A machine that creates focused black holes? What could be better? You send away for it. Now, in just six to eight business days, the world will be destroyed.

* * *

Six to eight business days later, you remove your Broncoslamer’s Black Hole Generator from its box. You take the packaging peanuts and put them in a large bag in the back of your closet. (It is well-known that packaging peanuts are the single most evil thing in the world. Any decent villain will have a large supply of them on hand at all times. Sending someone a box filled with nothing but packaging peanuts is a crime punishable by death in nine states.)

Grinning madly, you turn the machine on. It lets out a gentle hum, and some lights begin to blink on and off merrily. You frown. This is not the way a death machine ought to behave.

You give the machine a sharp kick. The lights blink themselves into a frenzy, and the hum intensifies into a teeth-grinding whir. Now, this is more like it.

Before you can do anything else, you experience an extreme pulling sensation.

* * *

As it turns out, everything scientists thought they knew about black holes was completely wrong. Black holes aren’t the life-ending gravity traps we always suspected. In fact, they have a gooey chocolate center. For hurtling the world into a new plane of deliciousness, you receive an award for your service to mankind. They gave you a plaque. You scowl. You hate that plaque.

Try again, Loser!