Why does Jack Spicer want to rule the world? There must be something behind the madness. This is my theory.

A ten-year-old Jack Spicer sat in the middle of his room, a wrench in one hand, and a screwdriver in the other. Bits and pieces of one of his first robots lay scattered on the carpet.

Stupid defective robot. He thought bitterly. To think that the thing he had been so proud of exploded in his pale face, turning it soot black. He thought his parents would understand, maybe even like it. Then again, when did they ever like anything he did?

His parents were always out. In the mornings, it was always the same thing. "Now Jackie dear, be good for Mrs. Beasley." His mother would say as she applied her make-up heavily. Mrs. Beasley was his nanny. She didn't really watch him though, she mainly ate and slept.

His father never said anything to him. Except, of coarse, when he was telling him that he should be more like his older brother, James. "James always stands up for himself. Why can't you?" he would say.

But, his neglectful parents weren't the only problem. He was bullied frequently. He was smart, too smart for words. That was one of the reasons he was picked on. Another one might be his size.

He was small. Not short small, but skinny small. He couldn't play sports to save his life.

His school routine was worse then his parental routine. Ever morning before school, the kids would throw things at him and call him names I dare not repeat. The only people who seemed to like him were the teachers. One in particular, Mr. Conner, the shop teacher.

Mr. Conner almost seemed to fill that empty void that Jack's father left. He would watch Jack handle the tools with great ease. He would mold and cut and shape excitedly. "Jack m'boy," the balding man would say, "You've got the magic touch. Some people take this kind of stuff for granted, but you treat it like it is, an art."

Jack would beam with pride. He didn't get compliments often. "Yes sir, you're gonna go places with those hands of yours."

I guess that's what started the whole mess. It really got him thinking. Every time he built something, it wasn't just there; it had to have a purpose. And most of those purposes weren't good ones.

But, that wasn't the only thing that made him who he was. No, there was one more factor to his world domination kick.

One afternoon, as he was getting up from being pushed into the mud, he noticed a girl watching him from a safe distance. She cautiously walked over to him.

"Are… are you okay?" she asked, extending a well manicured hand.

"I guess." He muttered, getting up slowly. "Did you come here to laugh at me too?"

"No," she replied. "I came here to help." There was a long pause. "I see what those kids do to you. Why do you let them do that?"

"What do you mean 'let them'? It's not like I want them to do it." Jack scoffed.

"Well, that's what it looks like." She answered. "You don't do anything. You just take it."

"Well, what can I do?" he asked.

"For one thing, you could at least tell them to stop." She sighed. "Or avoid them at the least."

That's when he recognized her. He had seen her in the halls, talking and laughing with her many friends, flipping her golden brown hair back and making everyone stare. She was popular, the one thing he wasn't.

"Why are you telling me this?" Jack wondered.

"I… um… I-I have to go. See you!" she said quickly, running to catch up with her friends.

"So, what was that all about?" one of them asked.

"It was nothing." She replied. "Let's go."

And that was the day that things started to change for Jack Spicer. He started ditching school more and more until he stopped going altogether. All the while, he thought of what that girl had said to him, how she reacted to him, like he was some convict she wasn't supposed to talk to.

Well, I'm going to follow your advise. He thought triumphantly. I'm not going to let them push me around anymore. Besides, who can tease you when you rule the world?