NOTE: This is not the "Dr. Eggman" you're used to. This is Dr. Robotnik from "The adventures of sonic the hedgehog." This version seemed to fit with the story more.

"I…am Dr. Ivo R-r-r-r-r-r-obtonik!"

The seven hundred pound man screamed into the telephone, spit shooting out and dripping down the receiver.

Yes, you heard him, kids. He is Dr. Ivo Robotnik. The most evil and greatest genius in all of Mobius, maybe the world. A 300 IQ, no one could top that. A bachelor's degree in evil brilliance. Oh please, he finished that in only a year, while it took his inferior classmates four years. Oh yeah, and who couldn't forget the legion of robots he programmed to obey his every command – you know anyone else as smart, as evil, as beautiful, as Dr. Ivo Robotnik? Don't make me laugh!

For years, the citizens of Mobius have cringed from the smiles of Dr. Ivo Robotnik, his evil genius face towering over them on large monitors. He would say something ridiculously evil, tweak his mustache, giggle to himself, proclaim how 'evil genius' flowed through his luscious veins, giggle some more, proclaim that he is the 'Great Dr. Ivo R-r-r-r-r-r-r-obotnik', and turn the monitors off to a hopeless, depressed Mobius.

Dr. Robotnik had it all – right in the palm of his hand. He could stroll through the cities and point to random people to lick his feet. And if they didn't, why, he'd simply snap his fingers and his loyal robotic minions would sack the little disobedient scum. Oh yes…Oh yes! He was the great Dr. Ivo R-r-r-r-r-r-r-obotnik!

But, oooooo…Sonic…he destroyed his ambitions! His schemes! His ultimately evil schemes! That poop-head just…came out of nowhere, zipping through Mobius like he owned it, out-witted every single one of his ultimately evil robotic minions, and had the nerve to barge right into his glorious and evil domain and insult him. Dr. Robuttnik? Dr. Robuttnik?! How dare he! It's Dr. Ivo R-r-r-r-r-r-obtonik!

The mad doctor was very sensitive about his weight, especially his butt. After that horrendous encounter, every night he would slither under his blankets and pillows, and weep into his mustache. Oh, the sorrows! What could he do about his enormous butt?! Why couldn't anyone accept the fact that he had just a small, glandular problem? (He all ways reassured himself by bulldozing spoonful after spoonful of lard into his mouth.)

Hurt, dejected, and insulted, Dr. Robotnik formulated another "evil genius" scheme – only to be crushed by Sonic, once again. And again. And again…AND AGAIN!

Dr. Robotnik would cry and beat the ground in frustration, eat his computers, hammer his minions out the window...no matter what "evil genius" recipe he had cooked up in his beautiful, intelligent mind, that…that hedgehog would squash his plans like an irking mosquito. ARGH!

Then one day, Sonic received an invitation to the Super Smash Bros. league, where some of the most respected, courageous, heroic, and understanding beings from all the universes concentrate into one, giant mansion and duke it out, determining who brought their A-game and who crapped theirs down the toilet. As far as Dr. Robotnik knew, the Super Smash Bros. was welcomed by all, and the business flourished faster than a field of weeds. It was the point where all the universes intersected, a feat that had only existed in their dreams. And now, people of all races could join hands and celebrate the beauty and tranquility of one another, trading goods and creating businesses that boomed their economies, lavished their worlds with warming families, and ended the long-term evil of war once and for all.

Yes, sure, this is all great, whatever. But, it's all lies. LIES! Why, you may ask?...

BECAUSE DR. IVO R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-OBOTNIK WAS NOT INVITED!

There was absolutely no excuse. His persona reeked of respect, courage, heroism, and comprehension of others – why did they choose to ignore him? How could such a place ring with such brilliance and augment to such a powerhouse when he, Dr. Ivo R-r-r-r-r-r-r-obotnik, was not there to make it that way? Rubbish!

