You all definitely pulled out all the stops when giving me your words! I’d like to think that I have a good vocabulary, so I’m not about to admit how many of your words I had to look up. The words given to me have been bolded and linked to the responsible party (scroll over and the name will pop up).
Oh, and when you kept giving me nerdy words, I had no choice but to make my characters nerds! Enjoy!
“Boink!” Frank said, hitting Nelson on the head with a plastic beaker.
“Why’d you do that for?” Nelson scowled, totally missing Frank’s unoriginal onomatopoeia.
“Why’d you eat my organic peaches after I just got made at you for eating my cupcake? I left them macerating in the fridge, not for you to eat when you got your afternoon munchies! Stop coughing on me…I’m already coming down with the flu!” Frank only ate organic, because he knew what a bunch of chemicals can do to an animal…his chickens were living proof. He also tended to be a bit of a hypochondriac, especially now in his latter years.
Nelson’s habit of eating Frank’s food only exacerbated the poor relations between them. Working fifty-hour weeks side-by-side, just the two of them and a dozen transgenic chickens, can do that. Everything about Nelson annoyed Frank: his greasy combover, his need to always have the last word on every “discussion” of Battlestar Galactica, the DeLorean he drove, the way he always smelled faintly of cotton candy. That said, he was the best research assistant he could hope for, as Nelson had both enough knowledge of genetically-altered lab animals and electric circuits. If he was ever going to find a way for chickens to generate usable electricity, it was going to be with Nelson’s help. And of course, there was that other thing.
“I’m sorry, Frank, but they just looked too scrumptious. Here, have the last…” Nelson didn’t get to finish placating his co-worker as the lab suddenly was filled with a splendiferous light.
“What…what…is…THAT?” Nelson managed to blubber out, entirely discombobulated. The light slowly faded until he, Frank, and presumedly the dozen lab chickens, were sitting in the dark.
Oh, no. It’s finally happened, though Frank. What a breakthrough! I can’t tell Nelson yet, though. “Uhh, uhh, maybe it’s a pterodactyl?”
“That’s not funny! What do you think this is, Jurassic Park? This is the real world, not a Michael Crichton novel!”
Nelson’s right, this isn’t funny. Something that close to home isn’t funny. Frank could hear Nelson snuffle in the dark, obviously scared. He’s got a good reason to be frightened…but he doesn’t know it yet.
Frank waited a few seconds more before switching on the breaker. Nelson ran around franctically, checking on each of his favorite chickens, for they were all indeed his favorites.
“Of course the chickens are fine, Nelson. This has nothing to do with the chickens.”
“What do you mean, this has nothing to do with the chickens? The only reason why we are here is to work with these chickens, and try to get them to generate electricity!”
Now is finally the time to tell him. “Uhh, Nelson? I have something to show you. I mean, someone.”
For once, Nelson was silent. He had been working in this underground lab in Oxnard, California for years, and he had never seen this serious look on Frank’s face, even when he was deep in thought.
Frank walked up to the wall, and perfunctorily pulled on the refridgerator. Much to Nelson’s amazement, the fridge moved out easily, allowing a glimpse into the next room. Not being able to hold himself back, Nelson rushed into it and took a look around. On one wall, there were chicken cages, just like there were in the lab he spent most of his time in. On the table sat a laptop, it’s screen filled with a plethora of numbers, tracking the hemoglobin counts of the various chickens, just like Nelson had just been doing. But the thing that surprised him most was the persnickety man in a lab coat and combover, checking on the chickens with care.
It was his doppelganger, dressed exactly as he was, with a nametag that read, “Nelson Daniels,” apparently performing the very same tasks that the original Nelson was in the other room. And this other man, Nelson’s double, looked just as shocked to see him.
Rushing into the room after Nelson, Frank wanted to explain to Nelson and Nelson what was going on. After all, they had been subjects of a scientific experiment since they were babies, so they had the right to know. Just as Frank had collected his nerves to speak, the first Nelson spoke up.
“Verily, you are my very image!”
” ‘Verily?’ You’re a little proud of your simple vocabulary, aren’t you? After all, you’re nothing but a plebian!”
“ME, a plebian? You’re just like me! Uber balding, callipygian [Dana]…”
“What does my butt have to do with anything? Do you want me to moon ya? Do you just like to throw out inconsequential, fancy words?”
“SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS!”
“Does that make you feel better?” the second Nelson questioned in disgust.
Finally, Frank was able to make himself heard above the dueling technicians. He explained how the old Nelson and the new Nelson were identical twins split at birth, raised by two families as identical as can be, and taught the exact same things by the exact same tutors. After their schooling, they were placed in these identical labs, given the exact same task: to genetically alter chickens to be able to generate electricity.
“As you both have realized, you,”–Frank pointed to the new Nelson–”succeeded, while you,”–pointing to the original Nelson–”failed.”
Being the brilliant scientists that they were, the Nelsons questioned in sync, “Okay, then what was the variable?”
“The only variable was that one of you was only allowed to listen to classical music his whole life, while the other only rock ‘n’ roll.”
The original Nelson muttered under his breath, “I knew that music was rotting my brain…”
Do you remember when I asked you for words so that I could spin them into a story?
