Damn, it was hot. The Pouch couldn't sweat, one of his many similarities to dogs, maybe that's why he always got along with dogs so good and leaned on them for support in social situations, but it was probably for the best. He didn't want to even imagine what it would smell like if all of his pouches started pooling sweat on a hot day. That would be rank. It wouldn't be practical to apply some type of deodorant to the interior of ever pouch, even that full body stuff the close talking lady had been shilling on the TV. Of course, this wasn't a hot day, this was the criminal hideout of SoyBoi and all that heat was coming from the giant steam pot he was firing up so he could kill the Pouch in it once and for all. First, his minions had finish stuffing the pouch with a variety of fillings.
"Why don't you just kill me, SoyBoi, why the elaborate process?" the Pouch had asked.
"Thematic consistency," SoyBoi had answered. "I'm going to leave you out on the streets of your beloved neighborhood, reduced to a lifeless mass of dumpling, stuffed with pork, because I know you don't care for it. That ought to show all the haters how evil I am!"
"SoyBoi," the Pouch had answered then, "that's just some dumb rightwing meme, it's not about you, nobody has been talking about you all this time."
"Well, they'll sure be talking about me after this heinous crime!" SoyBoi shouted. He'd clearly been practicing his evil inflections, probably a voice coach. The Pouch tried to make a mental note to investigate if any members of the local theater community was helping out his improbable and often ridiculous collection of enemies. He wasn't looking to punish anyone he found, contemporary culture's treatment of the theater had done enough of that, he just wanted to understand their motivations and maybe flip them as an informant. If he could find out who was practicing their evil talk, maybe he could intervene before they did any crimes. Being honest with himself in these, that might be his last moments, he realized that his only interest in this plan was to bring it up to Mary Sew in yet another attempt to impress her with his crimefighting skills. Mainly he'd established himself as the type of hero who could take a helluva beating, but he also wanted her to think of him as a thinker, as someone doing the work to address the greater issues of crime and not just absorbing the damage once it was too late.
"Boss, we've got all the chive in there, is the pork ready yet?" one of SoyBoi's underlings asked.
"Not yet, it must simmer for another ten minutes," SoyBoi said.
"Does it matter? I mean, nobody's gonna eat this guy, it's just for the bit, right?"
"How you do anything is how you do everything!" SoyBoi shouted, striking his minion so hard that several small crumbs of bean curd broke off of SoyBoi's hand. This did not go unnoticed by the Pouch. Apparently the steam was softening his tofu form, definitely moving him from extra-firm to a softer state. If he could stall, the Pouch thought, he might have a chance of getting out of this. The Pouch focused all his energy on digestion.
"There's practically no chive in any of these pouches!" SoyBoi screamed, now striking the other minion who happened to be nearby, again losing a number of crumbs from his hand while doing so, but seeming to not notice.
"We stuffed it in, like you said," the minion said, cowering a bit, but not too much. It didn't look like that blow was particularly painful.
"Luckily I have extra chive for just such incompetence. Go fetch it from the store room. I will oversee this batch of stuffing."
The Pouch knew that he couldn't digest while they were stuffing or they would notice and maybe knock him unconscious. Also, he didn't want anymore chive, he was all chived out and doubted in a very serious way whether or not he would ever be able to enjoy a chive again. The serious steam also seemed to be softening the noodles that they'd used to bind the Pouch to the legs of the stand that the enormous steamer sat upon. A few more minutes and it was very, very likely that he could break free.
"So, I know the pork is because you've found out my distate for it, but doesn't it upset you to work with meat? I mean, aren't you a vegetarian or something?" the Pouch asked, knowing the answer in advance and only stalling.
"No, you moron, I eat meat! Tofu isn't just for vegetarians, that's a hurtful myth, but not one that hurts more than this!" SoyBoi said, striking the Pouch and in the process now losing the whole hand to a pile of crumbles that fell on the floor. "Oh no, the steam seems to be impacting my firmness, hurry up you morons, we have to wrap this up quickly," SoyBoi yelled to his minions. Then, turning to the Pouch he said, "Seriously, you never heard of Ma Po Tofu? It's served with pork. You know, it wouldn't have hurt you to have educated yourself when you were still alive. Then again, I guess there wouldn't have been much point as this was going to be your final outcome either way," said SoyBoi.
SoyBoi then leaned over, gathering up the largish crumbs that had, until very recently, been his right hand. While thusly leaned over, he noticed the other bits of himself that had fallen off while previously. Once he'd gathered up pretty much all of his crumbles which he awkwardly held in the crook of his left elbow, he pulled out a large wooden contraption that rolled on squeaky wheels and just managed to get the lid up before tossing the bits in. The Pouch figured out pretty quick that this was SoyBoi's press, the place where he'd mush himself back together after a period of activity. This would explain why he wasn't overly concerned about losing a hand.
The Pouch tested the now remarkably overcooked noodles that held him fast and found them so soft that they fell apart with even the slightest effort. Still, he remained as he was, waiting for a better opening, the minions had returned, dragging large burlap sacks full of chives. Setting a sack on either side of him, the minions each took a handful of chive and reached in to separate pouches. The Pouch flexed these pouches, trapping the hands of the minions, and then, arms free in an epic flex that sent noodle bits flying, the Pouch knocked the minions' heads into one another, knocking them out cold. He stood up, releasing his hold on the minion hands so that their unconscious forms slid to the floor.
"Okay, SoyBoi, that has gone as far as its going to go. We can do this the easy way, you give up now, or we can do this the way I'd much prefer where I smash the shit out of your soft body and then load up you press with a generous helping of my shit and reform you into an entirely new villain called ShitBoi. Your call buddy," said the Pouch, pissed off enough to sound like he really meant it and not entirely sure that he didn't mean it, the abundance of chives he'd digested were making their way towards the exit in what was primarily an orderly manner, but there was some urgency there.
"You're all talk, Pouch, and even in my soft state I'm more than man enough to kick your ass proper. Let's dance!" SoyBoi yelled. Unfortunately for SoyBoi, it was he that was all talk. Even the process of stepping forward caused his leg to break off below the knee, sending him face down onto the floor, causing him to break up into several pieces, not a dramatic shatter, just a sort of meh crumble.
Crisis averted, the Pouch turned off the big steamer. The whole notion of SoyBoi reforged with the addition of his own feces idea was tugging at the edge of the Pouch's mind, and while that would be satisfying on some level, it weren't particularly heroic on any level. Also, who knows what the result would be. Perhaps his pouch-poo would somehow strengthen SoyBoi, making him an even greater challenge in the future. Also, fighting with him would be pretty gross. No, it was better to do the right thing and collect up as much of him as he could and turn him over to the authorities. The minions looked familiar, they were probably free lance. A little time in prison would help them make connections so that maybe they could minion for a better criminal. The Pouch sighed and called the police.
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