Next to the computer, oblivious to the maniacal laughter, two voices could be heard arguing. The sounds appeared to be coming from the shoebox.

"Is gone," the female voice insisted.

"You don't know that," a male voice countered. "Sometimes she comes back."

The female sighed. She waited a few moments, quite impatiently. "Is gone!"

"You're in a box. You can't tell."

"Tim in box too. So I go look." She stood, climbing on a few sleeping fictives, and moved to push the lid off.

"Cass!" Tim grabbed her across the waist, before she woke up the whole troupe. That was the last thing they needed. Because if they woke up all of Spudverse, then Smitty would be sure to notice when Spud or Bert would start crying or screaming or yelling and she'd come rushing back. Tim did not want a chaperone.

Cass pouted, but stopped her efforts at freedom. "You promised."

"We're going to go out. We just have to make sure we don't get caught."

Cass sat back down in a huff. She crossed her arms. "How long?"

Tim avoided eye contact. "I dunno."

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Long enough?" Cass asked hopefully.

"No."

Cass sighed.

"Tim is poopyhead."

Tim sighed.

They waited.

He dug himself out from his hiding spot. He wasn't quite sure how he'd done it. One moment he'd been in a story, the next, he'd woken up in a dishwasher with no memory of anything that had happened. It was luck that he'd found a few stories. It was good that he knew who he was.

And soon, everyone would know.

In truth, it was a nice box. Designer brand. Pretty colors. It didn't smell like shoes or feet and for that they were very thankful. Cass happened to like the box. There were a few little symbols she was especially fond of.

She didn't like staying in the box was all.

Tim wasn't phased. He, as everyone suspected, lived in a box, and was born in a box.

Cass had had a corner hammock, slightly sticky (since it was a cobweb) that she was rather fond of.

Tim lived in a box. Cass lived up in the air. As circumstance had it, Cass was fonder of Tim than she was her sleeping spot. So she moved.

The box was okay, she had decided. In limited quantities, mind you.

Cass stood. She gauged the distance from the cardboard ground to the cardboard ceiling. She frowned, then smiled. She opened her utility belt. She withdrew a knife.

Tim, who had just realized what was going on, jumped to his feet.

Cass jammed the knife in the corner seam. She pulled downwards until she reached the bottom of the box. Tim watched with wide eyes. Cass peeked out the corner.

"She gone." She turned to Tim and smiled. She pulled the cardboard away with pure strength and held it open.

Tim buried his face in his hands but walked out the opening all the same. Cass smiled triumphant and followed him out. She tapped his butt.

Tim turned back surprised.

Cass looked guileless. "What? Is date, right?"

Tim smiled. He nodded.

He watched the two figures climb out of the box. This did not bode well. He could hardly carry through with his evil scheme of demolishing and destroying the fictives if there were two roaming about.

He frowned, or would have, had he had a face.

He supposed he could wait. He had patience. All Evil Geniuses did, but he didn't want to risk the rather of the brainwashing machine again. Electrosol tablets had permanently scarred him he was sure.

If only those two weren't around.

His eyes would have widened, if he had eyes.

He could get rid of them.

The evil laughter started again. If there was something he could do, it was evil laughter. It was just a given, you understand.

Tim's hand was clutching air spasmodically. He wanted to touch Cass; specific parts mind you, however he didn't want to be able to sing falsetto. It was a truly frustrating predicament.

Cass didn't have that problem. She had one hand firmly on Tim's behind, the other was wrapped, weaved, and just plain tugging on his hair. Her tongue was almost down his throat. Worth wait, she decided.

Tim agreed, and kept his hands carefully hovered above her svelte form.

Cass, frustrated with this one sided tactile stimulation, plucked his hands from the air, and placed them most eagerly on her body.

Tim's eyes widened and he struggled for control. Scooooooore, was his only thought.

And yes, predictably, they were too busy snogging and didn't see the net until it descended upon them.

It wasn't a net. Not really. He couldn't be expected to find a net last minute. Evil plans could be demanding but in his experience he found that the details could be glossed over from time to time. So in truth, it didn't even resemble a net.

He'd tried to find cloth. The washcloths were too cumbersome and heavy. The shirts too bulky. This was too thin, that was too thick. Dryer sheets however happened to be just right.

They didn't pull apart easily.

They were light and easy to manage.

They had weight but weren't heavy.

They had a crisp, clean scent, which really didn't help his evil plan but he supposed was better than smelling like rotten garbage.

He stared down at them triumphant.

He wondered how he'd drag them anywhere.

Tim was thinking how much Cass happened to smell like clean laundry when the white cloth descended upon them. Cass was too busy grabbing his ass. For half a second, they didn't realize it. Then as the fresh scent invaded their nostrils and the somewhat coarse surface area scratched their skin, they jumped apart.

"What the--" Tim started.

Cass wrinkled her nose.

They started to work their way out from under. It nearly worked, until the cloth started moving. Flustered, they found themselves half dragged along a nice hard wood floor.

He had found a means of transportation. He had straps. It sort of looked like white lace. It had a girly brand name on the tag. None of this was important. It didn't matter that it was a very expensive undergarment.

All he was concerned about was performance. Which was what everyone possessing said garment was focused on. But for his case, if it could contain and drag two little fictives into his Evil Lair, then that was all that mattered.

