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Try These On For Thighs - Chapter 3

Passersby stopped and stared at the two lunatics running down the street in white coats and pushing a gurney carrying an oval glass capsule filled with a brown liquid and a murky form. Some turned away in disgust from the mixed smell of mixed food, beer and soda as well as human faeces, some reached for mobile phones to call 911 (or 000 or 999 depending on where you are), but thought better of it when the two white-coated figures dashed inside the doors of the hospital.

Surely these were doctors who knew what they were doing!! (ha, ha! See “Doctors or Dilutees – A Treatise on the Dumbing Down of the Medical Arts” - Grappler Enterprises Inc, 2011).

Desperately Brainard and The Professor rushed from room to room at the Hospital, searching for a power plug thay could use to stem the tide of Nerd extinction. Not that one - damn you, multi-culturism catering to Eastern European power! (Da - two million zlotys, can giff maybe one light globe! Maybe next millenium. Is OK?)

Down the corridors of antispeptic smell they hurtled, pushing wheelchair bound patients and miniscule nurses out of the way, screaming:- "Out of the way - out of the way! This is an emergency of international dimension! The future of inhumanity rests on this! Out of the way!!".

"It's no good, Professor" said Brainard, "we're just not going to find a power outlet in time. I....think The Nerd is gone!"

"Nein, dumbkopf, NEIN! Ve vill not haf Zer Nerd given zer Final Solution - not on mein vatch!".

Ah - just what they needed! An unmonitored bed space, and only occupied by an ailing mother of ten, who is also a grandmother and valued contributor to Mother Theresa, and who has rescued thousands of orphans through her good works in life, as well as founding a home for lost orphan whales.

Now - there was somebody the world could do without!

Quick as a flash - Brainard pulled the plug on her life support, and jammed The Nerd's life support capsule inlet into the socket. The mother of ten gasped, and struggled for her final breath, but somewhere, in all that shitty murkiness inside his capsule - a faint glimmer of light shown through. The Nerd was alive - barely, but alive! Now - if only they could correct his shitty outlook - by clearing the liquid of floating faecal fossils - and then get his entire system back online!

Slowly the fluid cleared, and The Nerd started to show signs of life again. The coldness receded a little, and his vision started to clear - not just physically, but mentally as well - a great cloud of shit had been lifted from his brain! Soon he was bouncing around like a new born baby again - happy and content in his wonderfully clear nutrient fluid. Now all that remained was to re-attach the feed lines for the pizza, pies, chips, chicken, beer and red soft drink mix - then he would be back on deck - except, of course for his internet connection!

Meanwhile, the nurses sorrowfully covered the face of the mother of ten, and called the Coroner and the morgue attendant, a known necrophile who they retained due to his vast experience and willingness to work with dead people and because he kept the best ice cream in the freezer, and because he was on trustee day leave and was paid a cheap rate of pay from the Department of Corrections. He (ahem) came highly qualified!

And so - down she went - and down he went - man - this guy is weird!!!

The nurses never noticed that the white-coated Professor and Brainard were standing by with a life support capsule between them and using the mother of ten's life support system power plug - maybe they were just there for the experience or something (if you believe that - you'll believe anything!).

And so The Nerd was saved. For now.

* * *


Back at the Black House, President Ovama was making good on his promise to create a brand-new Institute of Nerd Exploration and Realisation Trends (INERT), a highly suitable name for a government funded operation – and was busily creating all the input required to get it up and running at vast public expense.

Back at the hospital, Brainard and The Professor had staked out the now deceased mother of ten's room, on the pretext of quarantine, and were busily setting up all the supplies The Nerd would need to keep going, and were happily slipping the tubes back into his shrunken, deformed body (Igor – I have a role for you!).

The Professor's mobile phone rings:- "Hello, Professor Von Brauneye (yes – he does have a name!) - Bleck speaking – I've organised funding and new facility for your research. When can you move in?".

"Professor Brauneye heaved a sigh of relief out the window and it fell to the street below, "As soon as you wish, Mein Fuhr.. Mr President!".

"Good...good! And we have some likely prospects for some new staff – there's a very fine young lass – just finished an internship here at the Black House without a single stain on her (snuckles, ratchets eyebrows) – a Miss Lavinia Lovelichops. How does that sound?".

Professor Von Brauneye clears his throat, drooling a little, "Oh, er – just fine, Mein President (nearly got it right this time!). Ve can move in tomorrow – if that's all right?".

"Tomorrow it is – goodbye, then, Professor. Good luck with your Nerd".

"Danke, Mein President!" (catches right arm just in time), "Chust a little tic there, Brainard – nothing to concern yourself!".

Next morning........

(Background music, Igor – Morning Has Broken, by Cat Stevens)....

Down at the new Institute of Nerd Exploration and Realisation Trends (INERT), Professor Von Brauneye is interviewing Lavinia Lovelichops, from his brand new deep leather professor's chair – a genuine fake French Restoration model bought from Louis Cutauze, The Marseilles pimp! (Oh, yes – it's a genuine Louis Cutauze – just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?).

 
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