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You follow out the suggestions of the impartial third party. Impressively enough, they work like a charm. Everybody suddenly hates them and you look very, very good. Like movie star looks. People are asking you for your phone number in the streets or whatever.

  Sadly, despite the fact that those evil two are now infamous, and that you have magically attained good looks, your life is still in danger.  There’s no way for you to psychically know that they have already plotted their revenge which is now poised to strike.  You don’t have a sixth sense that alerts you to impending doom.  That is why it comes as a complete surprise to the good-looking you when the evil two kidnap you out of your home and throw you into the doom dome.

  "Congratulations our good-looking dictator!" shouts Bill Gates from his position high above you.  "Welcome to my doom dome!  And now for the main event, your painful death at the hands of my robot hordes."

  "Well said, Gates old chum," applauds Chevy Chase from his seat at Bill Gates side.

  Suddenly, a massive iron door opens into the stadium in which you stand.  Out of the door pours a swarm of murderous killbots.  Things do not look good.

Unconfirmed