Dear Diary,

Today started with what the Boss calls „performance reviews.“ I call it „deciding who gets fed to the sharks.“ Tomayto, tomahto.

Minion #47 was late again. Third time this week. Do you know how hard it is to maintain a proper atmosphere of dread and intimidation when your henchmen show up looking like they just rolled out of bed? Which, to be fair, #47 literally did. Still wearing his „World’s Okayest Evil Minion“ pajama bottoms.

The Boss wanted to make an example of him. I suggested the classic shark tank. The Boss countered with the laser room. We compromised: mandatory attendance at my „Professional Villainy Standards“ workshop. Three hours of PowerPoint presentations on proper uniform maintenance, punctuality, and the importance of synchronized marching.

Trust me, Diary, after slide 47 of „Effective Henchman Grooming Standards,“ #47 was begging for the sharks.

In other news, our doomsday device prototype is experiencing what the engineers call „minor technical difficulties.“ By „minor“ they mean it turned half the testing lab into sentient jello. The jello is now unionizing. I cannot make this up.

The Boss is thrilled. Apparently, sentient desserts were actually part of Phase 3 of the master plan all along. Sometimes I think he’s making this up as he goes. But who am I to question genius?

Tonight’s dinner: Filet mignon with a side of crushed dreams (the catering staff is really leaning into the theme this week).

The volcano is acting up again. Must remember to schedule maintenance.

Until tomorrow, Diary, when I’m sure something equally ridiculous will happen.

– Mrs. Clawdia

P.S. – If Minion #47 is reading this from whatever hole he’s hiding in: Workshop starts at 0700 sharp. Bring coffee. You’ll need it.