Dr. Evil is no stranger to this page, having fought against Dr. Doom, the Tick, and most recently Commando Cody. He is one of the most recurring combatants on the page by now. James Bond is the sophisticated British secret agent who has a pattern of killing villains far more competent than Doctor Evil and winding up in bed with such glamorous women as Plenty O’Toole, Kissy Suzuki, and of course Pussy Galore (seriously).
After being captured by Commando Cody in his last fight, things looked grim for Dr. Evil, who was placed in an asylum for the criminally insane. But, as Mike Myers proved, the insane doctor is always available for a sequel. And so Dr. Evil triumphantly strolls back into his underground lair, ready to hold the world hostage for one million dollars once more.
“Dr. Evil, how did you manage to escape?”
“It’s really quite simple Number Two. The writer of this web page has allowed me to use a contrived set of circumstances designed to move the story along while saving his lazy ass after he writes himself into a corner. I call it a ‘plot device.'”.
Meanwhile, at MI-6 headquarters…
James Bond is summoned into M’s office for duty. It turns out that his assignment is to capture or kill Dr. Evil.
“But M, isn’t that job usually left to the foppish imbecile Austin Powers?”
“Yes, but I just find his presence too goddamned annoying. You’ll do it and like it.”
Bond races off in his car, breaking landspeed records on his way to Dr. Evil’s secret hideout (which is a little less secret every time it gets mentioned). On the way, he has unprotected sex with some random Hollywood beauty, then smokes a carton of cigarettes and drinks a dozen Vodka Martinis, shaken and not stirred. None of these events effect his driving. Round One goes to Bond. There was no fighting, but 007 was living most men’s dreams while Doctor Evil was mucking around in his underground lair…who do you think got the best of things?
Bond is driving off when his car falls into a pit. Watching the action from a viewscreen, Dr. Evil explains to his cohorts.
“You see, I anticipated the interference of a British spy, so I set a primitive but effective trap for him. Mr. Bond will be trapped for some minutes I suspect.”
“Good job Dad! Now you just have to send guards out to shoot him dead!”
“No no no Scott. I need to take him into my lair, tell him my next evil scheme, and then let him go.”
“I thought you were going to stop doing that!”
“Well it’s not like I’m dealing with Dr. Doom here Scott. This is Bond. James Bond. I can’t just go against five decades of spy movie tradition here.”
“Just…never mind. I’ll be in my room.”
Bond is taken by the guards to Dr. Evil’s private chambers, where Dr. Evil explains his plans to 007 and Bond reveals that he had only allowed himself to be caught so that he could learn of Dr. Evil’s intentions.
“Yeah I know. I’ve watched all your movies. Very educational.” Dr. Evil moves his pinky to the corner of his mouth.
“*Sigh* Well at least act surprised. Oh never mind, I’ll just kill all of your guards and then get to you.”
“What?! Guards, stop him!”
The guards prove ineffective, and Bond gives chase as Dr. Evil tries to beat a hasty retreat. Somewhere in between Round Two and Round Three, Bond has unprotected sex with some random Hollywood beauty, then smokes a carton of cigarettes and drinks a dozen Vodka Martinis, shaken and not stirred. Round Two goes to James Bond.
The chase leads out into the desert, and ultimately Dr. Evil surrenders.
“Okay, okay, you got me.”
“Yes, and now I’m going to kill you.”
“But I frickin’ gave up!”
“Yes, well I still have to kill you.”
“It gives the illusion that I have character depth. You see, the trick is that I kill and womanize, but I don’t like it. But if I stop killing bad guys and womanizing, then the world as we know it will end. It’s a vicious vicious cycle.” Sometime during this monologue, Bond has unprotected sex with some random Hollywood beauty, then smokes a carton of cigarettes and drinks a dozen Vodka Martinis, shaken and not stirred.
“Oh I see.”
Suddenly, an airplane carrying my ex-girlfriend flies over the desert. Since the passengers and crew can’t stand her any more than I could, they toss her out the plane. She lands directly on top of James Bond, who is crushed by a 300-pound bovine-like troll woman. The impact kills her as well and the resulting crater knocks Dr. Evil off his feet, leaving him shaken but not stirred. Scott comes down from his room to see that Dr. Evil has triumphed over James Bond.
“Dad, how did you win?”
“Very simple Scott. I just happened to be on the proper end of a catastrophic sequence of random events that could not be predicted or planned. I call it a ‘coincidence.'”
“So are you going to take over the world now?”
“Screw that. I’m frickin’ tired.”
“Then let’s go get some ice cream Dad.”
“An excellent idea my boy. I think I’ll have,” Doctor Evil puts his pinky up to the corner of his mouth again, “strawberry?”
Round Three and the match goes to Doctor Evil.