If I owned Digimon, I would be a wealthy TV executive in Nihon.

It was a peaceful morning in the Dark Masters' new lair. They had lived in Puppetmon's rebuilt mansion since Spiral Mountain was destroyed and they were reconfigured. The mansion had been extended—rooms three times wider with ceilings five times higher to accommodate Metalseadramon and Machindramon. There was now even a large pool within a glass enclosure in the backyard. Here Metalseadramon was sleeping with two female Megaseadramon, when a loud blast ended his slumber.

"Wake up, you oversized garden hose! Do ya know what today is?" His senses slowly regained enough touch with the outside world to make out the figure of Puppetmon standing on the edge of the pool with a French horn.

"Puppetmon! For the love of fish, it's…" Metalseadramon looked at the alarm clock that stood on a table, next to a television, next to a chest of drawers on the pool's right side, barely making out the numbers, "7:13 in the morning!" Metalseadramon said groggily. He called up enough willpower to hit Puppetmon with his tail, sending him flying through the doors. Metalsedramon then forced himself to get up and lock the door, mentally cursing the puppet Digimon for waking him.

"What was that?" one of his barely conscious love slaves asked.

"Nothing, dear," Metalseadramon said as he lay back down, letting the shallow water support his weight. He fell asleep again after coiling his body around hers.

Machinedramon's room was Spartan, in keeping with the silent warrior's lifestyle. He had a single piece of furniture: a small nightstand lay on the left side of a gigantic open grey cylinder. A low power green fluorescent light and a tapping sound like someone punching away at a type writer, which gave the room the air of an abandoned laboratory. Machinedramon was inside the cylinder, in sleep mode. An open compartment on his head allowed a lengthy cord to plug into a rectangular black recharging unit. The recharger had a screen that showed Machinedramon's vital statistics. Puppetmon gulped as he opened the door. He tiptoed into the room—unnecessary since Machinedramon could not wake up as long as he was attached to the cylinder. The puppet moved quietly behind Machinedramon's legs and unplugged the recharger. Machinedramon awoke automatically.

"What do you want, toothpick?" Machinedramon said, mildly exasperated. He could tell it was going to be a miserable day.

"Well ya see..."Puppetmon stammered, looking at Machinedramon's cannons. He couldn't read the metal dragon's face, but knew that if he didn't get to his point soon, Machinedramon would loose what little patience he had.

"Today's my hatching day and—Puppetmon gathered up enough confidence to continue, only to be cut off by Machinedramon's level yet sarcastic tone.

"Congratulations, on making it another year, Puppetmon. I hope that you enjoy your hatching day, but if it's all the same to you, Puppetmon," Machinedramon paused, giving his words time to soak in. "But if it's all the same to you," Machinedramon continued, "I'd prefer if you LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouted angrily.

Puppetmon hung his head low, dejected.

Piedmon, the most effeminate Dark Master, was wearing an apron and cooking gloves and baking crêpes for breakfast when Puppetmon came crying into the kitchen.

Oh great, the clown Digimon thought. He knew all too well what could happen if the puppet's wrath was roused. He would spend the rest of the day stepping on Metalseadramon's tail and Machinedramon's toes—for some reason Piedmon could not explain, Pupetmon who was afraid of being alone with Machinedramon felt he could get away with anything with when the other two were around—and kicking Piedmon in the shins. Better to appease him before he ruined the day for the rest of them.

"Puppetmon, what's wrong?" Piedmon feigned concern.

"Metalseadramon and Machinedramon hate me!" Puppetmon whined.

Tell me something that isn't common knowledge, Piedmon strained to keep his face sympathetic. He gently petted Puppetmon's head, fully intent on putting his glove through the washing machine before he returned to cooking.

"They're not getting me presents for my hatching day!" Puppetmon fell on his knees and covered his face with his hands.

It's the little retard's hatching day? Piedmon was surprised, though, in truth, he never remembered it, even after all these years. Puppetmon whined even louder. It was at this point that Piedmon realized what was necessary to keep Puppetmon from ruining everyone's day: he would have to ruin his own by doing whatever Puppetmon wanted to keep him occupied. His friendship with Metalsedramon and Machinedramon was not worth that sacrifice.

"Puppetmon," Piedmon said gently and patted the distraught puppet's head. This caused Pupetmon to raise his head up.

"Puppetmon, Metalseadramon and Machinedramon don't care about your hatching day because they hate you," Piedmon stopped patting his head and stated bluntly, "and quite frankly, so do I."

The hapless puppet's eyes swelled with tears. He mumbled what sounded like "Why don't you like me anymore?"

Anymore? Had Puppetmon actually believed that they had ever liked him? Whatever his faults, Puppetmon's obliviousness to reality was always quite funny.

"We never liked you to begin with. The only reason that you're a Dark Master is that Apocalymon created you from a Digimon Sovereign's data."

"You mean that you don't really like me?" It was finally soaking in.

"We completely hate you," Piedmon confirmed.

Puppetmon jumped to his feet and slammed his Puppet Pummeler into Piedmon's shins with force. The pain was dwarfed by immense joy when Piedmon heard his next sentence.

"Then I quit!"

Oh, please let it last forever.

At the breakfast table Piedmon had an important announcement.

"Where's the wooden monkey turd?" asked Metalseadramon.

"That's just what I was about to tell you. He quit!" Piedmon laughed maniacally.

"Finally! This is too good to be true!" Metalseadramon paused, doubt obviously creeping into his mind. "Are we sure?"

"Absolutely, I saw him go out the front door myself," Piedmon broke into laughter again. This time Metalseadramon joined him. Machinedramon did not laugh, but if Piedmon did not know any better he could have sworn he saw a smirk on the metal dragon's emotionless face.

A call on Machinedramon's cell phone, which he kept stored in a compartment on his thigh interrupted their fun. "Hai, moshi moshi? Hai. Wakarimasu, Apocaly-sama."

That name caused Piedmon and Metalseadramon to look at each other. What if their creator wanted them to bring back Puppetmon? He would make their lives even more miserable for ending his retirement.

"What is it?" Piedmon asked.

"It's Apocalymon. He wants us to replace Puppetmon immediately, and we can't replace him with your vampire boyfriend."

Metalsedramon breathed a deep sigh of relief. Piedmon could understand, but was also troubled by the new task before them.

"If not Myotismon, then who?" Piedmon asked.

"We have no choice," said Metalseadramon, "however grave the risk, we must… … take an add in the personals!"