My Diabolical Plan

If I were a bad guy in a movie. I'm not, by the way. But if I were. A really, really bad, bad guy that was either really skinny and bald and walked around in a long white lab coat, or maybe a really well-dressed bad guy with a three-piece suit and a pipe and a full head of hair, I'm still bouncing that all around. So anyway, I'm a bad guy. And I'm rubbing my hands together and scheming. Scheming. Scheming for hours on how to destroy this or that. And I've got a secret lab built on an island no one knows about and an assistant that's either a nasty guy with some sort of deformity or a real hot woman that's only attracted to me because of the incredible power that I wield, I'm still bouncing that all around. So anyway, like any kind of self-respecting bad guy I need to have a secret weapon. One that no one has thought of. One that brings stoic men to tears. I mean, I'm a bad guy so I need that, right? But here's where I zag a bit in the bad guy handbook. My weapon is not a ginormous warhead. It's not a destructo-beam. It's Jon Stewart. Yes. He shows up and I rub my hands together and let out a creepy cackle and I say "Behold! My secret weapon." And then there's laughing. And some pointing. And maybe a "Jon Stewart, the comedian? You've got to be kidding, right?" Only I'm not kidding. It's Jon Stewart. The guy who everyone is always underestimating. And calling out as "the comedian." That is until they sit across from him and he breaks them down piece by piece until nothing is left. Not even a shell of their former selves.

That would be my secret weapon. And I would be the most feared bad guy around.