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Captioned Images Series: Dr. Zaaijer The like Zany Scientist
Created: 12/02/2024
Igor cleared his throat, clutching his clipboard tighter as he tried to muster the courage to confront his boss. The lab, once a fortress of scientific ambition and sinister intent, now felt like a chaotic teen's bedroom. The mind and body transformation plans that used to fill the screens had been replaced with fashion lookbooks, pop music videos, and—was that a countdown widget for the prom? Igor shook his head, muttering under his breath.
“Doctor, I really think we should refocus on the task at hand,” Igor ventured carefully. “You haven't transformed on person this entire week.”
Dr. Zaaijer, lounging on her ergonomic villain chair—now draped in a sparkly pink blanket—barely looked up from her phone. “Ugh, Igor, why are you always so *serious*? Like, can’t you just *chill* for once? I did all that last week and the week before, and besides, who cares about finding victims when I can’t even decide between heels or flats?” She frowned at her reflection in a compact mirror. “Flats would be comfy, but, like, who wants to be *comfy* when you could look killer in heels?”
Igor's patience was wearing thin. “With all due respect, Doctor, you didn’t claw your way to the top of the villain hierarchy to worry about footwear!” He stepped closer, trying to appeal to her once-formidable intellect. “Remember who you were before the—uh—accident? The visionary who invented the neuro-scrambler in a single afternoon? The woman who demanded fear and respect?”
“It wasn’t an accident, Igor,” she interrupted, her youthful face now a perfect mask of melodramatic anguish. “It was fate. This body chose me, and with it, a higher calling. To conquer not just the world,” she said, dramatically pointing toward a distant prom flyer pinned to the wall, “but the hearts and minds of my high school peers!”
"But doctor, the basement is filling up with victims. I can't keep them there forever. You have to do something!"
Dr. Zaaijer paused, the edges of her youthful pout softening. For a moment, Igor thought he’d gotten through. She set down the mirror and swiveled toward him, her expression... reflective.
“You’re right, Igor,” she said, her tone serious for the first time in days. 'Like, bring me my first victim, Kyle's dad."
"Who's Kyle's dad?"
"Kyle's dad says that Kyle can't take me to the prom because he already asked another girl out. That's not fair. Hey, bring me the other girl too..."
Igor didn't know if this would be a good start or a bad one. But something was better than nothing.
End.
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