Rapture!

Secret Agent 86, Maxwell Smart, was kidnapped by Kaos. Conrad Siegfried, in one of his most twisted, heinous plots yet, had decided not just to get Smart, but to condemn him eternally. Since Kaos was on schedule to put the Beast (a.k.a., Da Craw) in power soon, Siegfried decided to deal with key leaders of the forces of good by having the Mark of the Beast[tm] indelibly tattooed on their foreheads.

In a speech to his minions, Siegfried gloated, "Ve vill zhow zem zat evil alvays trumps goot!" The minions, still unable to fathom their leader's accent, all nodded sagely and hoped it didn't matter.

Siegfried hired the most despicable tattoo artists on the planet, artists who made gang bangers look like your Aunt Petunia. Unfortunately for Kaos, Siegfried didn't realize that most of these artists were illiterate.

One such tattoo artist, Inky Dreads, was sent into the room where Max was duct taped to a dentist's chair. "Why a dentist's chair?" Max had asked. Siegfried had shrugged. "Ve got a goot deal on zem!"

"Now, Inky," Siegfried purred, "put ze mark of ze beast on Schmart's forehead, a bright, red, six six six!"

Max winced. "Couldn't we go with something a bit more subdued? Perhaps a nice flesh tone? Or at least a pastel blue?"

"NO!, roared Siegfried. "Red, red, red! Ze color of blood! Ze color of wine! Ze color of six six six on your forehead!"

"Would you believe I'm violently allergic to red tattoos, and that if you do this, I'll become a bio-hazard and wipe out your headquarters?"

"No, Schmart, I don't theenk so."

"Oh. Well, would you believe that I'll sneeze a lot and my nose will run, and your chair will be all nasty?"

"No!"

"OK, how about my eyes will water? The salt can't be good for this chair."

"Eet is ze finest Zherman stainless seteel! Unlike your backbone, vhich seems to be made of rubber chickenz! Inky, do it!" Siegfried turned neatly on his heel and stormed from the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Inky was through. Sure enough, Max's eyes had watered. "But it didn't hurt, I'm allergic to red."

"Suuure," Inky replied. he held up a mirror for Max to see his forehead.

"Wait! That's not six six six! That's six six five!"

"What?" Inky stared. "Oh, great. I gotta get you outa here before da boss comes back and sees this!" He whipped out a knife, sliced through the duct tape, tossed Max over his shoulders, and chunked him out the window into a flower bed. "Now git!" Brushing his shoulders with dignity, Max got.

Weeks later, on May 21, the rapture hit. On his way up, Max passed Siegfried, who was skydiving. Siegfried screamed in shock and rage. "How can you be raptured? Ve tattooed ze number on your forehead!!!"

Max grinned and pointed to the five. "Missed it by that much!"

Thanks to Harold Camping, Cindy Howard and Sheila Arinder-Shaw for the inspiration. I suppose I should note that the latter two have no association wit the former, and that it was their joking about the former which really inspired this. Also, Blondie's "Rapture" was playing in my head the entire time I was working on this.