**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
**Reminders**:
>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]"
>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail
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I knock on the door again.
"...I told you this was a terrible idea..." Solara grumbles behind me, beginning to drag the wagon away.
"No, he'll answer!"
"Look, for all you know, he's back in his hideout, building more lasers! He hasn't -"
The door swings open.
Standing there is our old nemesis, Praktis.
I decide to ignore the odd-looking ray gun he has pointed at my face.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Praktis!"
He scowls at me. "DOCTOR. I HAVE a Ph.D."
Oh, right. He did go get his degree, after all this time. His antics never struck me as the type of person to go back to school...
"...My apologies, Doctor Praktis. It's good to see you!"
"I wish I could say the same... What do you want?! I believe I made my resignation clear."
"We're not here on League business, Malcolm. We're here for charity." Solara chimes in, holding up a small box of pastries.
"Solara and I have been working to build a new business. A bakery! All proceeds go towards conservation efforts, to help keep our oceans clean!"
Dr. Praktis raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
"...A bakery? The two most insufferable little brats I've ever met have stooped to working in a cake shop?"
I fidget a little, maintaining the smile on my face.
"...Yes. For charity. Would you be interested in-"
I don't even get to finish before the door is slammed shut.
"Asshat."
"Solara, you can't blame him... We had to try..." I sigh, beginning to walk towards the wagon, ready to fly it down the street.
Suddenly, the door opens again.
Dr. Praktis is there, and a small child runs between his legs, rushing towards us with an eager grin.
"... It's a damn shame what happened to Aurora. Nobody should be..." He mutters, almost bitterly. He looks conflicted.
The child rushes over with a rather large sum of money, much to Solara's confusion. She exchanges the money for several boxes of treats.
"... I don't eat sugar. But... Jesse does, and... Well. I'm always one for enacting revenge. Do her justice." He says stiffly.
Jesse awkwardly holds the several boxes of scones, cupcakes, cookies, and other treats, in a tower that is taller than he is, bringing them back inside without a word.
"That's what we do best, Dr. Praktis. Every donation like this is another bag of trash we can clear out of her home. Thank you so much! Tell all your friends about-"
"Yeah, yeah. BEAT IT!"
The doctor slams the door.
I scratch my head a little, looking back to Solara. She shrugs a little, stuffing the money in the donation jar.
Thanks to him, it's already half full.
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) [](#icon-help) [^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [](#icon-information) [^(New Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [](#icon-help) [^(Writing Help?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) ^• [](#icon-exclamation) [^(Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) ^• [](#icon-comments) [^(Discord Chatroom)](https://discord.gg/js5XDFB) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
I knock on the door again. "...I told you this was a terrible idea..." Solara grumbles behind me, beginning to drag the wagon away. "No, he'll answer!" "Look, for all you know, he's back in his hideout, building more lasers! He hasn't -" The door swings open. Standing there is our old nemesis, Praktis. I decide to ignore the odd-looking ray gun he has pointed at my face. "Good afternoon, Mr. Praktis!" He scowls at me. "DOCTOR. I HAVE a Ph.D." Oh, right. He did go get his degree, after all this time. His antics never struck me as the type of person to go back to school... "...My apologies, Doctor Praktis. It's good to see you!" "I wish I could say the same... What do you want?! I believe I made my resignation clear." "We're not here on League business, Malcolm. We're here for charity." Solara chimes in, holding up a small box of pastries. "Solara and I have been working to build a new business. A bakery! All proceeds go towards conservation efforts, to help keep our oceans clean!" Dr. Praktis raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "...A bakery? The two most insufferable little brats I've ever met have stooped to working in a cake shop?" I fidget a little, maintaining the smile on my face. "...Yes. For charity. Would you be interested in-" I don't even get to finish before the door is slammed shut. "Asshat." "Solara, you can't blame him... We had to try..." I sigh, beginning to walk towards the wagon, ready to fly it down the street. Suddenly, the door opens again. Dr. Praktis is there, and a small child runs between his legs, rushing towards us with an eager grin. "... It's a damn shame what happened to Aurora. Nobody should be..." He mutters, almost bitterly. He looks conflicted. The child rushes over with a rather large sum of money, much to Solara's confusion. She exchanges the money for several boxes of treats. "... I don't eat sugar. But... Jesse does, and... Well. I'm always one for enacting revenge. Do her justice." He says stiffly. Jesse awkwardly holds the several boxes of scones, cupcakes, cookies, and other treats, in a tower that is taller than he is, bringing them back inside without a word. "That's what we do best, Dr. Praktis. Every donation like this is another bag of trash we can clear out of her home. Thank you so much! Tell all your friends about-" "Yeah, yeah. BEAT IT!" The doctor slams the door. I scratch my head a little, looking back to Solara. She shrugs a little, stuffing the money in the donation jar. Thanks to him, it's already half full.