Inga carefully empties the bag of powered evil into a stainless steel bowl on the workbench.

"I didn't expect evil to be yellow." I comment. "This is the pure evil, right?"

Inga nods. "That's what the package said."

"I think some experimenting is in order to confirm that this is actual evil."

"Agreed." Says Inga.

"Well, I think it's obvious what we need to do."

"Put this in the city water supply and track the number of people who start wearing black leather pants?"

"Exactly."

A evil shop makes a very happy Edward. Everything an evil overlord could possibly desire... the kit... blankets for mountain campaigns; laser beams, death rays, assorted thicknesses of garotting wire; and a set of cute clothes-- hats, underwear, t-shirts-- with slogans on: "I'm evil, hear me roar", "I Turned Evil And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt", "Evil Makes The World Go Dark"... and of course the black leather pants.

And everything you need to make you comfortable: seats, water coolers, perfect lighting, helpful assistants (even if the horns are a little off putting; at least he didn't poke me with the fork thingy)...

They even have them in small sizes, as would fit Evil Teddy Bears. And... there.

Wow. Black, really black; leather, real leather; corseted dress, short skirt, plunge neckline-- just my size!

I have to have one of these.

Note to self: steal money from Am-Chau very soon.

Second note to self: if can't find Am-Chau, steal dress anyway. Very soon.

I don't know what Bob's so upset about. He's the one who's been trying to get me out of the khakis and peasant shirts--though maybe he was trying to just get me out of them, not into something else. Hm. Must consider that point.

But, you know, leather's not that uncomfortable, once you get used to it. I had no idea tight leather corsets could feel so . . . supportive. Kind of like a perpetual hug.

Still, Achmed still hasn't stopped gaping and saying half-words, which he's been doing ever since I walked in the door. At least Bob's reaction is more . . . predictable. I suppose I should offer to help him out of those jeans, he can't be comfortable, as tight as they seem to be.

In a very impressive display of vampiric will, he manages a complete sentence. "You were going shopping for office supplies. Evil office supplies."

l stop running my hands up and down my torso when his eyes start glazing over. But, gosh, it's so soft--anyway. "Well, I did see some ink cartridges for the printer that had a really good price, but the only color they had was red, and they were touting the fact that they were refilled cartridges with a special additive that would prevent clotting, so I skipped them. Plus, they have the most lust-inducing rolltop desk I've ever seen, with hidden compartments inside of hidden compartments, and scrollwork designed to let computer cables pass through without chopping holes in the wood. I'm still thinking about that desk."

I run my fingers down my thighs. Deerskin, nummy. "And I really was going to be good, I was really on my way out, but then I smelled it."

He blinks after a moment. "Smelled it?"

"The leather. Leather smells really, really good. Don't you think so?"

Now he's starting to grin. "Uh huh."

Oh, dear. I know that look. I do hope Achmed has enough brain cells left to take himself back to the kitchen, because I have a feeling I'm not going to be leaving the living room for the next little while.

Is that supposed to be a bad thing?

While checking on some new code in the computer lab, Inga barges in with a large three-ring binder.

"He's the results of the experiment." She announces while dropping the massive binder down on the workbench.

"Experiment?" I ask.

"Remember, we added pure, powered evil to the cities water supply?"

"Oh, right. Well, I've sort of moved on to another project. Project H actually. It turns out my cheif rival lost all their lead researchers to a tragic conference room accident and have left a market opprotunity."

"Was it one of those accidents where all the researchers died of massive head trauma while all trying to grab the last capped dry-erase marker and tripping over carelessly laid wires that were never unplugged from the last meeting because the secretary went on strike?" Asks Inga.

"Exactly. Now I need you to gather the staff, Project H is ready for deployment."

(Bwahhhahahahhhaahh!)

The staff meeting is almost over, so far all the reports have been positive. My policy of killing department heads who bring me bad news appears to be working well. Ah good, the report on the evil household goods department is over.

"Very well, any comments?"

One of my worthless minions stands up and stammers out, "Shouldn't we stock some Chirstmas merchandise?"

"What is Chirstmas?"

"It's a holliday, stores usually stock a lot of profitable items...."

"Deimos. Form a Christmas committee to investigate this so-called holliday and report to me tomorrow. That will be all for today."

Is everyone ready for the Winter Light Show? My neighbors haven't even started planning out how we're going to decorate our street-- if we don't get on it soon, we won't have a chance at the citywide competition. We're gonna have to find someone the sells lights and decorations cheap, and in bulk...

t picks flyer off post

Festival of Lights Starts Here! Cash transactions only to emulate your own Starry Starry Nights. Dawnstars and stars of wonder! Cash only!

Well, I usually don't start decorating until after Thanksgiving, but it wouldn't hurt to buy some early...

Hmmm. I wonder if they have fairy lights, too, or just the standard electric.

'Bout time those freeloading faries pulled their weight. Of course, since they weigh next to nothing their weight-pulling generally consists of three hours of flickering, scintillating light. That's why you have to have lots of replacements on hand, usually fresh-frozen.

At least they waited till after All Hallows this year. Of course, that might have something to do with the ghosts and whatnot who swarmed all over town last year stealing anything at all Christmasy that was on public display. I remember Jilli having a knockdown yelling match with a crew of zombies and saying that her Santa Clauses were perfectly acceptable because they were all wearing goth gear. I'm still not sure the eight flying vampire bats were a good replacement for the reindeer. Though Bob nearly hurt himself laughing. All good.

Off to see how much eggnog it takes to convince a vampire that Thanksgiving is a perfectly acceptable holiday, not just the emblem of colonial oppression. Not like we celebrate any of the Orangemen holidays. No pumpkin pie for those, after all.