“Ssstop shooting the consolesss you fool!” Cobra Commander yelled over the comm screen. “Sstop him, Cobraaaa!”

One of the Cobras at his post begrudgingly stepped up to stop me and got shot in the knee courtesy of Agent Hanson. He fell to the ground next to Colonel Scar.

“Don’t anybody else try it,” she warned.

“You’ll pay for this!” the Commander threatened. “I’ve got lawyers – the best that money can buy.”

“Lawyers don’t scare me,” I shrugged and then shot another console. “I don’t have any money.”

“Oh oh, Jon,” Hanson called to me. “What do we have here?”

“What is it?” I ran over to where she was beckoning. “It’s a self destruct button! Oh Joy!”

“Sssstay away from that thing!” the terrorist leader hissed.

“Don’t you touch that!” Colonel Scar added.

“But listen. Can you hear it call to me?” I wrapped my arms around the console the button was attached to. “I cannot resist its siren spell.”

“No Jon, don’t do it!” Hanson egged me on in a mock horrified tone.

“How long can Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator resist pushing the self destruct button?” I called out in an announcer’s voice. “The beautiful, shiny button? The jolly, candy-like button? We he hold out folks? Can he hold out?”

“If you touch that button, I will bring an entire global terrorist organization down on top of you!” Cobra Commander threatened. “You will not be able to move a muscle without my minions there to kill you. Stop one of them and three will take his place!”

I pushed the red button. “Oops, I dood it.”

“Oh now you did it,” Hanson added.

The PA system called out a self destruct warning in a calm woman’s voice. In a panic, Cobra troopers shot out of their seats and out the door.

“I love these self destruct warning voices,” I sighed. “They always have these sexy voices. I wanna know who has the job of recording these.”

“Oh I’ve met her,” Hanson replied. “She’s got a nice gig.”

“Ahhhhhhh!” the Commander screamed. “I can’t believe you--!”

His image exploded as a blaster bolt from Betsy blew up the screen.

“I don’t see why you didn’t do that a half hour ago,” Hanson noted.

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m gluten for punishment.”

“So how are you going to get us out of here?” she asked.

“Well, I’ve been working on that,” I held up my finger in reply.