For real, though, I never wanted to be called The Village Idiot.
When I first came onto the supervillain scene, I thought I'd make my mark by putting moustaches on all of the Lady Justice "Peace" billboards that were popping up all over downtown Atlas City. My debut was spoiled by some punk-ass coming by after I left and adding devil horns to all my shit. Just because I'm Black, doesn't mean I need a co-signer. I don't appreciate that shit.
Lady Justice didn't seem to appreciate my handy work, either. She even went so far as to address my shenanigans on the ACTV News. I thought it was going to be the start to a high profile villain career, full of robbed jewels, henchmen, and let's not forget the most important thing; bitches with guns. Little did I know, this Lady Justice hoe was about to get a solid one-up on my stretchy ass.
"As many of you may have noticed," she said in the broadcast. "Many of the billboards for my new Peace campaign have been attacked by some low level graffiti artist, who seems to think moustaches and hacky devil horns are the key to making a name for himself."
I knew those fucking horns would take some wind out of my sails.
"Well, we have gained some intel on the guilty party," she continued. "And while we do not have a picture of this elusive street artist, we have been able to learn his name."
That interested me, a lot, because I was still settling on one of two names to call myself. I knew I was either going to be Gangsta Lean or Plastic Pimp. Both names fit my street swagger and reflect my always useful stretching abilities. Which name was she talking about?
"He would like to be known as The Village Idiot, from now until the end of his illustrious street art career."
She smiled directly into the camera, almost as if she were looking directly at me, saying "your move, dickhead", while The Silly Goose stood behind her in the background, snickering like an asshole.
Well played, Lady Justice. Very well played.
My answer to that insult was pretty simple. Own it. I just started signing all my work as The Village Idiot (or V.I. depending on the size) and living up to the identity she gave me. It's kind of like when you piss your pants in the third grade. If you point it out and celebrate it, you will save yourself a lot more embarrassment than trying to hide it.
Some people call it "tagging". The more pretentious call it "street art", but we all know what it really is. Graffiti. Nothing wrong with it. I've thrown down some good graffiti for my short time in the game. My stretch powers can really assist in getting up into high places and making some very visible pieces of artistic anarchy.
Spray painting giant tits onto billboards and middle fingers on the entire sides of skyscrapers was only the beginning. I was also responsible for putting up several "Do Not Walk" signs at crosswalks all over the city, causing foot traffic to be very chaotic for nearly a week. I invested in a whole bunch of street cones to block off the prime parking spots downtown, just to be a jerk once. Of course, my finest work was the day I was able to paint the entire bullet train to look like one giant cock, flying through the city. The icing on the hysterical cake was watching it blast through the tunnel entrance, that I painted up to look like a butthole.
The Silly Goose has caught me in the act more times than I can count. Sometimes, he laughs and flies away. Other times, he will jack my paint cans or use a bunch of his powers to beat on me a little bit. He's never arrested me, though, and he's never stolen my powers from me. This leads me to believe that the man formerly-known-as The Golden Goose is a secret admirer of my work.
Restlessness had started setting in, though. Sometimes a mother fucker just wants to cause some outrage. The Dick Train was all well and good, but I truly believe a man needs to constantly top himself in order to grow. I knew my plan, I just knew it was going to take a while to execute it.
Some con artists like to do a thing called a "long con", where you put in a lot of your time and resources into ripping off a mother fucker, in hopes you can sting that poor sap for a large amount of money, when it's all said and done. I was about to pull off the long con of villainy.
I rented out billboards, months ago, advertising "Herofest" at the Atlas City Convention Center. It promises to be the biggest gathering of the best superheroes in all of Atlas City. I went so far as to rent out the convention center and even added a number to call for booking information. It didn't take long before every egotistical hero around was calling me up, asking why THEY weren't asked to be part of Herofest. What these fools didn't understand was, there was no actual Herofest. I just wanted to get all these suckers into the same building and the plan was coming together perfectly. Everyone was welcome.
After making a few calls of my own, the guest list for Atlas City's First Annual Herofest was growing to levels I never thought possible. Polar Bear and Grizzly were definitely in. A convincing phone call got Mouse Man, The Blizzard, Super Kevin, and Krayzie Horse (the sea horse cowboy) to join the party. The Monkey and Candy Girl were even coming in, all the way from Sunset Bay. Those were just the notable heroes. The Silly Goose and Lady Justice were certainly going to be no-shows, but I don't need the cream of the crop to make an appearance for this to be my finest work, yet.
The anticipation killed me, but my glory day had finally arrived. I was so excited that I almost left the house - excuse me, The Pimp Lair, without my feathered hat. That would be unacceptable on a day like today. The G-Mobile couldn't get me to the convention center fast enough. It was gonna be a good mother fuckin' day!
I positioned myself on top of the parking structure across the street from the Atlas City Convention Center and had to stretch out my neck pretty far in order to get a good view of the entrance, over the concrete wall. I watched the heroes file in, one after another, along with nearly a thousand Normas and Normans, coming to marvel at their heroes. The twenty-dollar per person admission fee was only a bonus perk to what was about to happen.
Reaching into the pocket of my crisp, new, superfly, imported, dry-clean-only, fur pimp coat, I pulled out a remote control. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, to enjoy the moment, as I pressed the button to activate my master plan.
Inside the convention center, over two dozen bombs exploded. But these weren't just any bombs. These were The Village Idiot's patented Paint Can Bombs. Thousands of innocent citizens were covered head-to-toe in a rainbow of mayhem. Candy Girl was soaked in red, like she was starring in a stage production of "Carrie", or some shit. Acappella Phil's outfit was ruined! The Blizzard was going to have to invest in a new parka and it looked like Nature Girl was finally as green as she wanted everyone else to be.
I laughed so hard as I watched people rush out into the streets, in a panic. Anarchy Ant would be jealous at the chaos I caused. I couldn't wait to brag to that scumbag. I turned a good portion of Atlas City's heroes into my own personal canvases. I tagged citizens!
I knew I had to get out of there before some of the more crafty power people came looking for my Jackson Pollock ass. So, I turned around, and guess who just so happened to be standing on the hood of my G-Mobile, the entire goddamn time... The Silly Mother Fuckin' Goose.
"Come on, man! You're denting my hood!" was the first thing I could think to say.
He politely obliged, by hovering a couple feet above The G-Mobile. He looked at me through the swirly eyes of his cowl, staring at me.
The Silly Goose started laughing so hard that he fell out of the air and back onto my hood, denting the hell out of it.
"That was awesome, dude," he said, dusting himself off. "Good show."
"So, what, is this the time you finally decide to take me in?" I asked. "You gonna finally take my powers away? Not being able to stretch won't stop me from doing my thing, you know?"
"Oh man, I know," he said. "I'm not here to do shit, but give you props. Trust me, you just pissed off some of the most powerful people in Atlas City. If you don't think Krayzie Horse is going to try to shove a dolphin up your ass, then you are sadly mistaken, sir. I'm just gonna sit back and watch the fireworks. Later, fuckface."
He zipped off into the sky, still laughing his ass off. I always knew he was a fan of my work. He was right, though... I was about to catch a beating and I forgot to bring my baseball glove.