By Mike Stevens
It had moved. Dr. Dan Goiterstein had shot the electricity into the creation’s neck bolts and the sheet he had used to cover his new human-like creation had moved beneath it. It was alive! He thought back to all the trouble he’d had at the graveyard, digging up coffins in the dead (poor choice of words) of night so he could steal different body parts to stitch on his soon-to-be-alive 2nd “son”:
They had snuck into the cemetery and dug up a coffin. Unfortunately, when they had tried to lift the coffin out of the grave, his helper, a man named Bones (appropriate) Kelly, had let his hand slip, causing the coffin to fall back into the grave, where it had smashed to pieces and the fresh body to slide in a grotesque gelatinous pile of innards and bones back to the bottom of the grave.
'Well that dude’s not going to work for what I need', thought Goiterstein to himself.
They quickly shoveled the dirt back into the grave and dug up another. This time they didn’t drop the coffin and Goiterstein pried of the top. As soon as he did, an awful stench hit his nose and maggots swarmed out of the dead guy’s mouth, nose, and ears. Immediately, Kelly spewed today’s blue-plate special, or rather what remained of it, all over the inside of the coffin, and all over the corpse.
Goiterstein said, “Well, that guy was putrid. He would never do!”
So they dug up a third fresh corpse and this time the body was in good shape, relatively speaking. They managed to drag it to the truck and carefully loaded it sitting propped up between them, so they would look like they had three people for the carpool lane. They then drove back to Goiterstein’s lab.
Goiterstein snapped his attention back to the present, where his new creation, Der II, was struggling to life. He spoke,
“Welcome to the land of the living, Der II!”
“Where Land of the Living, that near England?” Der II asked.
“Forget it. You’re in my laboratory, I created you.”
Der II then asked, “How the hell I know England?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe some memories from the brain we used were somehow transplanted into you, along with the brain. I had that same problem the last time. Truth-be-told, I just don’t know.”
Der II responded, “Well, what kind of doctor are you, if you “just don’t know?”
An angry Dr. Goiterstein answered, “A good enough doctor to bring your sorry a** to life!”
A concerned Der II unsuccessfully tried to see behind himself, “What sorry with Der II’s a**?”
The doctor had brought Der II to his castle-like home by the lake, right next to his lab. He figured Der II needed to learn about living in the real world, and what better way to teach him than to let him stay here? When they’d arrived at his house, Goiterstein opened them both a beer, then switched on the television. He sat down in one recliner, motioning for Der II to do likewise in the other one.
An uncertain Der II said, “Der no sit in crazy-a** chair; Der II stay stand; and what this?” he said, pointing to the can of beer in his hand.
Goiterstein replied, “Oh, sit down. I guarantee it’s comfortable. And what’s in your hand is what humans drink to relax. It’s called “beer”.”
Der II prodded the chair, decided it looked alright, sat down, and took a big drink of the beer. “Yuck, taste like s***!” he exclaimed, spitting it out.
Goiterstein chastised him, “Der II! “You should go outside, or to the sink to do that. You need to learn manners, and give the beer another chance; it takes awhile to grow on you.”
Once again, Der II tried to see behind him. “Der II have beer growing on him?”
They were sitting and watching an old horror movie on television. “What a pile of crap; totally unbelievable!” Der II exclaimed. Goiterstein said, “Der II, that’s how I made you.”
Der II thought for a second, and replied, “Oh, yeah!”
Der II wasn’t thinking straight, thanks to the alcohol. He’d taken Goiterstein’s advice and tried another beer, then another, until there was just one left in the case. Seeing as how Goiterstein had only had three, it was no wonder Der II was feeling no pain.
“Der II say yeah, party all night!” and he reached for the last beer.
Dr. Goiterstein was concerned, for Der II wasn’t handling alcohol very well. “Oh Der II, don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
Der II responded with, “Screw you, maybe Der II kick you’re a**!” and he took a couple of lumbering, staggering steps towards Goiterstein. Suddenly though, he said, “Whoa, Der II not sure what happens to him, Der II dizzy!” and he pitched forward, plummeting face-first to the floor, flattening a coffee table in the process. He rolled onto his back, and groaned, “Der II feel like crap, Der II get sick!”
The doctor yelled, “No, Der II, roll onto your stomach first!”
Der II somehow managed to make over on his stomach and spewed beer everywhere. Goiterstein looked at the dripping, disgusting mess, and said,
“Oh dear Der II, I tried to get you to stop drinking, and look. Well, at least you learned to drink alcohol in moderation.”
“Der II feel better. Bring on more!”
Oh. “Der II, that’s not very smart right now.”
“Der II say, “What, are you Der II’s mother? Der II going out!”
Goiterstein knew he couldn’t allow Der II to leave, so he started to ask him for his car keys, before remembering he didn’t even know how to drive. “Der II, I’m your father, and I say no!”
“Eat it, old man; you not tell what to do. Der II go looking for chicks!”
Dr. Goiterstein quickly, desperately, tried to think of something to change his mind, and replied, “Hey, I just had a wonderful idea. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do for you, I’m going to build you a babe!”
“Der II intrigued!” and he stopped on his way to the door.
“First of all, how do you even know what “intrigued” means, and secondly, I promise to build you a babe. After all, if I can build you, I can build a woman.”
Der II replied, “What a great idea! Der II say make her with tits out to here and hot backside, and Der II stay.”
He needed another body. Dr. Goiterstein sighed as he hoisted his side of the coffin, while Bones Kelly hoisted the other.
© Copyright 2016 Mike Stevens. All rights reserved.
Poem / Humor
Poem / Humor
Poem / Humor
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