Flashing lights, pinging sounds, and carnival noises roar throughout the arcade. Kids run from one machine to the next, waving stacks of tickets all about, anticipating what they can afford at the prize booth. Front and center, atop the highest shelf, lies a vintage Playboy nudie-mag for one-million tickets.


            The Internet changed everything, but Dr. Villainous kicks it old school. He’s a goofy wannabe villain who’s into some horrific shit. Rollin with his trusty sidekick, Butler-Bot, a metallic bucket of bolts thrown together by Dr. Villainous for one reason: to collect every vintage nudie-mag the world has to offer.


“The ski-ball machine, older than time and more profitable than gold, it’s the key to obtaining what I seek,” said Dr. Villainous. “Also, it’s fantastic for rizzing up dates.”  

“If you had a date, you wouldn’t need a nudie-mag,” said Butler-Bot.

“Shut your robotic-ass up! No Valentine is better than that nudie-mag!”

Butler-Bot shuts his face hole and gets back to playing ski-ball. Dr. Villainous does the same, getting a perfect score on all ten throws. The tickets come out of the machine at super-speed.

“What the shit!” yells Dr. Villainous. “Only ten tickets for the fruits of my labor!”

“I tried to tell you, sir,” says Butler-Bot. “Ski ball is a dog shit game.”

“You take that back!” yells Dr. Villainous.

Three degenerate children run into Dr. Villainous, hitting his knee caps before falling over. Dr. Villainous peers down at them, locking his eyes onto the tickets in their hands. He blankly stares for a moment while the children rub their heads, as if they’ve been blindsided.

“Don’t do it, sir,” said Butler-Bot.


Dr. Villainous and Butler-Bot walk away with tickets wrapped around their arms. “There’s nothing better than a little villainy,” says Dr. Villainous.

“Hey!” screams a young child.

Dr. Villainous and Butler-Bot turn around. Every child in the arcade is standing before them, madder than a pack of wild dogs. Dr. Villainous sneers, saying, “You’ll need more than an army of failed abortions to keep me from my nudie-mag.”

“Is that so?” says a female voice.

Once again, Dr. Villainous and Butler-Bot turn around. A pregnant mother has the nudie-mag in her clutches, holding a lighter to it. Dr. Villainous drops his tickets, saying, “Here’s the deal, hand over the vintage porno-mag, or bitches die.”

The cluster of children charge at Dr. Villainous and Butler-Bot, who show no mercy when kicking their shit in. Dr. Villainous and Butler-Bot whip submachine guns out of their coats, back-to-back, spinning in circles in order to hit as many kids as possible. The kids who haven’t dropped dead begin to run away, but the pregnant mother holding the nudie-mag stands still, stunned and disconnected from what just happened. Dr. Villainous walks up to her, ripping the nudie-mag from her trembling hands. He shoots her in the stomach and walks away casually, smiling as he tears the plastic covering off of his magazine.

Dr. Villainous flips through his porno. His joyful expression fades, changing to that of anger and disappointment as he screams, “Oh no! This nudie-mag only has plus size models!”

“Sometimes you gotta entertain yourself with the fat chicks to realize how special the skinny ones are,” said Butler-Bot.

Dr. Villainous nonchalantly tosses the nudie-mag over his shoulder and says, “That’s a load of bullshit, Butler-Bot. Villains never settle, and neither should nudie-mag readers.”

Patrick D. O’Shea is an aspiring show creator from Melbourne Beach, Florida.