The gaudy leg-less alien in the tattered robe commanded his soldiers to bring forth the means to his diabolical end. And lo, the black and crimson creatures came, each carrying a sacred totem in each arm. With majestic grace, the alien overlord seized the metal implements that he would use to bring his grand design to fruitition.

Tense silence filled the vastness of the Black Comet. Every Black Arms spawn, soldier and underling held their breath.

Black Doom picked up the totem and the metal implements; a ball of yarn and a pair of long knitting pins, and he spoke to his children.

"Behold! Long have we awaited this opportunity. The time is now. On this day we shall knit the ultimate perfect sweater, a testament to the supremacy of the Black Arms."

Much silent applause followed, because although the Black Arms people really liked this sort of thing, cruel nature had evolved them without mouths to speak. Not that it would matter anyway, since none of the aliens spoke English. Why Black Doom did the lingo was anyone's guess.

Black Doom started knitting, slowly. This was where their species' awesomeness really showed. While those pathetic humans had to contend with just two measly eyes, Black Doom had three to see exactly what he was doing. Sure, the humans had nearly twice as many fingers, but honestly who really needed five fingers? Three was fine. Three was an excellent number. Much better than five. Humans really sucked. Stupid humans. It was a consensus that all Black Arms agreed with, even tough most of them had two eyes as well, but since they didn't have pupils, theirs were obviously better.

Bit by bit, the threads were woven together by Black Doom's expert wielding of the metal pins. Black Doom talked some more. He was a guy who just really liked to talk. Not too surprising since he seemed to be the only one around with vocal chords.

"With each turn of these weapons greater length of this thread devised by human hands is conquered by our superior power and molded as we choose. Soon all these human balls of yarn will be unraveled and rewound to the will of Black Arms."

More applause. The boss was totally in the zone. Entranced, the army of aliens watched their leader demonstrate his incredible incredibility. Some of them were starting to raise lit lighters above their heads as a sign of reverence. A group of gelatinous spawn on the ground used their tentacled mouths to raise a homemade Black Doom rules banner over their heads. Of course, since their heads were just a few inches off the ground it didn't make that much difference, but it was still pretty cute of those kids.

Things were getting more tense by the minute. Black Doom seemed to have finished an arm and was now beginning on the nerve-raking task of creating a turn in the fabric so he could start on the middle bit. A few female members of the audience started biting their nails, but then awkwardly remember that they didn't have mouths or fingernails...or genders. It was more embarrasing for the couples in the back who'd been trying to make out a moment earlier. Inability to do that kind of...well, stuff, didn't make them any less superior to humans, of course.

"Witness our triumph!" Black Doom exclaimed suddenly. Yup, he'd done it. A perfect turn in the fabric. This master plan of his was really coming along well.

The colours of the sweater so far were of course black and red. They were the best colours of all. Not that any other colours wouldn't work as well, as the Black Arms were self-proclaimed to be omni-fashionable. They were simply genetically incapable of not lookin' good. Seriously. Even 80's style fashion couldn't bring them down. They literally oozed of style. Well, they literally oozed, anyway (should really pick up a couple of boxes of tissues next time they visit Earth).

Black Doom's kniting was poetry in motion. You could really tell how the pain of the artist's soul transferred to the work. And there was pain. Pain of loss and betrayal. Sure, this alien overlord was completely perfect in every way, but that didn't transfer well to his ungrateful kid. Half the time he wouldn't listen, even when Black Doom threatened to send him to his room without supper. Plus, there was that one time the kid blew up the whole comet and nearly doomed the entire alien race to extinction, and that sort of thing was just not fine and dandy in this house. Oh, and not to mention running off with the family jewels. Black Doom had tons of gaudy jewelry, as you could easily tell by looking at how he dressed, but the ensemble just wasn't in vogue without those seven coloured jewels hovering over Black Doom's horned head to get the chi right. Yeah, okay, except for that thing about the now-disowned son and the missing jewels Black Doom was perfect in every way. Yeah. Totally.

Oh yeah, the sweater. It was coming along fine. Two-thirds done now.

The Black Arms had plenty of reason to resent humanity. The one time they let that Gee You Enn army onboard the comet, those jerks backed up the public toilets and flooded the entire comet with acidy goo. They had to ride around on those circular hoverboards for days just to get around until the plumbers fixed the problem. Awful day, that was. It was almost as bad as when that spoiled brat of a son brought his punk friends home and let them mess things up all over the place. Before the security staff could do anything about it there were hedgehogs and echidnas running wild and ruining the furniture.

Of course in all fairness the Black Arms did blow up those cities and cause a lot of harm to the environment of Earth, but anyone who saw how tacky the place looked before the Black Arms stepped in would have to sympathise with their cause. For one thing the whole planet was an eye sore that ruined the view from Mars where Black Doom kept his summer apartment.

Okay, back to the present. The alien audience held hands and bit their lip- did NOT bite their lips as they watched Black Doom go through yarn after yarn. There was just no stopping him now. In just a few moments the Black Arms would be the proud creators of the best darn sweater ever made by a sentient creature.

But then... No! It couldn't be! The calculations had all been perfect! How could they have tallied too few balls of yarn? They were just one short of success and suddenly the stores were empty.


Black Doom threw the unfinished sweater on the ground in disgust. Shaking his fists he yelled in frustration, the shock of defeat having blistered his dignity.

Disappointed, the fans rolled up their banners and put out their lighters, a few of them wondering where in the world they got those. The Black Arms went back to their regular affairs. Ah, well. Maybe next master plan.

And far away on Earth, Black Doom's rowdy rebellious teenage kid grinned wickedly as he clutched the stolen ball of yarn in his hand. Shadow the Hedgehog was such a naughty boy...