not going to argue with you there. But, it's not like I went into this thing blind; after all, I did some legwork before I actually
started. The plans I had included a budget for the incubation chamber, uranium 235, tuition for the Greater Hobart County
Correspondence School Real Estate Program (Maybe a little extravagant, but hey, I mean if you're gonna do this thing you gotta
do it in style, right? You know what I'm talking about).
What I didn't plan for, however, was all the extra costs involved. I mean, you try buying suits for 12 mutants, each the size of
Refrigerator Perry riding on the reanimated corpse of Andre the Giant. The Big and Tall Men's store gave me no discount, nor
even a group rate (I thought it was cheaper to buy in bulk, shows what I know). So I was forced to dress them only in togas
created from bed sheets purchased at local thrift stores.
Food also became a major expenditure. Through some bizarre process, the mutants all developed their own particular tastes.
Grognar only liked cereal, Huuurggh would only consume liquids, and Jaddog wouldn�t touch anything that wasn�t broiled. I tired
forcing them to eat what I bought, but what followed this attempt was more horrible than anything I�ve ever experienced. The
mutants ability to produce and hurl large quantities of feces still gives me nightmares to this day.
Money problems aside, there were also issues with the mutants themselves (those crazy knuckleheads). First, it was a surprising
result that after gestation, all of them started growing hair all over their bodies. You know how hairy Robin Williams is? Multiply
that by Tom Selleck and you only begin to approach the horror of the thick, coarse and sometimes mobile fur of these freakish
behemoths. So at least 4 hours of everyday was spent "playing barbershop." Well I played barbershop; the mutants just emitted
high-pitched yelps followed by grunts, followed by thrown feces.
The one calling itself Shunck especially hated being approached with anything shiny or sharp so whenever I tried to give him a
shavedown he would try to distract me by performing Liza Minelli songs (which actually sounded like "unnng unnng" with no real
change in pitch or tone, yet retained a feeling which could only be described as "Minelli"). He would follow these little ditties with
a savage blow to my skull in which he would actually drive my head and neck down in between my shoulders. He would then use
a comedically large crowbar to jimmy my head from my chest, and although
quite funny, I am now on my seventh spinal surgery.
I also did not plan for their complete lack of any intellect. I don't know how they could possibly sell real estate if they couldn't
form cogent sentences and would run in terror at the mere sight of an exclamation point (they preferred commas, which they
worshipped like gods). I can't imagine anyone seeing a large behemoth clad in He-Man sheets, bellowing "Me sell house you" and
believing they were about to enter into a good investment.
I tried teaching them myself with disastrous results. They were able to grasp basic concepts (eating, throwing, not crying when
they saw the sun), but the more advanced concepts seemed to elude them (zoning, figuring APR on a fixed rate investment,
petting without crushing).
Plus, the mutants never really nailed down the whole concept of "house." On one occasion Thraang (Daddy�s favorite) sold a
college student an empty box of Cap'n Crunch and claimed it was an apartment. (To my surprise, the student actually enjoyed the
space, but eventually moved out claiming the "Cap'n" was an overbearing roommate.)
Seeing just how badly I had squandered the money I had slowly been stealing from you on this failed project, I abandoned all
hope, as well as the warehouse where the mutants all lived. And I've never looked back. But I can't help but wonder what they're
doing now. I�ve heard some of them escaped and are living among us. I have heard some have found work and others have joined
various social groups. Why just yesterday, one of my lab assistants told me that a few of them had found Jesus.
I just hope they didn't throw their shit at him.
Copyright John Meyers 2002