hands,
would no doubt bring about such a catastrophe of epic proportions as would
change the face of this world forever. Proff B however had a very greedy and
evil glint in his eye and was having none of it.
“Now listen to me Hitzenspinkle (alas, he
wasn't aware of the legalities). We could become very rich and important men
with this serum. If we can reproduce its components and successfully control
it, then we could eventually control the world and make millions!”
(He failed to roar ' Muhahahah '
but you could see it etched on his face).
Proff H (as he shall now be
known) was wearing a look of sheer horror and disgust as he turned to his
colleague and spat out the words “You monster! We shall see what Doctor White
has to say about this very thing!” and turned on his heels toward the myriad of
circular corridors which would eventually lead to the High Office of the Main
Man that ruled this building. Hot on his heels was a pleading and possessed
Proff B who was throwing in the words “Only joking” as if his life depended on
it.....!
Although Chris had no
knowledge of experiments and serums, he understood the words 'make' and
'millions' all too well, and so by slithering out from beneath the work top he
was soon standing next to his winning lottery ticket.
Wasting no time- and without
allowing his better judgement to stop him- he grabbed some basic protective
equipment and a discarded plastic water bottle from the bin inside his Janitor
trolley and, with shaking hands, poured the clear mixture into the bottle. He
then quickly topped up the space- age looking receptacle with plain tap water,
badly replacing its lid in his hurry, carefully placed the water bottle into
his mop bucket and headed directly for the trade lift.
Although he knew that Doctor White's High
office was a fair way from the laboratory in which the drama had just taken
place he also knew that time wasn't a luxury. So after a good five minute lift ride to the bottom of the tall building
he ran to his car like a bat out of Hell, firmly grasping the innocent looking
bottle of water.
A janitor's wage doesn't
cover the cost of a souped-up getaway car. However, his normally trusty
(albeit rusty) Volvo took more than two
key turns in the ignition to purr into life, mainly due to the heightened sense
of panic and euphoria that Chris was feeling. However, eventually he made it
out of the car park and onto the busy ring roads of town and headed straight
towards a shady little pub called the Masshouse Inn. He already knew through
repetitive behavioural patterns who would be drinking in this pub and exactly
where they would be seated, as he himself was a regular and had already quite
often unburdened himself of the spoils of petty pilfering in this very place.
Although what he was hoping to sell today went
far beyond his usual supply of illegally obtained cleaning chemicals and safety
equipment that had boosted his drinking and gambling kitty when Maude had
refused to comply, he was pinning his hopes on a 'someone knows someone knows
someone' scenario.
As he pulled into the car park of the shady
establishment, he could barely see, mainly on account of the huge pound signs
that obstructed his vision and his sense of morality.
Proffs B and H had reached the grand High Office of Doctor
White, but as yet hadn't pressed the intercom button. Proff H had calmed a
little but was still eyeing Proff B as a homicidal maniac.
“Please, Hitzenspinkle, I am
begging you. If you press that button I am a finished man. I have other mouths
to feed beside my own, and I still have so very much to give to the world. I
also still have a photograph of you and that Dutch prostitute, off your tits on
Space cakes whilst that bloke shoves......”
“SSSHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”
And so it was because of this
latest conversation that the Proff's were now
silently returning to their
would no doubt bring about such a catastrophe of epic proportions as would
change the face of this world forever. Proff B however had a very greedy and
evil glint in his eye and was having none of it.
“Now listen to me Hitzenspinkle (alas, he
wasn't aware of the legalities). We could become very rich and important men
with this serum. If we can reproduce its components and successfully control
it, then we could eventually control the world and make millions!”
(He failed to roar ' Muhahahah '
but you could see it etched on his face).
Proff H (as he shall now be
known) was wearing a look of sheer horror and disgust as he turned to his
colleague and spat out the words “You monster! We shall see what Doctor White
has to say about this very thing!” and turned on his heels toward the myriad of
circular corridors which would eventually lead to the High Office of the Main
Man that ruled this building. Hot on his heels was a pleading and possessed
Proff B who was throwing in the words “Only joking” as if his life depended on
it.....!
Although Chris had no
knowledge of experiments and serums, he understood the words 'make' and
'millions' all too well, and so by slithering out from beneath the work top he
was soon standing next to his winning lottery ticket.
Wasting no time- and without
allowing his better judgement to stop him- he grabbed some basic protective
equipment and a discarded plastic water bottle from the bin inside his Janitor
trolley and, with shaking hands, poured the clear mixture into the bottle. He
then quickly topped up the space- age looking receptacle with plain tap water,
badly replacing its lid in his hurry, carefully placed the water bottle into
his mop bucket and headed directly for the trade lift.
Although he knew that Doctor White's High
office was a fair way from the laboratory in which the drama had just taken
place he also knew that time wasn't a luxury. So after a good five minute lift ride to the bottom of the tall building
he ran to his car like a bat out of Hell, firmly grasping the innocent looking
bottle of water.
A janitor's wage doesn't
cover the cost of a souped-up getaway car. However, his normally trusty
(albeit rusty) Volvo took more than two
key turns in the ignition to purr into life, mainly due to the heightened sense
of panic and euphoria that Chris was feeling. However, eventually he made it
out of the car park and onto the busy ring roads of town and headed straight
towards a shady little pub called the Masshouse Inn. He already knew through
repetitive behavioural patterns who would be drinking in this pub and exactly
where they would be seated, as he himself was a regular and had already quite
often unburdened himself of the spoils of petty pilfering in this very place.
Although what he was hoping to sell today went
far beyond his usual supply of illegally obtained cleaning chemicals and safety
equipment that had boosted his drinking and gambling kitty when Maude had
refused to comply, he was pinning his hopes on a 'someone knows someone knows
someone' scenario.
As he pulled into the car park of the shady
establishment, he could barely see, mainly on account of the huge pound signs
that obstructed his vision and his sense of morality.
Proffs B and H had reached the grand High Office of Doctor
White, but as yet hadn't pressed the intercom button. Proff H had calmed a
little but was still eyeing Proff B as a homicidal maniac.
“Please, Hitzenspinkle, I am
begging you. If you press that button I am a finished man. I have other mouths
to feed beside my own, and I still have so very much to give to the world. I
also still have a photograph of you and that Dutch prostitute, off your tits on
Space cakes whilst that bloke shoves......”
“SSSHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”
And so it was because of this
latest conversation that the Proff's were now
silently returning to their
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