Supervillain Mid-Career Retirement Seminar
Volcanic Ash looked down at his leadership manual. It was sourced from the human world, but had solid principles that most top executives swore by:
Chapter 1 Summary - How to Nail the Intro - C.A.N.S.
Connect: share something about the passage of time
Anecdote: humanize with a story or hobby (use humor if setting permits)
Nurture: provide calming validation
Suggestion: offer steps for improvement (use a soft knife)
He shut the manual. This was the fifth consecutive year leading the event, yet he still felt some nerves.
As everyone found their seats, the lights dimmed slightly. Volcanic Ash self-illuminated, just enough to draw more eyes. “Showtime,” he whispered to himself, then flicked on his headset mic.
“Welcome everyone to the 2026 Supervillain Mid-Career Retirement Seminar.”
The applause was underwhelming. Volcanic Ash spun and launched a glob of scalding lava above the audience’s heads. Some of their hair singed.
The glob tore through the back wall.
An older couple from Iowa, returning to their room for their matching fanny packs, peered through the opening. A cyborg wolf in the back row turned and growled. They moved as fast as their New Balances and sock sandals could take them.
Back up front, Volcanic Ash grinned, feeling some nerves subside.
“As I said, welcome everyone.” The reception in the Motel 6 conference room warmed. “That’s better.”
“So,” Volcanic Ash continued, “I don’t know about you all, but I cannot believe it’s almost May. The year’s been flying by. Springtime. I’m a huge swimmer—not exactly a hot tub guy, for redundant reasons. I’ve got an Olympic-sized lap pool at home, and I tell you, when they removed the cover, the water level was lower than Camel Related Man’s IQ.”
A few respectful chuckles came from the crowd.
Camel Related Man spurted a wad of acid spit towards the front. It began melting through the carpet—which technically had been through worse.
Volcanic Ash waved his hands innocently. “I joke, Camel. You know we love you.”
“Before we move through the agenda, I just want to say, and I mean this from the bottom of my rubble, the fact that you’re here, that you’re thinking ahead, taking your mid-career seriously enough to plan? Well, that’s everything. You should all be proud and deserve a round of applause.”
Minimal followed, until Volcanic Ash began forming another lava glob.
“So, just a quick housekeeping note. Out of forty-six attendees last year, we only had eleven fill out the survey. I’m not calling anyone out, but feedback helps us improve. In theory anyway. It takes just three minutes and means a lot. If you need help with writing implements, I’m looking at you, the wormy fella in a fedora, just flag down an intern. That’s all.”
Volcanic Ash clicked to the next slide. “Alright. Breakout sessions are divided by room.”
He read off the screen:
He was interrupted by Yellowing Conch from the front row. “The Motel 6 doesn’t have an Ambassador Room.”
“Damn it, Conch,” Ash said. “We put a placard outside the front door of each entrance.”
Yellowing Conch sat back down, his massive wet tongue hit the floor.
Volcanic Ash glanced down at his lanyard. It still read 2028. He made a mental note to eviscerate his latest assistant.
“One more thing, please be respectful of other guests on your way to the breakouts. We don’t need another Toledo.”
See you soon,
—Ricky C.