Monday, May 4, 2015

How I Became a Mad Scientist- Episode 7




She had big brown eyes and silky smooth fur all over her head and torso.  A tiny pink udder hung from her belly, and instead of legs she had slimy tentacles. They wove themselves around my fingers, and she climbed into the palm of my hand.  I decided to call her Bessie.

 “Ooohaw,” she said again.  Her soft tongue licked my finger, and I giggled.

“Would you stop making those ridiculous noises?” Frank snapped. “I’m trying to adjust this microscope so I can show you a Kraken-cow!”

“I see the Kraken-Cow, Frank,” I replied. I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Bessie was adorable and she kept tickling me with her tongue. “In fact, I think she’s hungry.”

“You’re insane,” Frank said. He still didn’t look up from the microscope. I was holding a miracle in my hand, and he was too busy looking at dead things to see it.  I tiptoed up behind him and brushed one of Bessie’s tentacles across his neck.

“GAHH! What the heck?” He screamed and turned around. Then, he saw Bessie and froze.
“What is that thing?” He gasped. 

“A Kraken-Cow, apparently,” I said. “I think she’s hungry, but I’m not sure what we should feed her. Fish? Milk? “

Frank stuttered. ‘What? But? How? Huh?”  He shook his head. “We have to get rid of that thing. If anyone found out about it, we’d be in huge trouble. The experiment wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

“OOHAW!”  I could tell Bessie was really hungry. I decided to give her some milk. After all, she was sort of a baby cow, right? And baby cows drink milk.  I held her cradled in one hand while I poured milk into a bowl with the other. 

 I dipped my fingers in the bowl and let her lick them, like I’d seen some of my friends do with calves.  Then I lowered them into the bowl. Within a few moments, she was lapping up the milk. 
She drank most of it, and then let out a loud satisfied burp.  Her eyes closed, her tentacles went limp, and her squeaky snores filled the silence.

“You have to get rid of it,” Frank said again.  “Flush it down the toilet. Throw it in a ditch. You can’t keep it. Your mom will flip out, and I’ll end up in jail.”

“I’m not killing Bessie,” I said. “You won’t get in trouble. I did all the work. I’ll just tell mom I learned about it on the internet or something.”  Bessie’s tentacles felt a little dry. I needed to get her into water. Or maybe hay. A cow could love a squid, but where should they build their nest? 

Next Episode.

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