Warning Signs You May Be A Mad Scientist


As a medical intern, you were instructed to dig up bodies from the cemetary and bring them to class for reanimation.

You have been known to make exploding babies.

You keep your assistant despite his/her crush on you because it guarantees s/he'll always do what you say.

You frequently burst into maniacal laughter (note: may just be a symptom of everyday weirdness).

Your henchmen are themed.

A workplace accident has resulted in the requirement of a cool and potentially lethal prosthetic.

You would describe your fashion sense as "Third Reich semi-casual".

You created an evil version of your worst enemy (it turned on you).

When Dr. Harold Shipman received fifteen life sentences for killing all those patients, you said to yourself: "yeah, but I wouldn't have gotten caught."

You know all too well the pros and cons of cloning yourself.

You always have the coolest chair at the conference table.

You are no longer legally allowed to take up residence anywhere in smalltown Germany.

Every new plan you undertake has a name which already belongs to a band, a spaceship, or a hemerrhoid cream.

Your artificial arm keeps flying up into a Nazi salute at inappropriate times.

You have actually found a use for the Jacob's Ladder outside of a high school science demonstration.

The top half of your skull no longer exists; in its place is a glass dome showcasing your exposed brain. And at some point in time, this actually sounded like a good idea to you.

When a gigantic living bomb shows up in the harbour, everyone blames you.

Your co-workers are sexy Japanese women with names like Eudial, Mimete and Tellu. (Also, if you actually get this one, you're just as bad a Sailormoon freak as I am.)

The sight of a mushroom cloud from a nuclear explosion excites you sexually.

You have more body parts in your freezer than Jeffrey Dahmer.

You regularly entertain your hideously mutated creations by playing the piano and singing for them.

Every life form you have created so far has been deliberately given four asses.

To you, the fridge seems like the best place to store jars of lethal acid, right next to the bread.


Got any good suggestions? Send them to me and I'll put them up. And I'll even give you credit! Maybe.

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