I breathe in slowly as I step closer to the cell door. The handcuffs' cold metal are digging well into my skin; the police man that put them on me made sure to fasten them extra well this time so I couldn't escape again. I sigh as I feel the cuffs loosening whilst the cell door is being opened. As I am pushed inside of the cell, I trip over myself and fall into the bunk beds that are standing on the right side of the cell. I hear the cell door shut and get locked.
"Hello," I hear a pubescent voice coming from the lower bed. I look up and see a robust young man with tan skin sitting on the bed, focusing all of his attention onto a small spoon.
"Hello," I reply quizzically. "Who might you be?"
"I am Señor Senior, Jr.; son of Señor Senior, Sr.," he looks down at me, as I am now sitting up against the wall beside the beds, "and what are you?"
I ignore his comment hinting towards me being a creature as opposed to a human being and stand up, speaking in great pride, "My name Dr. Drakken, and as soon as I get out of here I will be the ruler of this world. Just you wait, Shego will be here any minute so we can get on with our plans." I pause. "I'm just going to call you Junior. Your full name irritates me." Junior grinned at me slightly and went back to focusing on the spoon. I move over to the bed next to him. "Why do you keep looking into that thing? Is there some sort of code on it? Oh, or maybe it's a communication device!" I take the spoon from his hands and put it to my ears as if it were a phone. "Hello?" I call out, but I receive no answer.
"It is not a device for communicating! I am simply trying to look at myself. I need to make sure my hair is perfect at all times and these prisons will not give me my Le Goop." He snatches the spoon out of my hands and focuses his attention towards it again.
"Hair is not of import," I say. "It is all about the way you dress when dominating the world!"
"Of course you could say that when you have that ridiculous little thing hanging at the back of your hair," Junior says as he pulls on my ponytail. "And when it comes to clothes you have no right to speak as well, not with that hideous blue outfit. It completely clashes with your skin colour."
I look down at my clothes. I've always thought it made me look "hip" and made me blend in with the youngsters these days, but I guess I could have been wrong. Maybe I could go and look for some new, more "hip" clothes once I break out of this prison. Until then, I will have to manage with my skin colour and clothes apparently "clashing", as Junior had stated. Well, at least until the guards give me my orange jumpsuit, not that that will be an improvement.