posted on Sep, 6 2010 @ 06:20 PM
"Have you liquefied that brain yet? Now, hurry it up! I haven't got all day," barked the professor.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," weaseled the homonunculous.
"Just hit 'Frappe' you li'l twerp."
"Got it, I got it, sorry, I'm sorry," echoed the homonunculous.
The door slammed loudly as the professor stormed down the hallway and into the next room. The storm was galloping in quickly, thick as black bean
soup. The thunder exploded relentlessly and the whole building shook. Lightning tore through the flimsy grey curtains, silhouetting the professor's
tall and bulky shadow against the chalkboard. Paint-peeled spackles glittered mockingly with each flash of light. Professor Nabum plunked his
pumpkin-shaped arze in the teacher's chair and pulled a pen and pad out of his sickly-green overcoat then scribbled furiously until his head dropped
"One two, buckle my shoe. Three, four, shut the door," quoted the homonunculous ceremoniously as he closed the lab for the night and went to his
hole. His hole, a drafty ol' broom closet next to the loo smelled like urine, but he didn't mind. His brief respite at the end of a long day's
work was well-earned yet miserly rewarded.
The school bell rang and Professor Nabum's head popped up like toast in a toaster. Smart-alecky students muffled a nasal-throaty laugh and then
grabbed their books to feign a studious demeanor.
Ms. Natcher, the grizzled old assistant, was in the back of the room preparing the classroom lab tables with sundry bits of malodorous decayed flesh,
most still bearing a large wad of hair. The storm was gone for now; but, the sky remained a dark sullen grey. "Right perky weather we has here
ain't it?" Ms. Natcher could slaughter the English language with nothing but her foul grey tongue and mouth full of half-rotted black teeth. Her
eyes roamed independently, like two coal-black search lights set to random-mode. Her calf-length dress was as thin and grey as the curtains.
"Have," corrected the professor, knowing it was a waste of his effort. "Have you prepared the tables Ms. Natcher?"
"Yes, we be all ready fer ya."
"For Blimey's sake woman, go home!" barked the professor commandingly.
As Ms. Natcher quietly departed, the professor scooted back his wooden chair as the chair-feet made a farting sound on the wooden floor. More muffled
nasal-throaty laughs were stifled by the students who knew Professor Nabum had no sense of humor.
He waddled to Miss Petri's desk, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to the lab-tables at the back of the room. Now, Miss Petri was the gentlest,
quietest student in the room and she seemed unphased by the teacher's barbaric behavior. He does it all the time. She's used to it. "You'll do
just fine," he quipped unemotionally. He wasn't encouraging Miss Petri, he was self-applauding his choice of victim for the day's work.
Grabbing an over-sized sheep-shear, he shaved a large hunk of hair off of Miss Petri's long golden locks. Tears rolled down her face, as she
suffered her shame silently. Miss Petri wasn't one to make a fuss nor defend herself, and everybody knew it.
"Now then ..." Professor Nabum began as he held the fistful of golden locks in the air as a trophy. "First we check for parasites. "Nits and
gnats, head lice to be exact." He demonstrated the examination and gave an approving nod. "Now, we measure." He rolled the strands between his
thumb and forefinger. "Medium, not too thin, not too thick. Okay next we record our findings and gauge color and sheen." He held the golden locks
up to the color chart until he found a match; then, examined them under various lights for luster and sheen. After a quick scribble he announced to
the class, "Now for the fun part, and I know you all love fun so follow me to the main lab please."
A dozen ugly young men and the lovely young Miss Petri followed him to the lab.
The lab door slammed tight, and bolted itself securely closed.
Surprised, Professor Nabum walked back to the door and tried to open it; but, it wouldn't budge. They were locked IN. This wasn't in his plans.
The look of worry and horror spread over his face like a morning tide claiming new beach. The young men were quick to notice and interpret the
teacher's expression. They started looking at each other questioningly, then furrowed their brows and tightened their facial features in an
expression of concern.
The lights went out, a baritone moan harmonized among the men. No windows, no lights, an airtight room sealed from the outside. There was a putrid
smell of rotting flesh and the clatter of clumsy bodies bumping into glass-vial filled tables.
The air BURST alive with the ghosts of shaven dogs, bears, cats and other no-longer-hairy mammals. A loud witch's cackle filled the air like a
hundred boom boxes, bouncing off eardrums and deafening others. The guys held their palms to their ears protectively and cowered like beaten dogs.
Professor Nabum clutched his left pocket, thumbing for his nitroglycerine. Eardrums started bursting, warm trickles flowed down poorly shaven cheeks.
The cackles got louder and louder and louder. A dozen full grown young men and one fat old professor were crying in fear.
Ghostly animals snarled and lashed out at their prey menacingly. The floor was soon strewn with slashed clothing, peeled in shreds, slathered in
blood. Bodies were scattered hither and thither, this way and that.
The room suddenly hushed, the ghostly apparitions dissipated. The lights flickered for awhile, then came back on. Deadbolts on the door sounded as
though they were unlocking themselves. The door flung open with a great whoosh! Disembodied souls, animal ghosts to be precise, rushed through the
door to freedom.
A trio stood in the doorway. A squat, hairless, fat homonunculous; and Ms. Natcher and Miss Petri.
"We're too late," muttered Miss Petri in a hushed tone.
"No we're not," Ms. Natcher corrected. "Look at them, they are all breathing."
"Good!" the homonunculous pronounced gleefully. "Let's get to work ladies. Follow me!"
The trio waded through the specimen's, sheep shears in hand and proceeded to shave the fallen men's heads.
"I think that's about it," announced Ms. Natcher. "We'll make do with what we have."
The homonunculous hopped upon an operating table and laid down, rolls of fat wobbling this way and that.
The pair of women proceeded to sew hair all over the homonunculous' naked body until he looked like a mottled, hairy, shag-doll.
"And that about wraps it up," completed Ms. Natcher. "Not a Hair Too Soon." The End © TZ 2010