“What is this?” roared the Most Evil Dreaded one, poking the sloppy gray substance in her bowl. “I asked for breakfast, not the latest kitchen mold experiment.”
“Bran-wonder Surprise,” the serving minion said with a smirk.
“I didn’t ask for this!”
“Eh, hem.” The Second-in-command Minion (SICM for short) marched into the room. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of menu, my Dread Lord. As you were over twenty pounds overweight on your physical exam the other day, we’re instituting evil weight loss measures.”
“What?” The Dreaded One swiped the Bran-wonder Surprise off the desk with a swipe of the back of her hand. The serving minion’s swift jump backwards saved him from getting hit, but it slopped all over the SICM.
With a grunt, the SICM wiped bran cereal off his face. “I meant you must lose weight, Your Dreadfulness,” muttered the SICM. “Your doctor says–”
“Time to go gut the doctor.” The Dreaded One growled, propping her feet up on her desk. “I need to get some writing done. Hurry up with this nonsense and go remove that doctor.”
“You already did that, Your Awfulness… several times.” The SICM sighed. “Listen, you can’t just keep gutting doctors, it won’t solve the problem. If you want to succeed in world domination, you need to be in good health. That means less ice cream, more whole grains and living a more active lifestyle.”
“My muse can’t function without ice cream.”
“I’m afraid it’ll have to learn to make do, Evil One. Ice cream will now be reserved for birthday parties only. The kitchen will be setting up a nutritious new diet that will help feel your muse without layering on the pounds.”
“Somehow I’m skeptical.” The Dreaded One gave the smirking serving minion a glare as he picked up the empty cereal bowl and beat a quick retreat.
“Most importantly, Evil One, you need to live a more active lifestyle, more action, less sitting.” The minion gestured at the desk and computer with his spear.
“Fiiiiine,” the Most Dreaded One snarled. “I’ll shelve my current plans and write an action scene today. Perhaps a battle or two.”
The SICM sighed. “Um, that’s not exactly what I meant, Your Awfulness.”
“Oh, I see. Right.” The Dreaded One rubbed her face with a hand. “Active, not action. Well, I’ll highlight all my be verbs and work on eliminating boring ones like look and seen as well. It’ll be a hassle but considering my health is at stake, it’ll be worth it.
“No, no.” The SICM flushed and held up a claw. “You misunderstand. You need to exercise.”
“Well why didn’t you just say so!” Snarling the Dreaded One swung her feet down from the desk, and pulled open the drawer to yank out several books. “I’ve got loads of exercises I can do. On voice, characterization, description, even plot. I’ll just make sure I slip in what… 40 minutes of exercises three days a week and–”
“Em, excuse me.” The SICM grabbed the writing exercise book off the table. “I meant physical exercise. As in: MOVING your body.”
“What?” The Dreaded One gave him a blank stare.
“Like a sport.”
“Writing is a sport.”
“An active sport.”
“I told you, I can add active verbs and more battles.”
“Listen!” The SICM slammed his spear down on top of the desk, sending papers everywhere. “You need to do something that evelvates your heartrate, moves your muscles, and challenges your body physically in order to lose weight. Nothing involving writing counts.”
The Dreaded One narrowed her eyes at the SICM, going deathly still, but he held her gaze.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” The SICM bared his fangs.
The serving minion had taken this moment to return with a plate of boiled broccoli as a breakfast alternative. It sniggered as it shoved it down on the desk. The Dreaded One glanced at the green mush, then at the minion’s gloating expression. A twitch of her tail was the only warning. The serving minion tried to spring back, but was too slow. The Dreaded One grabbed him by the throat, hauling him up.
“Um… just what do you think–” The SICM was cut off as Dreaded One grabbed him by the shirt with her other hand, lifting him off his feet and making him drop his spear with a clatter. “What are you doing?”
“Urrrgl.” The serving minion struggled scream but couldn’t manage it with the Dreaded One’s grip on his neck.
“I’ve picked a form of non-writing exercise,” snarled the Dreaded One, sweeping both minions over towards the window.
“Dare I ask what, Your Awfulness?”
“Weight lifting.” The Dreaded One hurled him out the window. “With a mind towards shot put!” she shouted before throwing the serving minion after him.
Turning around and wiping her hands off on her pants, ignoring their screams all the way down to the distant thud as they hit the ground, the Dreaded One looked around for the nearest minion cowering near the door. “You! You’re my new SICM.” She tossed the plate of broccoli at him, and he ducked, letting green goop and ceramic shards splatter across the pillar by the door. “Get that cleaned up, and bring up a big bowl of ice cream. I’ve got an active writing exercise to write.”