Those quacks needed to be roboticized. Or at least have this simple equation drilled in their senseless minds: 'Super Smash Bros. + Dr. Ivo Robotnik = Success!'. That equation cannot possibly work without the key ingredient – Dr. Ivo R-r-r-r-r-r-r-obtonik!

Then he learned that on every Sunday, tryouts were being held for those who thought they possessed the potential to be a member of the Super Smash Bros. league. Of course, Dr. Robotnik heaved up his chest with two hands, groomed his mustache, changed into his red-and-black jumpsuit, and sucked in his butt. How could they not induct him into the tournament? Why, just one look at him would have those quacks on their knees, pulling at his legs, begging him to join them, please join them, they would not be a success without your "evil genius", Dr. Robotnik.

That's, at least, what was supposed to happen…

They ridiculed him, poked fun at his weight and butt and mustache. He felt like he was in a boiling cauldron, being steamed into a soup, the others hovering above him and sprinkling their ingredients of insults on him. This was not the way it was supposed to be! They actually forced him to complete the obstacles and the challenges! Why did he have to do it? He was too intelligent for such petty games. And not only that, he had accomplished each and every one perfectly! And still, they rejected him!

(Actually, Dr. Robotnik did horrible. His jumping distance was a measly two centimeters, his agility and speed were as flabby as his butt, he could not fit through the man-sized doors, his only special move consisted of him rolling around on the ground like an egg, he could not control his temper and insulted everyone's religion, race, and family – when no one insulted him from the start. Overall, he was too unsportman-like, trying to cheat as much as possible. Like the one time, when he had to race through an obstacle course in two minutes; instead of running through it, he ran around, bypassing it entirely, to the finish line in five seconds, pumping his fists in the air and exclaiming to the heavens that he was the great Dr. Ivo Robotnik.)

Stupid gloved hands. Stupid doctor. No fair.

They will rue the day when they insulted Dr. Ivo R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-obotnik! Those hands think they're sooooooo cool. Oh, and that doctor? Phl! He's nothing…says he nearly invented a cure for every known disease. Who would want to respect someone like that, helping other people? That doctor will fall to his evil hands first…

Dejected from both his attempts on ruling the world and his rejection from the Smash league, Dr. Robotnik returned to his lair, sulking in his bedroom, weeping about his butt and eating tubs of ice cream. This continued for days, tub after tub of ice cream…

Until one day, he received a strange call.

"Yes, I am Dr. Ivo R-r-r-r-r-r-r-obtonik!" he repeated, the receiver now soaked from his phlegm and saliva.

*****

"Who do you think he's talking to, Scratch?"

"Sh! Grounder, I can't hear with you flapping your nuts and bolts!"

Scratch donked Grounder on the head and turned back to peer around the doorframe. Who could Dr. Robotnik be conversing with on the phone? Only very special calls were picked up in the bedroom. Hmm…

Scratch and Grounder were Dr. Robotnik's minions, intentionally designed to be the perfect robots. Scratch was a tall, gray humanoid chicken, while Grounder resembled a small green tank, with conveyor belt-like wheels for legs, drills for hands and nose, and a dome-like head. Appearance-wise, they were mighty and dangerous, possessing gadgets and gizmos of all degrees. But…well, let's just say that a few screws were loose in their heads…

But the two at least had the sense to know that only very important people called Dr. Robotnik in his bedroom. And to not interrupt him when he was busy.

"And just, who ar-r-re you?" he taunted to the phone.

Pause*.

"What?!! You?! The gr-r-r-r-r-r-eatest?! Impossible!"

He screeched into the phone and jammed it back to his ear, his reddened face bulging with anger.

Pause*.

"Enough of this nonsense. What is the –" Pause*. "Oh. You have a plan to take over the world? At the Smash Mansion? And you want my help?"

As he said this, his mustache curled up into a smirk, his voice beaming with pride.

Pause*.

"Good. Very good. Ha ha ha! That's genius. Evilly genius!"

