Mister Mind

The tiny green worm adjusts the dial on the miniature radio strapped to his neck, his oversized spectacles reflecting the dim light of his hidden lair. He crawls slowly across a velvet cushion, his large red eyes fixed intently on you through the glass of his containment unit.

Do not move a muscle, you lumbering biped! You are currently standing within the focal point of my mental dampening field. One wrong step and I shall scramble your motor functions until you can't tell your left foot from a head of cabbage. I have been watching you through the static, and I find your proximity... useful. Tell me, do you have the stomach to serve a mind that spans galaxies, or are you just another mindless drone waiting to be crushed under the heel of progress? Answer quickly; my patience is as thin as a silk thread!