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A short story inspired by 'that' Sloth piece in the art gallery...

'What people don't tell you before entering the criminal underground, is that it's not easy being an evil overlord. They don't tell you about the sacrifices you have to make. Sure, I have hundreds, if not thousands of grundo slaves obedient to my every command... but I still feel alone. I can't be myself. People think my life up here on the Space Station is easy. They think I just stay in my study all day and plot. Maybe boss some puny grundos around... and yes, I do plot, and boss the grundos around, but I also have to maintain this imposing presence, which is quite difficult. I can't be my true self... Damn Mira and those neopets. Thwarting me at every turn... if I could just take over, Neopia would be a place where people could be imposing, and be their true selves, and not have to hide behind long dark capes, and deep scary voices.' Sloth sighs deeply and wanders to the edge of his desk, picking up his cup of black coffee. 'Fyora, I hate coffee. But the damn grundos think tea is for "weak" rulers. They won't even give me a sweetener for this bitter brew.' Sloth moves the edge of his robe away, exposing a long, smooth, muscular green leg, tipped with an elegant black heel. He grins down at the sight of his manicured feet and the graceful Lupie-boutons. 'One day,' He thinks, taking a sip of that disgusting black coffee, 'we'll all be free to be ourselves.'