I laugh mockingly at these piteous, infantile beasts. The monsters mankind has dreamed of are nothing more than stunted children. I will teach you what true terror is.
As always, since the beginning of time until the end, none of you are safe.
I have now reached 1,000 minions, a feat made through blood tainted corn starch, manipulative taste buds and sheer terror. I expect each and every one of you to be buying popsicles in bulk now that it is summer, the time of the year when I am at my greatest power. Give each and every child you meet one of these fabled popsicles, that they may know ...pain. In one out of every thousand popsicle boxes, there will be a hidden message that only my minions can decipher. Read this message and act accordingly. Remind others that underneath their blankets of comfort, they are not, and never have been, safe. Spread the word on the streets, let them know of their own vulnerability. Bear your popsicles as sugared swords against the heat of the sun and let the sweet, simmering juice drip down your fingers until it burns the concrete. Answer to me, and only to me, discarding false idols. Build towers of popsicle boxes and fortresses of popsicle sticks; drown the unbelievers in tang and grape. Those who would laugh when faced with you standing alone with your popsicle in the face of a gun will soon fall into the mighty crush of watermelon and the slow, acerbic death of cherry. Feel your strength rise as the summer sun blazes and the days grow longer. Never forget, however, that even as you work diligently for me, even as you shed blood and sugar tears...none of you are safe.
"In all seriousness, sometimes when I'm writing Popsicle Pete he knows I'm there."
Correct you are, my scribe. I see and hear all, whispers or screaming. In my presence it's mostly screaming.
Nine hundred minions have now been forcefully recruited, as well as there being a new comic glorifying my visage. The feast shall be underway, you must only unwrap your popsicles and it shall...begin.
I am already planning the glorious feast once I have reached 900 minions. Continue recruiting and threatening. The Council will approve your deeds, and you may not be made to eat the flesh of your children at our celebration.
This "Andrew" is most certainly not safe. He writes falsities and blasphemy under my name. Let it be known that he will pay for such treason.
As we approach the holiday called Valentine's Day, I have already packed and shipped candies full of various poisons and the bones of infants. Nothing says love like dying a slow, painful death.