Evil Fascist Tyrant Blurnald Blurmpff stood at the office window on the highest floor of his Dark Tower. As he gazed down at the street below, a look of satisfaction spread across his swine-like face, his tiny hands clawing maniacially, gleefully at the Jew-skin coat draping his bloated form.
"Those fools!" he cackled, drawing forth from his pocket a twisted bone pipe, fashioned from the remains of his murdered archenemy, Hillary the Virtuous. "They trusted me! They gave all this to me!" His cackling grew louder, more shrill and hysterical, as he spastically waved the pipe at the window, drawing an arc across the entire vista of New York - and America - which now belonged to him. "They'll regret the day they ever trusted Blurnald Blurmpff! Wait'll they see what I'm gonna do with those shifty Mexicans!" A smug, hideous grin creased his cracked, purplish lips as he stuffed the pipe into his mouth, lighting it up to take a long, deep puff of powdered heroin.
It was then, though, that his piggish, bloodshot eyes spotted something going on down on the street below. What was that? He leaned closer to the glass, squinting- and, as it came into focus, his blood ran cold. For down on the cold, hard streets of New York beneath his Tower, a gaggle of CNN reporters stood... brave journalists, clearly covert members of the underground Resistance, courageously signalling their displeasure with Blurmpff's malevolence by reporting on the disgusting opulence of his seven-course banquet dinner!
"No!" screamed Blurmpff, the pipe tumbling from his lips and scattering ash across his deep-pile rug. "No!" Fearfully, panic coursing through his cholesterol-clogged veins, he backed away from the window. "They've foiled my evil plans yet again! Damn them! Damn them all to hell!" Wide-eyed, almost delirious with terror, Blurmpff scooped up several tubs of ice cream from his desk and trotted as fast as his stubby legs could take him out of his office and up to the roof's helipad. As he started up his customised SS-black chopper and began to speed away through the neon-lit skies, Blurmpff gazed down at the city, a scowl twisting his already hideous features into a gross, distorted caricature. "Curse you, Resistance!" he howled at the figures on the street below, who were now bravely giving the finger to his fleeing helicopter. "You may have won this round, but I'll be back! NOBODY gets the best of Blurnald Blurmpff!"