It's a Trap!

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Captain Mansplain awoke in a dungeon he didn’t recognize, with a splitting headache. “This is definitely not my own personal dungeon, where I have absolutely never awoken after a rowdy night with a woman I most sincerely did not pay for who robbed me and locked me in my own dungeon. I’d recognize that place. This dungeon is most sincerely a foreign dungeon. Probably that rotten Feminista’s place. Ugh.”

His hands were shackled behind his back, in a most uncomfortable position. In reality, they were just gently behind him, but as an inflexible man in many ways, this simple act was agony. His cape billowed over his arms and was stuck underneath his butt and legs, so when he tried to stand up, he fell.

The woman watching him outside his cell laughed, openly, watching him trip. She had a guttural, intense laugh that reverberated out of his dungeon cell and throughout the whole subterranean level.

Captain Mansplain decided having a female guard was to his advantage, because he really was an idiot. This fact, however, had never deterred him nor stopped him from doing anything in the past. Rather, it propelled him forward into many stupid situations.

Rhonda, the “guard,” was a fledgling villain taking her turn down on dungeon guard duty. She could read minds, and therefore  automatically knew his plans. Her powers didn’t matter in this case, though; it was pretty obvious to just about anyone that he would attempt to hit on her in order to get her keys and free himself from his cell.

“Why, miss, you are far too young and too gorgeous to be here working as a guard for these women! You’re nearly a 7 out of 10; you’d be a solid 7.5 if you lost about 10 pounds and thought about whitening your teeth, you know.”

Rhonda smiled at him, her left eye twitching. Dear god, he really meant that! Her bosses had warned her about the Captain before he had arrived, but nothing could have prepared her for… this guy. How was he a hero, exactly? Oh, right: a white heterosexual guy with an okay body and a huge ego. Right.

She kept smiling. “Why, thanks Captain. Why don’t we get you out of that cell and you can show me your superspeed.”

Captain Mansplain frowned. “I don’t have supe… ooooh. Yeah, okay, I’m into that.”

She let him out of his cell, the same unnerving smile plastered to her face.

Captain Mansplain burst out, exclaiming, “A-ha! I have tricked you, wench! You could never be a 7.5 without serious plastic surgery. And, also, I’m going to escape now.”

He ran down the hall, cape billowing behind him, to the only escape he saw: a door at the end of the hall. There was light spilling out beneath it! He was so close to escaping this wretched hellhole full of *shudder* women. He turned the knob; it was unlocked! Those stupid, stupid…

It was then that he realized that he’d walked straight into Feminista’s dining room, where several villainesses and villainesses-in-training were eating dinner (not sandwiches, he noted to himself).

Rhonda came up behind him and clapped him on the back, getting a big glimpse into that small brain.

“Yeah, you moron; it *was* a trap.”


Scent notes: a freshly baked marzipan cake topped with buttercream, sprinkled with caramelized sugar and a small drizzle of honey, left on the countertop with a lovely note telling you to eat it, and you have no reason at all to suspect that it’s poisoned except for that slightly faint hint of wormwood coming through the sweetness but hey, someone needs to eat this delicious cupcake right? There’s no way this could end poorly.

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