The dark power of the prank...

The comments about this prank segue from "ha ha" through Godwin Land to a level of hysteria that a cheap five minute prank doesn't begin to explain.

I am of course a professional supervillain myself, and even I wasn't able to stomach reading all NINE PAGES of flames.

Can one of you professional comic artist defenders explain just what was so dire and evil about it. I mean, really, I could use the tips. Should I prank the Flash instead of siccing my hypervibrating superleeches on him?

Leeches on a fucking plane.

They shoulda used leeches.

Leeches are way scarier than snakes.

Especially exploding ones.

Ghosts revisited.

Just a quick note... the explosions in the breeding pools are NOT due to a chain reaction of leech ghosts setting off their ex-conspecifics. It's that damn superhero with the pyrotechnic abilities that my lawyer has asked me to PLEASE stop referring to as the human flashlight. He's figured out how to trigger the guncotton-laced myelin sheaths around the poor babies neurons.

Evil Spirits

After Amanda's comment I decided to do a quick check for evil spirits, vampire ghosts, and other cockamamie supernatural creatures floating around my secret lair. No wonder the Good Guys have been able to sneak in so easily, it's like Times Square on the astral plane around here. It looks like most of my dead henchmen have been hanging about, and not only that but all the native spirits have been attracted by the unusual concentration of ectoplasm... it's like leaving your trashcan uncovered: next thing you know you've got stray cats in the kitchen and coons in the attic.

And of course there's at least half a dozen superheroes out there who can talk to ghosts.

Firecrackers only clear them out temporarily. I'm developing ghost-sensitive exploding leeches to scare them away automatically, but I've been having a problem with the leeches' own ghosts setting off chain reactions in the breeding pools.

Legions of Terror

It's amazing how hard it is to recruit legions of terror when you live in a swamp. Especially when you're looking for sidekicks with real super powers instead of mere henchmen. I tried the henchmen schtick, equipped them with leech-enhanced weapons, and what happened? The Good Guys just take the leechbeam guns away and use them to bring me to what they call "justice"!

Is that fair?

Well, I guess it is in an ironic sort of way. But I'm going to do better, this time. Got one good candidate, interviewed well, and no goodie-two-shoes hero is gonna extract his spleen or wooba gland and use it on me, no sir.

Ow! My back.

Don't let anyone tell you that I haven't suffered in the name of science.

I'll get these leech enhanced spinal implants working one day, Doc Ock will be green with envy. In the meantime, I learned a valuable lesson in trusting quaint old cajun gentleman and their rustic swamp therapies.

Ow.

Luckily I keep my vertebrae numbered.

The voices in my head.

Dear Diary: it's been a while since I wrote to you, and there's so much to tell.

I discovered that leeches provide excellent lubricant for slipping untracably out of tracking cuffs, thanks to my slight build and delicate bone structure. The fractures in my ankle bones are healing nicely, and I hear that do-gooder Termiteman was halfway to Patagonia before he managed to break out of the shipping crate.

While I was in the Good Guys flying prison, my new cannibal maintainance leeches eliminated the termites in my secret lair, and provided a useful object lesson to any others of my elite guards who might decide to accept a bribe from a Hero or even a competing criminal mastermind.

Life is good.