Rocketman

“My power is infinite!” cackled Dr. Demonic, rubbing his hands together and throwing switches on a complicated console, the highlight of his dark, evil fortress. “The world will bow at my feet!”
“Infinite?” I shook my wrists. “Then why am I handcuffed to your Doomsday Missile?”
The villain growled. “Okay, so the chairs from Ikea didn’t have arms. And they had wheels. My finest moment, ruined by a hostage rolling around the floor? My powers of improvisation are infinite!”
He hit the launch button, and was incinerated by the rocket’s exhaust.
I didn’t have long to chuckle at his stupidity.