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propaganda.net : Skole & Jobb
Write your own fantasy storySkriv ut Utskrift

A short-story about a mad professor.

Karakter: 6

Engelsk - NovelleForfatter: Anonym



It was a silly thing indeed, the thing there before me on the table. A silly and green and slimy thing it was. And above all else it was a ludicrous thing, a thing that ought not to be a thing at all, but simply a figment of imagination, the spawn of a madman’s ponderings. And yet here it was; a very solid, unyieldingly real and profusely smelly thing.

 

What should one call such a thing? It was not so simple as to simply call the thing a dog or a cat or a vending machine, seeing as it did not bear any resemblance to any of these things, nor for that matter, any other thing I had ever in my long life laid eyes upon.

 

Perhaps I could combine all its characteristics and disgusting traits into one name? Yes that would indeed be clever and professional. Something like the Awfully Reeking, Continuously Hiccupping, Immensely Bothersome, Almost Liquid Duffamafiggler? ARCHIBALD for short? And there we have it; I, the amazingly brainy professor Diddleton have just made yet another mind-bogglingly brilliant discovery!

 

The thing, pardon me, the ARCHIBALD, snorted loudly, and then gave an impressive sneeze, sending a massive globule of saliva and multihued boogers whizzing across the room, hitting the wall with an utterly superb splat. He then burped enthusiastically and smacked his lips rather contentedly. There was a pause in which I chewed my fading chewing-gum with superhuman vigor and the ARCHIBALD picked his crumpled snout, looking weary. And then, with an earsplitting crash, he slid down from the table and onto the floor, misshapen bum-like thing first. The slime coating his back gave a horrible sucking sound as it hit the linoleum.

 

He looked up at me with big, round, bleary eyes, evidently shocked. Then he grinned, produced a couple of strikingly loud grunts that may have been shouts of laughter, grabbed hold of his stump-like toes and started rocking back and forth, giggling and snorting.

 

 I scratched my head, thinking hard and, gnawing profusely on my gum, started to pace the room.

 

The thing I had extracted from that strange cardboard box was clearly not a fully grown ARCHIBALD. Surely it could not; things from other dimensions must be somewhat more sophisticated than this sorry excuse of a specimen.

 

Only by looking at it I can, with certainty, say that this ARCHIBALD could not even tell which types of tea go with milk and which go with lemon. Yes, the ARCHIBALD is surely a stupid and silly infant of a thing.

I, the tremendously talented, plainly fantastic and splendidly handsome Professor Diddleton can surely do better than this.

 

“Yes, indeed, silly ARCHIBALD!” I yelled at it, whipping around, sending my cloak billowing behind me impressively, pointing a quivering finger at my newly discovered discovery. He looked a little stumped, filthy foot in drooling mouth, and right fist up left nostril.

 

“I snort in your general direction, sir, yes I do! You are not worthy to bask in the splendor that is my glorious presence! Go back, back I say, into the slimy depths from which I, the brilliant professor Diddleton, have just extracted you.”

 

The ARCHIBALD opened his mouth, and then closed it again, flailing his arms and looking indignant. I waggled a disapproving finger at it, gave it a stern look and then, very impressively and firmly pointed to the slightly soggy cardboard box. With a slimy sigh, it crawled back onto the table, gave me one last reproachful look and slipped back into the box.

 

“And don’t come back until you learn the difference between Earl Grey and Indian Chai!” I yelled after it.

 

Very pleased with myself (rightly so too, seeing how incredibly brilliant I am) I slammed the lid of the box shut and stowed it away in a nearby cupboard, already crammed with numerous other similar boxes.

 

I heaved a great sigh, and set off towards the kitchen to make a pot of tea. All in all, not a bad day.




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