I was one of two members of a martial arts combat team known as The Sundays. We chose that name because the other member of the team was Harriet Wheeler of the musical group The Sundays.

Our task was simple: ride up and down in an elevator kicking every machine-gun toting mad scientist that dared to enter. Oddly enough, there were plenty of them.

We had a nice assortment of file cabinets and bookshelves to hide behind (so we could jump out and catch them by surprise) considering we were in an elevator. We also had our trusty basset hound named Jesus who would sit in the corner and watch us do our thing. I'd say the best part of it the whole thing was riding from floor to floor and watching the door open only to hear the mad scientists yell "Egads, it's THE SUNDAYS!!" before we thoroughly kicked the science out of them.

I must confess, though, that after riding up and down that building just to be shot at by long-white-coat wearing madmen, I was getting a bit bored. That's quite the monotonous routine, you see. Harriet was fiesty as ever, though, so I kept going for her sake. I mean, she was totally jazzed to be there, so I wasn't going to say "Harriet, I'm getting tired of this. Can we leave?" Nope, she was having too much fun. So we stayed there and continued kicking people.

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