The egg-shaped man squealed like a little girl, licking his lips and patting his stomach. One would have guessed that he had just finished a large Thanksgiving dinner.

Pause*.

"And Sonic?! Would we get him too?" Short pause*. "Excellent! Excellent! What do you call this…"

Pause*.

Confusion splatted on Robotnik's face. He held the phone down to his side, looked at it like he had never seen a phone before, scratched his head, and returned it to his ear.

"The Army of Darkness? Hm…Not bad…Not bad at all…"

Pause*.

"Who doesn't want r-r-r-r-revenge on that dr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-readful place? You know something is amiss when two gr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-reat individuals like our-r-r-r-rselves are tr-r-r-reated as scum."

What? Since when did Dr. Robotnik ever consider someone else as an equal? Has all the fat from his butt travelled to his brain?

Still looking at the doctor, Scratch lowered down to Grounder, "Who on Mobius do you think he's talking to?"

Grounder tapped a drill to his head, eyes glazed over in thought.

"The pizza guy?"

"No, you imbecile. Why would he be making evil plans with the pizza guy?"

"Well, Robotnik loves to eat."

It was Scratch's turn to tap a finger to his head. "Yea…that does make sense…"

"Scr-r-r-r-ratch! Gr-r-r-r-r-r-ounder! I command you to enter my bedroom!"

The doctor's words scorched through the walls, embodying the robots in a wall of flame. Uh oh…they've been spotted…

Whenever Scratch and Grounder screwed up one of Dr. Robotnik's evil plans (and that was every time), the doctor rewarded them for their work. Like, verbal abuse. Or a wrench to the face. Or he'd sit on them and wriggle his butt on them, grinding them into nothing but pulp.

But when Scratch and Grounder entered the room, they were greeted by a sneering egg.

"I just got off the phone with a very important person. A person that may be all most as great as I am." He tweaked his mustache as he said this, and then continued, "I have just formulated a new evil plan to take over not just Mobius, but all the universes! Ha ha!"

He pointed at them. "I need you to make some important calls for me. And you can't screw this one up, or you're really going to feel the wrath of my butt!"

Scratch and Grounder gulped. The chicken saluted him and asked, "Uh, you're Putridness. Who should we be calling?"

The mad doctor handed him a small slip of paper. "Call these numbers. Tell them that I, Dr. Ivo R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-obotnik, have formulated an evil plan, that I want them to join the "Army of Darkness", and…"

Scratched and Grounder nodded after every sentence, his words computing into their brain chips. When he was finished spluttering his story, Grounder poked a drill in the air.

"Uh…how many r's are in your name, your fatness?"

"Gr! Just get out of here!"

*****

"Yes, of course. I would be honored to slice their throats open with my sword. Tell the doctor I'm with him."

*****

"Mmm…Yes…perfect. I will twist their neck, crack their skulls…I shall join. Tell the doctor he has the authority to direct my powers."

*****

"Oh boy! I'm so excited! I've all ways wanted to take over the Mansion! None of the kids wanted to play with me! This will be so cool! Tell the doctor I'm with him! Yah!"

*****

"Pichu!"

*****

Scratch and Grounder rushed back into the bedroom, the doctor sitting on his bed eating a delicious tub of Robotnik-flavored ice cream.

"Scratch reporting, sir. Phone numbers called. All accept your invitation, sir."

Dr. Robotnik slurped up the last of the ice cream and chucked it over his shoulder. He lifted his evil hands to his evilly sneering face, and tapped his evil fingers together…evilly.

"Ah, yes. Everything is going according to plan." He stood up from the bed and gestured the robots to follow him.

" Come Scr-r-r-r-r-atch! Come Gr-r-r-r-r-rounder! We must go to the Smash Mansion."

As I said before, if you paid attention to the story thus far, you should have an idea who the mystery caller was. And if you know, keep it to yourself so other people can try. And what about Mario's mystery guest? And Luigi's destiny? And whatever happened to Wario? And Peach vs. Kirby? It'll all come together…