FAKE and get face to face with her. “You know what lady? If it were up to me you’d have been ground into sausage and fed to the pigs the moment you couldn’t pull your own wretched weight.”

She goes pale as a GHOST and BOOKS it for the back of the line.

I stand up, eyes forward, and one of the tellers actually gives me a nod of appreciation. I had, on this very small scale, made the world better through villainy. By being the bad guy I had swiftly solved a problem. This was it. This was my calling.

 

And I’ve never looked back since.

6 Comments

  • Posted June 20, 2013 at 2:18 pm | Permalink

    I sir, salute you. As a British man, it my firm & resolute opinion queue jumpers have no place in civilised society.

    Tell this story before you occupy the British isles & at least half the population will flock under your banner.

  • DarciaSolas
    Posted June 20, 2013 at 11:08 pm | Permalink

    YES!!!!! <3

  • Cat Munroe
    Posted June 21, 2013 at 12:46 am | Permalink

    I don’t think i would be as cruel as you on this occasion but I can you got your point across. I would have simply used my rifting ability to rift her to the end on the line and kept doing that if she continued to try to but in front of everyone. As funny as that would be I think yours would get better results in the long run.

  • The Fiddler
    Posted June 21, 2013 at 12:15 pm | Permalink

    Ah, I remember this story from your Evil 301 video.
    Though I must say, I have personally met a lot of cool elderly people. You know, the kind who gives you the extra chocolate because “Oh, sweetie. You look so thin. Have another one, dear.”
    I miss my great gramma a lot. She was awesome and taught me how to play solitaire, softball, and soothed my fear of dogs.

    But yes, there are those elderly who really must be dealt with. The kind of elderly who think I must be a lesbian of some sort because I opted for very short hair, too busy with my own brand of villainy to deal with it. Those who make snide comments when I don’t stand up for them to sit down on the bus because I’m too damn tired to care about their bunions and hips. The entitled elderly are the most annoying thing on this planet next to Tom Nook.

  • Skyheartstar13
    Posted September 20, 2014 at 12:47 am | Permalink

    There was another way to resolve this situation.
    I don’t have great social instincts; what I know about social protocol I have either gleaned through analyzing interactions or have been explicitly told. I make up for the rest by trying to be extraordinarily nice. I have a deep respect for people who treat others well while not being doormats. I also have decided to be against revenge; when someone treats me badly, I am not allowed to treat them badly, though I may ignore or avoid them.
    But I have cultivated the ability to act with courtesy while simultaneously pressuring them to feel uncomfortable about doing the wrong thing. I act with a false naïveté, as though their wrongdoing is a simple misunderstanding.
    “Excuse me, ma’am? The line for this window is actually back there.” I can sound com

    • Skyheartstar13
      Posted September 20, 2014 at 12:55 am | Permalink

      …completely sincere, because I am sincere, on the off chance that there was an honest mistake.
      And if she swore at me, I would give her a big smile and say, “You’re welcome!”
      And what is she going to do, explain that she was swearing at me? It’s like me laughing when people try to bully me, not looking put down.
      She goes to the back of the line, I have been absolutely respectful, and I don’t break when she tries to put me down.
      It took years to develop this technique, but it is very satisfying when I leave people with nothing to accuse me of. Defiance through kindness.