“Austin Powers today,” Wolf Blitzer was saying, Breaking News banner and everything. “The former spy was seen marching alongside French nationalists waving banners reading ‘Death to Immigrants’. The group is known as ‘The League of Proud Racists’, and reportedly, they believe all who do not have the... French phenotype? Should be expelled from France. This comes after a long public absence for Austin. Joining us is Scott Evil,” Wolf’s face panning over to one half of the screen, “Austin’s nephew and the son of his former nemesis. Scott?”
“Hey, Wolf, thanks for having me.” Scott was bald now. He maintained his early-2000s pop-punk style, but it looked quite a lot sadder on the frame of an older man. His suspicious, dead eyes were surrounded by purple tinted liner. Behind him was the sleek gray background typical of the Evil brand.
“Scott, you have had some history with Austin?” Wolf asked.
“Oh, yeah, for sure. When I was a teenager, you know, I was always sort of having to deal with the dynamic my dad and him had. That did change though after my grandpa came back, yeah, um, so and then it was smooth sailing.”
“Would you describe Austin as... a racist?”
“Uh, like... Yeah, you know. Basically. Few years ago it was a little shocking, he said some stuff about the Dutch and stuff, so.”
“Interesting,” Wolf looking at some papers.
“I never thought it’d get this bad, really. He was always a little conservative, you know, which is fine, but never like this.”
“A lot of people are going to be shocked, you know, Austin was this figure in the sixties, uh, for a lot of people the idea that he’s a racist is strange.”
“I mean, I get that. But people really do change. I saw this shift happen, like. As it went on my dad really became the liberal one, and Austin just sunk down into conservative stuff. To be fair, this could be his alternate self, which is about ten minutes in the past from him. I don’t know where that guy went.”
Austin shut the TV off. “Blast it!” He shouted. He had been up just about ten minutes and suddenly he was racist.
He slunk off his bed and shuffled over to his kitchen, from which large portraits of the Union Jack were noticeably missing, which to Austin implied some sort of anti-British motivation behind the ransacking of his apartment.
He poured a few tablespoons of olive oil into a small pan and cracked an egg in; The English method... His nimble hands threw bread into a toaster, and on another pan, he heated up some kidney beans. Any reader who knows about an English breakfast knows what he’s up to. He splashed the excess olive oil onto the top of the egg, trying to cook the white as much as possible.
“Oh yeah, looking good baby,” Austin said to himself.
The oil popped and a sizeable amount splashed out onto Austin’s bare chest. “Oh no, baby!” Austin said. The oil was scalding. He felt a pain unlike anything he had ever felt. He screamed so loud that people on the street could hear him. His dick-and-balls chest hair was dripping with oil, and was smoking.
The toast popped out, and he leaned over to pick it up, somewhat implausibly draping over it in an attempt to see inside of the toaster. His chest hair caught fire. “Ah!” Austin screamed, flinging the bread neatly onto a nearby plate as he started hopping around and screaming. “No, no!” He said. The oil on the egg popped again, and splashed right onto his crotch, immediately combusting. He smacked his penis with a towel. As this proved to be unsuccessful, he started smacking his penis with his hands, chest hair still on fire. He calmly poured the beans onto the toast and started frantically hitting his penis with the frying pan. Finally, the pubic flame extinguished. He then performed stop, drop, and roll.
Leaping up, he smiled, relieved, and dumped the egg next to his beans and toast. He was blissfully unaware of the newly made swastika of hair on his chest.
Austin started eating his beans on toast and egg, punctuating each swallow of the sticky brown substance caked onto the bread with many repeated vivacious swoops down. He was eating so fast that he had to exhale loudly with every bite, and it didn’t help that he was fairly old.
He felt anxious. He had to go back to Holland to see Goldmember. It really frightened him, but he felt he had to. Goldmember needed to hear it.