"I don't really see why I should help you."

Morg stared down at Underfist and the aSTRoVaMPiRe. They had crashed into the middle of his military base, and had been rounded up and brought before him by his army of zombies. At the moment, they stood in front of a throne made of bones, where Moog sat comfortably, sipping a drink with an eyeball floating in it and getting fanned by zombies with palm fronds. This stood as a sharp contrast to the polished metal interior and tile floor on which Underfist were forced to kneel before him.

"Please, you've got to help us!" Jeff said. "The fate of the Earth hangs in the balance! Without your help, Earth will be dominated by spiders, which isn't so bad, I guess, but I've–we've–been tasked with saving the world from those who threaten it. And right now, it's being threatened! So you have to help us save the world."

Morg took a sip of his drink and smacked his lips. "I don't care."

"Listen, you zombie-enslaving reaper!" Hoss barked. "I'm a monster hunter from way back, and I'm telling you, we need your army if we're going to kick the butts of all these zombies and save the world. Now you better hand it over, or there's gonna be trouble."

Morg laughed and took another sip. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. I don't care."

"Ooh! My turn!" Fred said.

"Oh, this oughta be good," Morg said sarcastically.

"On Earth, we have nachos," Fred said. "And nachos, are delicious. I like nachos! And I like hot dogs! And there are hot dogs, too! Hot dogs, and, nachos! Yes! And I can spell my name real good! F-R-E-D F-R-E-D-B-U-R-Ggggggggggg-E-R! Fred Fredburger yes! So the world, it should be saved, because then there will be nachos! And hot dogs! And I have to go potty, where is it, thank you very much yes."

Fred Fredburger walked off towards the nearest bathroom. Morg rolled his eyes and stood up.

"You all seem to be hard of hearing," Morg said. "So let me just make this clear. I don't care about your planet. The amount I care can be measured in atomic weight, and the atomic weight is zero. If your world dies, it has no impact on me at all. And since I know some of you were once my zombie slaves, and at least one of you tried to defeat me, I have a simple solution to the problem of you being in my antechamber." He summoned his scythe. "Prepare for zombification!"

"WAIT!" Irwin yelled. "I KNOW WHY YOU SHOULD HELP US!"

Morg lowered his scythe and pretended to examine his nails. "Make it good, little boy."

"Instead of zombifying us, why not help us and zombify the spiders?" Irwin asked. "Then, you'd have a huge army of zombies, and a huge army of zombie spiders! We'd get our home back, and you'd get zombie spiders! It's a win all around!"

Morg looked at him, intrigued. "Supplement my army of scary monsters and super creeps with some spiders from Mars? That's genius!" Morg grinned. "Little boy, you have a deal."

"So you'll help us?" Jeff asked.

"Just shake my hand and we'll have a deal," Morg confirmed.

Irwin reached for Morg's outstretched hand. Before he could shake, General Skarr shoved him away.

"Ahem!" Skarr said. "I'm the one who will be leading this army, thank you."

General Skarr reached out and shook Morg's hands. As he did so, thunder crashed.

The group looked over to where the sound came from and saw a pair of zombies who had just dropped a sheet of aluminum.

"So, about my army..." Skarr prompted.

"Don't worry," Morg said. "We will unleash the tin machines and diamond dogs onto the spiders that have captured your world! That fool Grim will see me return and bow down, and we can be heroes!"

"We can be heroes?" Fred asked, eyes sparkling with hope.

"Just for one day," Morg confirmed.