“And they said it could not be done.”

Dr. Malpractice mumbled in a deep, deluded voice. The lowness of his speech was such that, had the thunders not been cracking outside the castle windows, it would have vibrated across the corridors and rocked the nightmares of the children.

That alone was enough to tell Dr. Malpractice’s patients that the evil hours during which his baneful chemicals poured into their veins had unfortunately borne fruit. All they could do was to scream. An odor of hot grease flooded the laboratory.

The first action the doctor took was to tele-screen his archrival, Prof. Tumorcakes. The moment her face flashed across the screen, the evil doctor excited proclaimed—“LOOK ON MY WORKS. NOW I WILL BECOME AS A GOD MYSELF!”

“No, you fool! That’s not why I said it’s impossible!” the professor replied, “Don’t you know that you are already one?!”

A confusing answer, the doctor thought—but that was when he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflective screen and

…he was already a bacon.