Lady Danger considers herself the greatest villain of all time. In truth, she was the worst villain of all time. And that doesn’t mean she was truly vile, the “worst” meaning actually evil and great at scheming, committing dastardly deeds and laughing all the way to her underground volcano lair. In this case, being the worst means being the actual worst: none of her plans ever work out, and she spends most of her time in her evil treehouse high up in the redwoods. It’s well-known to be where she lives as she posted signs reading “STAY OUT: EVIL LAIR AHEAD” every five feet along the 5 miles of road leading to/from the sharp-turn driveway where burly men always stood, protecting her from… well, not really anything, truth be told, but she felt better having them on her payroll.
Currently, Lady Danger was sitting at a table in the giant living room/conference room/evil planning room, scribbling her name over and over in various styles: Ms. Lady Danger; Danger, Lady; Lady Danger, Esquire; The Lady Danger; From Lady Danger, With Love; Lady Danger, Evil Mastermind, etc. All of her evil schemes to-date had failed, for various reasons, a lot of them stemming from the ineptness of her main henchman, Louis. She’d hired him because he is her stepson, and nepotism, but truth be told he was scrawny and shy and terrible at protecting her or stopping anyone. She still loved him, of course, and he received the highest salary of all her henchmen, though he mostly stayed in his room, playing a game called Fortnite and eating his weight in pizza rolls and obscurely-flavored Doritos.
Danger Puppy, her rescue mutt dog, yapped and yipped at her feet, running laps around the room and stopping to try to get Lady Danger to throw a tennis ball, or take her outside, or do SOMETHING interesting besides scribble on sheets and sheets of paper all day. Lady Danger half-heartedly threw a tennis ball and nearly broke the gigantic laser that was perched in the corner window. “Shit!” she yelled. “Henchmen! One of you! Somebody! Come and get this dog; she almost thwarted my plans.” Some guy came in, wearing his requisite bright orange shirt with “HENCHMAN” clearly displayed across the chest, came in and grabbed the whining dog. “Thank you!” Lady Danger said. “I love my dog but she’s been in here for hours driving me crazy, and I must get my penmanship correct for tonight!”
Lady Danger’s current evil plan was simple: she was going to write her name on the moon. The moon controlled everything, and while she did not have any plans to go into space herself, she wanted the world to know her name. Hence the intense need to figure out what, precisely, she was going to write, and the eternal decision between print and cursive. Wouldn’t cursive look more elegant? But if she slips that laser even a little, it could ruin the effect, and then she’d look so stupid, and what would be the point? She wanted the world to know she had the knowledge, and the power, and the penmanship. She controlled a laser that could reach and write on the moon! How evil. How dastardly. One of her henchmen had tried to point out that, with a laser that powerful, she could do a lot more damage. She’d had him thrown from the top of the treehouse, as he clearly did not understand her motives or reasoning.The goal wasn’t damage; it was power, duh. It was respect. Any idiot can be evil, but not every idiot can be truly powerful. Obviously.
She let out a triumphant gasp; she’d done it, the perfect phrase: “Lady Danger, Queen of the Moon.” Perfect. Written in perfect cursive, it will command the respect of every single person who ever looks at the moon. So, everyone, basically. The world will know that she is queen of the moon; someone to be feared and respected and loved at the same time. Who could refute her status? Could anyone say, “No, Lady Danger, you are NOT the moon queen, there is no moon queen!” She’d just kill them with the laser. Simple. Foolproof. Perfect. She had to go put on her face and make sure her hair was perfect; it was only 7 hours until sundown, when she planned to fire up the laser. She retired to her evil dressing room, full of makeup, hair styling tools that doubled as torture devices, and a massive wardrobe.
Lady Danger called for Danger Puppy, who sat on her lap for the first three hours of prep, before jumping off and going lord-knows-where as Lady Danger changed her mind on her lip color and dress seventeen times. She was going to be live streaming this on YouTube and Instagram; she had to look perfect, dammit! Otherwise, who would respect her as the newly-founded queen of the moon?
Many hours later, well past sundown, Lady Danger finally emerged into the evil planning room, draped in a black wrap dress covered in glitter, complete with large, trailing cape. A large crown with a crystal moon in the center perched on top of an updo that took a lot of fake hair and several cans of hairspray to complete. She sashayed over to the corner. “Henchman! Fire up the laser!” He nodded, lifting the lid on the oversized, light-up switch. He flicked it. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing happened. “Uh, something’s wrong, Lady Danger.”
“Call me the queen of the moon, dammit!”
“Queen of the moon, uh, the laser’s not working.”
“...Is it plugged in?” she asked, incredulously. He nodded. “Get my lead henchman who I do not prefer just because I married his rich father who then died under mysterious circumstances and left me all his money. Go!”
A few minutes later, the henchman returned, her stepson in tow. “You’re good at technology, you’re always on your computer. Fix this laser,” Lady Danger said, taking her stepson by the arm.
“Uh, that’s a little different than a computer, but I’ll take a look.” Danger Puppy started doing laps around the laser, then running back and forth between the laser and Lady Danger. Her stepson checked that it was plugged in, and looked down. “Well, there’s your problem: your dog chewed through the cord.”
“DANGER PUPPY! What?!” said Lady Danger, scooping up the dog. “Why would you do that?” Danger Puppy licked her face in response, leaving a noticeable trail where she’d licked off a smear of foundation. “Ohhh, my perfect little puppy. It’s okay! We’ll get a new cord! Let’s go put a little moon tiara on you and have a photo shoot: the two true queens of the moon!” Danger Puppy barked in agreement, and the two bitches flounced out of the room, leaving a trail of confused henchmen in their wake.
Scent notes: Red Mandarin and rich honey create a sweet first impression, luring you into smoke, patchouli, gunpowder and... Is that gasoline? Clearly, an evil plan is afoot!