When the sun sets, Jim Bob, I turn into a Supervillain.

Not that I'm not a super super supervillain already. I am. I am the shizz. I'm a hot ticket, too. But at night, I become even morecrafty than Macaroni & Cheese.

Why is this bad, Jim Bob? I bet you're dying to know. Your paper heart is thumping away in sheer suspense! …Or sumthin'. Anyhoo, the bad thing about being a capital-S-upervillian is that I can't show my real identity. Because Supervillains can't do that. So I don't get to take credit for all of the awesome things I do.

So, Jim Bob, I in the car with Ryou as he drives me home. Yes, I know there's no verb after "I," but who needs one? I'm gangsta! That means ignorance! Anyhoo, so I bein' driven' home. After all, that's where my Supervillain costume is. Once I get home, I've got to change into it while "To The Threshold" by Hatebreed sounds rebelliously in the background.

My Supervillain costume is the shizz! I don't care what Malik says. It makes me look AND feel pretty! The earthy tones of my (forest green) nylon cape really set off my eyes! And my hat is comparable to that of Darkwing Duck! Ha ah! And Malik flouted me! What a retard!

Anyway, so, once I get home, I'll change. Usually, I would go and bother the Pharaoh, but today I think I'll try something different. I should try to find… that girl.

I shouldn't tell Ryou about her. Many friends (if I had any) would give me smiles of approbation if I hinted that I, Bakura, wanted to… date girls, despite my hair flamboyantly hinting that I may be gay. Which I'm not. Ew. To assuage these rumors, I would get this girl to… to… to like me! Yes! And we could form a grand coalition against the Pharaoh! And we would preach of the wonders of decadence and expostulate with the ignorant masses for being pure and for listening to hackneyed Britney Spears music!

…E, x, p, o, s, t, u l, a, t, e… that's eleven letters! No one can say I'm not smart.

So, I'm taking a hiatus from embittering the Pharaoh. Besides, I'm out of boa constrictors, so there's nothing fun I could do to him anyway. …Unless I had whipped cream. That's not an innuendo; I'd put it on his hair. With some pigeon poop. That might be interesting. He's go nuts.

So… where on Earth can I find that girl? Did she even say her name? …Did she say the name of that person she was with?

…Colton.

Colton's an unusual name. How many Colton's can there be in Japan, after all? I mean, what a weird name. Why doesn't he have a normal name, like Tatsuya or Ichiro or Yuu—no, Yuugi is not a normal name. I hate that name! It stings… it burns…

…What the heck are we listening to?

"Girl I've been shaking, sticking and moving tryna get to you and that monkey, tryna get to you and that monkey, tryna get to you and that monkey."

"A monkey? Just what on Earth is this? A zoo?"

"The radio, Bakura," Ryou says, lessening the volume a bit. "And I'm glad you met a girl."

"…You've been reading my thoughts!"

"-.- You've been thinking out loud."

"Oh." Well that's embarrassing…

"I would suppose so."

"Dang it!"

We come to a red light. Ryou floors the pedal, raging past the intersection before even I can make the tiniest guttural noise. He just ran a red light. Ryou can be pretty cool sometimes. I must be teaching him well. My evil is interceding his purity, like Yugi tackles Yami when he's about to do something stupid. H-He he he…

As if sensing my approval, Ryou makes sure to stop at the next red light in plenty of time. He emits a jaded sigh. My vocabulary rocks.

"So what are you going to do?" Ryou asked. "Give her flowers?"

Flowers? My lurid blossom deserves nothing less than a severed head as a gift!

"…Your lurid blossom?"

"Dang. Did I say that out loud, too?"

"Yeah…" Ryou grins slyly at me. "Well, I'll un-ground you if you're actually trying to find some female company. That's meritorious enough. Just make sure she has a cute friend."

Is he kidding? I really thought Ryou was a 2—you know, bi but leaning more toward the opposite sex, sort of in that grey bisexual area.

"You—are—still—talking—out—loud," Ryou says in a steely voice. What's his problem? Man, is he peevish. There's nothing more annoying than a petulant host.

"Living with you, it's my prerogative to be in a constant state of agitation," Ryou says. "You have the most provincial… uhm… okay, that word doesn't really work in this sentence."

"Nice try, though."

"Yeah."

"So… uhm… I'll help you," Ryou says. "In fact, let's simulate a conversation."

Ah. Stupid boy has nothing better to do at a stoplight than pretend he's a pansy girl. Well, fine, I'll bite. As politely as I can muster, I say, "Hello, my name is Bakura. What's yours?"

"Bite me." I glance at him oddly. "Well, that's probably what she'll say, if she's as lurid as you say she is."

I smile. "Yes, yes, that is what she'll say! Of course!" Ryou chortles at me. Gah! He's laughing at me! And I thought he'd transcended pansihood and was becoming closer to the evil being that he's meant to be. Apparently my umbrage was incorrect.

"I can't believe I got you to say 'Hello, my name is Bakura' in a polite manner," Ryou giggled. He's giggling! For Ra's sakes! He was being unctuous and earnest to help me so that he could laugh at me! The witch! Yes, he is too girly to be a warlock! He's a witch! He's ugly! He's… he's…

He's laughing harder.

I hate him.