"I'm sorry to say, sir, that the numbers are not looking good. Ratings are down across the board, particularly in our mutant-related programming."
Six metal legs clattered across hard steel floors as Mojo turned to face his chamberlain, Major Domo. "WHAT?!"
"I'm sorry, sir, I'll repeat myself. All our viewing figures are down, especially the bloodsports. People aren't watching what you're showing. Perhaps Genoshan Shore simply isn't exciting enough for a twelfth season."
Mojo turned back to the wall of screens. In the Mojoverse, he was ruler and producer, but that only lasted as long as people were watching his programming, and if Major Domo was telling the truth (and he was, he was programmed to), they just weren't.
"If I might make a suggestion, sir? Perhaps it's time for some new shows."
"Well, sir, you may recall we saw a very encouraging spike in the ratings the last time we made a show with the X-Men in it? Well, our technicians have recently discovered a number of what appear to be parallel versions of the planet Earth, each with their
"Hmm. The X-Men, you say?"
"Yes, sir, the X-Men. Or one of these many alternate Earths?"
"The X-Men. Yes, I like it. But didn't you say bloodsport numbers were down?"
"Almost 30 percent, sir. But, if I may anticipate your next question, we're seeing small but significant surges in the numbers on programs of a sexual nature. And, if I may be frank, it's been a very long time since the Body Shoppe was allowed to do anything
beyond their normal parameters. Some of the scientists are beginning to feel restless."
Mojo smiled. A brilliant idea was forming in his head. But first, he needed a cast.