I'd dress 'em up in Neddie Jingo uniforms -- straw boaters, Tattersall vests, white sack suits (after Memorial Day) an' string ties with the "NJ" crest on 'em. Arm garters. Sharp!They'd follow me around, awaiting my every nefarious bidding. I'd tell 'em, "Do this! Do that! Beat up that superhero! Rustle me up some eggs!" And they'd do it, 'cos they're my henchmen. They'd have to. Help with the yardwork, too. Vacuuming.
They'd hench like it was going out of style. Henching, henching, all the livelong day. I'd pay 'em good money, too, for their henching services. Give 'em a percentage of the take. It's what good arch-villains do. Good henchmen don't come cheap.
In my lair high atop Gotham City, I'd gather my henchmen around. "Lefty," I'd say, "Is the Jingomobile gassed up? Have you polished the chrome on the Atomic Osterizer that we may accomplish world domination in style and elegance?" And Lefty would grit in his Bowery growl, "Yeah, boss." "Highpockets, have you phoned Commissioner Gordon and and guilelessly informed him of the spurious rash of break-ins in the Diamond District, that every blue-clad boobie be bamboozled into browsing for bogus baddies?" And Highpockets, agape at my alliterative skill, would reply, "You bet your bippie, boss!" "Then, henchmen, let us unfold our evil plans! Away! Careful of the tilted floor! These camera angles are murder!"
Or maybe some dacoits. Turbanned demons from the deepest reaches of the Subcontinent, maddened on hashish and heathenism, awaiting their master's every depraved command. Yeah. Dacoits.
13 comments:
Henchmen have a union- the UHOA. Dacoits can still work under the table, so essentially it's tougher to get some good henching than dacoiting. Also, a movement is afoot to rename them henchpeople. Yeah, if there's hashish to become maddened from, well, I'm in.
Th' Henchmen- another boss band name.
exxplopx- when you don't make it all th' way through th' porn video.
Ha ha ha ha ha.
I reached the rank of Vulture in the Dacoit Scouts, so maybe I could teach you some cool knots or something. Of course, we learned to tie them in the intestines of our enemies, but you could practice with one of those long Italian sausages.....
I think you'd do better with a bunch of halfwit bumblers, like our friend Al Swearengen.
That way, you'd look really smart as you stood around brooding and throwing back shots of whiskey.
This is my favorite part:
"Careful of the tilted floor! These camera angles are murder!"
Hee-hee-hee.
TGIF, Jeddie!
I'd suggest including a lascar, for those speedy harborside getaways (maniacal laughter optional), and a silent levantine or two. You can't beat 'em for natural lurking skills. And a disreputable associate with underworldwide connections, known only as The Professor.
That should complete the set.
I've got some business cards around here somewhere...
It occurred to me later that I'd also need an Andaman Island cannibal with a blowpipe and poison-tipped arrows, in case I needed some quiet wet-work done on, oh, I dunno, a pesky retired colonel of the Thirty-fourth Bombay Infantry named Thaddeus Sholto. Or something. Keep that under your deerstalker, OK?
And an Indian butler named Lal Rao.
Nah man, you just needs you a posse of "huge, 20-stone men."
Ah, our cultural ambassadors. "This is how it goes down in LA"...
Clocking the recalcitrant chappie on the bean with his truncheon, the bobby replied, "And this [thump] is how matters proceed at Heathrow, sir."
Then you would undoubtedly need the mapping services of a Ronin Geographer and "The Dirk Gently Group" - an offshoot of Doug Adams':
The Dirk Gently Holistic Detective Agency
We solve the whole crime
We find the whole person
Phone today for the whole solution to your problem
(Missing cats and messy divorces a specialty)
33a Peckender St., London N1 01-359 9112
For more info and to contact the Washington office: http://www.postnormaltimes.net/blog/archives/2005/02/in_memoriam.html#more
Dude.
Seriously.
Get some sleep.
The thing about henchmen is that they're so easily knocked down, flipped on their heels, and beaten to a pulp when the superhero arrives on the scene.
Usually only takes one punch, too.
Then it's a showdown between the superhero and the villian. The villain laughs at the superhero's knowledge of his plans, and reveals a much more extensive blueprint . . . . and oh my god! look at that blinking red light! it's happening in two and a half minutes!
As the hero reacts, the villian contrives a quick escape, probably in a spaceship whose launchpad lies under a thick hatch of jungle vegetation.
So, really, I like you much better as Al Swearengen. You can curse at people, fuck shit up, feed dead people to pigs, and wreak your havoc right under everyone's nose, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it, excepting those territorial fucks in Yankton.
I know that I, personally, would rather be pouring shots of whiskey and lying down with Trixie than battening the hatch of my cryogenic time capsule.
Oh, sure, it's all fine and good to have a few ethnically-authentic henchers (the preferred gender-neutral term, at leas this week), preferably with unique personal weapons such as a razor-sharp money clip, but don't hesitate to fill out the ranks with the henching bargain of the century: ninjas. Yes, I know, they're completely played out--which only means that they can be had for fire-sale prices. Some of them are reduced to being hired by junior high school kids for cafeteria turf wars, and they're desperate for employment by a class act such as yourself.
Unfortunately, many of them insist on their traditional weapons and garb, which could make for some embarrassment at your next Secret Society of Supervillains meeting. However, I believe that if you convince them that balaclavas are the next ninja hoods, you could pass them off as some Ulster paramilitary group--the Prhual Regiment, perhaps.
I don't think I'd make a good henchman. I'd more likely end up a dead red shirt on Star Trek. One a'those expendable crew members - at least they never went out of style.
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