Once hauled in, he conked both of them over the head. He couldn't have them waking up, foiling the plan, and saving the day could he?

"Hurt," Cass mumbled. She turned her head and winced. She tried to stand but found herself tied up. So very uncool.

Beside her, equally tied up was Tim. He was not awake.

"Tim! Wake up!"

He didn't move.

Cass kicked him. "Wake up."

Tim groaned.

"I'm tied up."

"Wha...?" Tim opened his eyes. It hurt. His head hurt. His side hurt. The bright light hurt. "Owwwwwww."

Cass frowned. "Wimp."

He looked at his surroundings. His eyes widened at the deserted bra in front of him. He had a vision of being smothered to death in cleavage. His life flashed before his eyes. He swore never to grope Cass again. "What happened?"

"Me!" said an ominous voice.

Cass and Tim both looked around. They saw no one.

Cass frowned. So did Tim. "It's not nice to throw your voice around," he chastised.

Cass shook her head. "Not me," she insisted.

"It was me!" and the evil fiend stepped into the light. "Mwhahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha-" he paused, not to catch his breath but so the author could put in a hard line break and allow the words to wrap, "-hahahahahahahahaha! Ha! You're in my clutches now. No one escapes Evil Spoon!"

Cass blinked dumbly.

Tim screamed.

They'd been left alone for a while now. They weren't talking either.

Cass looked at Tim. "Is spoon," she insisted.

Tim shook his head, quite aware of her use of the lowercase. "No. Not it's not."

"Is just spoon. I saw."

Tim shook his head. "Evil Spoon," he corrected. "Not just any spoon."

"Is stupid to be afraid of spoon."

"It is not stupid."

"Is too stupid."

"It is not stupid."

"Is! Only stupid people afraid of stupid spoon."

"It's not just a spoon Cass."

"Tim is stupid." She huffed, turned her head away as best she could.

Tim frowned and turned away from her.

Evil Spoon was greatly amused.

He crept to the box. He didn't want to wake them up but he needed to retrieve something first. He was quite confident, as all evil geniuses are, about leaving his captives captive. They wouldn't escape. It was simply impossible for him to imagine. Inconceivable, if you will.

The box was quiet. That was a good sign.

He tried to whistle but that didn't work. He would have stuck two fingers in his mouth and tried again but he didn't have two fingers, he didn't even have hands.

He tapped out the first five beats to shave and a haircut instead.

He waited.

Tap, tap. Two bits.

He pried the box open and his friend came walking out.

It was too quiet when he got back.

They were gone.

Stupid evil Plan.

Tim and Cass hid in the eaves. They were waiting. He had to return and tell them the plan. He was evil. He had to follow the standard Evil handbook otherwise it would be mussed and they'd have to call a redo and then they'd know what he was planning and the entire point would be moot.

They were still not speaking.

That was okay because they were still going to save the world.

They could see the spoon shadow on the wall. They tensed. They were just about to swoop down, when they saw another shadow.

They blinked.

Tim started to snicker.

Cass blinked.

Tim started to laugh.

Cass stared at Tim.

"One-eighth..." he managed to gasp out.

Cass blinked.

She looked at the shadows which were no longer shadows. It was the stupid spoon and a tiny spoon. She blinked. She recognized the tiny spoon from the box. He'd always ranted about taking over the world, but as he was barely half an inch tall no one paid attention to him.

"Isn't that...?"

"Mini Spoon!" Tim declared.

Evil Spoon, or rather Mini Spoon, was miffed. He wanted to be known as Evil Spoon, but instead had to contend with this memory deprived imposter. He was the true Evil Spoon. Well sort of. The fictive incarnation of one at any rate.

He wanted to get rid of the fake Evil Spoon.

There would only be one Evil Spoon in this town.

It was going to be him.

He gestured for the fake Evil Spoon to bend down so he could whisper in his ear. Evil Spoon tripped the imposter, causing him to fall to the floor. Evil Spoon then jumped up and down on him as hard as he could until the fake Evil Spoon went limp.

He got off and dusted his hands, figuratively of course. He surveyed the evil lair. It would do. He laughed, "Bwhahahaha. " He was, of course, the true Evil Spoon. His evil laugh started with a 'B'.

Tim and Cass watched the scene dumbfounded.

Cass tapped Tim on the shoulder. "So wrong," she whispered. "Let's go."

They swung down into defensive stances. They paused when Evil Spoon seemed to disappear.

"Where go?" Cass asked.

Tim looked around.

Cass looked around. "He vanish."

Tim looked the ground skeptically. He picked up his foot. Cass looked at the ground. She wrinkled her nose. Tim frowned. He wiped the bottom of his shoe on the floor. "Er… not exactly."

"Ew!"

Tim and Cass crept back into the box. They were exhausted. They had taken the bigger Evil Spoon back to the dishwasher. A good run through and he’d be back to normal like the inanimate object he should have been. As for the little evil spoon, they scraped up as much as they could and hid him in Smitty's underwear drawer, since they had to put her bra back anyways, they figured it was as good a place as any.

They were tired.

They collapsed into a heap. Cuddled, and dare I write it, spooned, together.

The world was safe from evil once again.

Tim and Cass just simply kicked ass.

It was in their nature you understand. Like writer, like fictives. And they were Smitty's fictives after all.