Yeah, The 'Rection X Program! Whattaya, deaf?

So anyway, I'm still in this limo with the Frown Brigade.

"Look, guys, I know I have a reputation for taking any job, but if you all want a piece of me, you're gonna need a small fortune and a BIIIIIIIG tube of KY!"

"Be quiet, Wilson. We are not interested in your services, at least not as you can provide them now," says the guy sitting across from me, who happens to be wearing different clothes than his lackeys. Hey, wait a second!

"You're the leader, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am. An astute observation, Wilson."

"Teacher always said I was special. So, look, I appreciate the limo, makin' prom night a night to remember and all, but what's with the deception and henchmen and spiffy uniforms? We goin' to a Gulf War re-enactment or, shudder!!, a Maroon 5 concert?"

"Cute...Wilson, very cute. If we were going to the real Gulf War, you would be more fortunate than you are for coming with us. We are taking you to a place in which you will die and be re-born as the ultimate soldier of the gigolo army!"

"There's a gigolo army? Jeez, like the Salvation Army wasn't bad enough. Okay, lets pretend this isn't some kind of REALLY jacked-up fantasy, with wonderful production by the way, and you really are going to go all Dr. No on me. Why me? Why not that drag queen down the street, Moon Knight? He/she needs to be more ultimate than I do. Seriously, have you seen this guy/chick work!? It's a disgrace to gay-for-pay! Not that I do that, of course...."

"Enough wisecracks, Mr. Wilson! The point is, you're going to become a freak and we're going to make you that way and you will be in my service until you die!"

"Excuse me, I think what you meant to say was 'you're going to become a freak and we're going to make you that way and you will be in my service until you die, PLEASE'! I don't care how old or how big your cast of goons gets, the magic word always has a place."

"That smart ass attitude will be the first thing to go. Now if you don't shut up, we're going to drastically raise your lead intake and throw your body to the beavers!"

Buzzkill O'Houlihan is playing hard to get and I'm not exactly eager to chase him, so I sit back and cross my arms and legs. The henchmen have lost interest in me and now they're looking around at Goldfinger over there and out the windows. One of them keeps glancing over at me, presumably to make sure I don't do some kinda Arnold Shwartzajigger-style daring escape. It was tempting, but since my win/loss record is uglier than the 3 A.M. waitress at Denny's, I decided to wait until they broke out the riding crops to break myself out.

"So," I said to the guy who kept looking at me. "Ya think Spider-Man will find Dr. Octopus' Rosie O'Donnell clone generator this time, or will we all be buried under trillions of Koosh Balls?"

"Shut your mouth, man-whore! The Doctor has instructed you to remain silent, and you will be silent!"

"And who, pray tell, is this Doctor person?"

"The Doctor is a visionary, someone who will revolutionize the profession of prostitution by introducing a new breed of super-whores onto the streets! You should fall to your knees and thank Thor to be in his presence!"

"So....you named the limo 'The Doctor'?"

"That man," he screamed, pointing at the head fetishist. "He is The Doctor!!"

"Was that so hard? Next time, just say 'that guy', huh? Friggin' kiss-ass."

After a while and no fewer than fifty-five instances of me asking 'are we there yet?', the limo stopped and I was ordered out. It was still night, which was too bad because to the left was the city dump and the syringe and condom pile is stunning at sunrise. They **** me into what used to be the Happy Hippie Recycling Plant, which was abandoned many years ago. Great. They're gonna make me take part in a Scooby-Doo mystery. I swear, if I have to hear that nerdy chick say 'Jinkies', she's going under one of those piles.

"So, here we are, Mr. Wilson. Your new home and your new hell. I think you'll find the facilities to your dissatisfaction."

"DISsatisfaction? I thought the expression was to my satis...OH, I see what you did there! Its for ****, so I'll be DISsatisfied with it! Boy, are you clever! How can I grow up to be a big smarty like you?"

The head douche snapped his fingers for some reason and

Uuuhhh....oh, man...

I tried to hold my forehead, but my hands were bound by straps attached to a table. Damn, they rolled me! Joke's on them though; I only had ten bucks on me. Won't even cover the rental fee for those snazzy spook costumes! I looked around to find myself alone and in a small, closet-ish room with nothing in it but me, some stains that would just be have to be blood and another table. So, I'm getting a roomie, huh? I really hope it isn't Moon Knight. Might make for a good sitcom when we get out, I guess. Hey, America! Get ready for the newest comedy duo, Wade and Moon Knight! 'Wade, did you leave the cap off the toothpatht again?' 'Kiss my grits, tranny!' (wild applause) Hee-hee! Oh, no I didn't!

The door opens with a nice horror movie creek and The Proctor walks in. I'm a little let down that he isn't petting a white cat.

"Back from Dreamland at last, Mr. Wilson?"

"Mmm, everyday is a dream when I'm with you, sugar-sack. A dream where I'm making out with my gym teacher who won't shave his prickly beard."

"Enjoy your wit, Mr. Wilson. It won't be yours much longer. I just wanted you to be awake when we remove it. I wonder if you'll make a face when it's gone, Mr. Wilson."

"Could you stop calling me 'Mr. Wilson', please? You sound like Dennis the Menace after spying on Margaret in the bath once too often. Ew, even I got grossed out on that one."

"I'm going to enjoy working on you, Mr. Wilson. For now, just relax and go mad in isolation. Ciao."

Super.