Chapter Text
One Void Day, Count Bleck flew out of his bedroom with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. Muttering in a disturbed way under his breath, he stumbled down the black stairs into the living room, where the minions had gathered after dinner. Flapping his hands wildly, he came in the doorway and yelled, "WE'VE BEEN ROBBED!!"
Nobody moved. Everyone else was absorbed in their own projects: Mr. L was gaming on the TV, and O'Chunks was reading the Flipside Inquirer on the floor. Dimentio was sitting on the couch, shoving a creepy doll of his own design into Mimi's face as she tried to play on her pink iPhone. Nastasia was just sitting there vegging while looking over a clipboard with the day's finished tasks.
Count Bleck was panting as he feebly leaned on a chair and narrowed his glowing eyes at them. "We got robbed," he repeated, like a strangely normal person.
Nastasia finally blinked and noticed him. Getting up, she lowered her clipboard and stared at him concernedly. "What??" She asked.
"My socks," the Count replied. "Count Bleck's socks are gone."
Now everyone seemed to pay attention. Mr. L stood up with an incredulous look on his face. "What are you talking about? You don't have any socks!"
"Shure don't," added O'Chunks, motioning to his giant plaid socks which were full of holes and emitting a nasty smell. "Ye don't 'ave feet, Count!"
Count Bleck stopped for a second to ponder this.
"Don't worry, Count. If you ever do get some socks, we can go on another sock-op if they're stolen," said Dimentio. "But in case that fails, Statefarm can cover your socks in case of a robbery."
"That's right, Count," Nastasia said politely. "We got rid of all your socks after the live sock episode, remember?"
"The Count's got no socks!!" Mimi shouted for no reason.
Count Bleck looked at Mimi, unimpressed. "Really Mimi?"
She looked down at her tiny feet. "I want some socks..."
"Someone needs teh sock this baby," said O'Chunks.
Nastasia turned off the projector and turned to their dinner guest, Sir Grodus. "And that's the commercial we made for Statefarm Insurance," she said.
"Convincing," he replied.
"Yep. It also covers home and auto," Mr. L boasted.
"But probably not that ultra-modified Brobot you're always fawning over," Dimentio snickered.
Mr. L stood up. "How dare you."
"I'm merely suggesting—
"EVIL!" Mr. L hollered, picking up a fork.
Everyone else fled the room, knowing that anarchy would follow.