Jerrald looks around in the darkness, pleased that his vampire senses don't require boring old light to see things and this gives the director an excuse to shoot everything in green 'night vision'. He's in another large cave with what look like tables against all the walls. Somewhere off to his left is a fire-escape staircase leading up, and on the opposite side of the cavern to that is what looks like a fireman's pole. Lapdancer's pole if you ask me.... He takes a couple of steps forward, intending to look for a light switch, but the mad scientist Dad scientist, now, surely? has found it first..
The lights come on with a loud clunking sound just like stage floodlights and Jerrald blinks a few times. Up on a gantry joined to the staircase is the dad scientist, his hand resting on a gigantic knife switch that obviously controls the lights to the lair. As featured in Martha Stewart's Living, January issue. He ignores Jerrald and walks along the gantry, his footsteps clanking loudly, towards a large computer console covered in flashing lights. Jerrald takes the opportunity to hurry underneath the gantry where he won't be seen, and can still see what the dad scientist is doing by peering through the gaps in the gantry floor.
"They called me mad!" says the dad scientist apparantly to himself. "I told them that people would eat wallpaper paste if I dyed it yellow and called it processed cheese, but they called me mad!"
"You fiend!" shouts Jerrald, unable to contain himself at this dreadful revelation. The dad scientist looks around the lab, everywhere but below the gantry where the shout had come from.
"Who's there?" he says, a slight tremor in his voice. "Simpsonkins, is that you?"
Hearing his name as the cue, the lava-coated zombie British butler lurches through the wall without bothering to open the secret purple brick first, spraying the set - I mean, secret lair - with plaster dust.
"Master," drones the butler, and sees Jerrald hiding like an elephant in the corner beneath the gantry. His eyes glowing red, he lurches forwards, hot, smoking arms outstretched, still intent on the murder of his erstwhile master.