The James Bond movie that Jeff Bezos wants to see

Maybe billionaires seeking world domination get a bad rap?

Does this look like an Amazon employee to you?

James Bond fans were stunned by the news Thursday that Amazon MGM Studios had bought creative control of 007 for $1 billion from Barbara Broccoli and Michael Wilson, who had been the cinematic caretakers of Ian Fleming’s iconic secret agent for years.

As Amazon takes the reins of the 60-year-old franchise, I thought about what sort of James Bond movie Jeff Bezos would like to see. Maybe it’s time to put a friendlier face on billionaires who want to rule the world?

His arms bound behind him, James Bond was pushed roughly by his nemesis’ top henchman. He stumbled forward into an impossibly large and lavish chamber, full of uniformed guards milling around. Priceless works of art hung on the walls, and Bond could see great white sharks swimming beneath the all-glass floor.

He was hustled forward to a gigantic desk, emblazoned with the villain’s logo. A high-backed leather chair behind the desk faced away from him. The chair slowly rotated, revealing a bald man in a fleece vest, jacked beyond all reason, absent-mindedly petting a pile of money in his lap.

“Blofeld,” Bond said ruefully. “I should have known.”

“Bezos, actually,” the bald man said. “Jeff Bezos.”

“Bezos is a pretty good supervillain name,” Bond mused. “But ‘Jeff’? Can you imagine ‘Jeff Goldfinger’ trying to rob Fort Knox?”

“Goldfinger was small-time,” Bezos scoffed. “All your previous opponents before me were small-time. Blofeld? One secret lair inside a dormant volcano? I have four of them all over the world. And this isn’t even the biggest. I’m just here because the other three are being cleaned.”

“It doesn’t matter who you are,” Bond hissed. “You’re a supervillain bent on world domination. And it’s my mission to stop you.”

“I see myself as a little more ‘super’ than ‘villain,’ personally,” Bezos said. “But I can understand how you might think that, especially as a public employee. I’d like to try to enlighten you, though. Hopefully, you’ll see things my way.”

Bezos waved a muscled arm at the uniformed henchmen hustling all around them. “I’m a job creator,” he said. “Do you think any of these people would have jobs if I wasn’t here? Do you know what the employment market is like on a remote island with a dormant volcano? It’s like Little Chute, Wisconsin.”

“Jobs doing evil,” Bond sneered.

“Good paying jobs doing evil!” Bezos said. “They even get lunch breaks, on most holidays. And they get to ride a monorail around the office. A monorail! Do you think a mom-and-pop store offers its employees monorail service?”

“What kind of great boss has killer sharks swimming under his office?”

Maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh . . .

Bezos shrugged. “What can I say, my kids love them,” he said. “And the trapdoor chute keeps crapping out, anyway.” He signed. “The upkeep on this place is unbelievable. Do you know what the overhead is on a dormant volcano? And the Wi-Fi is really spotty.”

“Serves you right,” Bond said. “You want to control the world. That’s the definition of evil.”

“Is it, though?” Bezos said. “Think about it. Total world domination means everything under one roof. It’s convenient for the customer. You could buy a martini shaker, a tuxedo bow tie and a Walther PPK on the same order. And if you’re a Prime member, it ships for free.”

“You villains always love to tell me your evil plans,” Bond chuckled. “It never fails.”

“It’s literally been in all the papers,” Bezos said. “Except mine, at least. Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to threaten you, 007. I want you to join me.”

“Join you?” Bond said.

“Aren’t you bored at MI6?” Bezos said. “They send you out on a mission, what, once every five years? Join me and I’ll guarantee two missions every year, plus a spinoff series, mobile game, theme park. Whatever you want!”

“Next thing you’ll promise is a reality competition show.”

“We tried that,” Bezos said, shaking his head sadly. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“You’re wasting your breath,” Bond said, folding his arms. “His Majesty’s Secret Service is not for sale.”

Bezos stared daggers at Bond, then leaned forward and pressed a large red button. Bond felt a slight vibration under his feet, but nothing else happened.

Irritated, Bezos shook his head at an underling. “Honestly, why even have the trapdoor? It just makes me look like an idiot.” Collecting himself, he leaned forward, steepling his fingers in classic supervillain style.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bezos said calmly. “Because I already bought you. M and Q were happy to give you up for the right price.”

“What do you mean, you bought me?” Bond said, panic starting to rise in his throat. “I’m James Bond. Nobody owns me.”

“I do,” Bezos said. “I own your intellectual property, your IP. I control everything you’ve ever done and everything you’re ever going to do from now. I can do whatever I want with you now. I can make you fight Jack Reacher in Middle-Earth if I feel like it.”

Bezos snapped his fingers, and the powerful arms of his top henchman clamped around his shoulders. As the henchman started to drag him away, Bond tried to wriggle free. But it was no use.

“Do you expect me to talk?” Bond shouted.

“No, Mr. Bond,” Bezos said, his grin widening from ear to ear. “I expect you to buy.”