Mygob

The sign on the small shop, that looks like a run down tool and die shop, reads, EctoBioPlasmic RD Co. It sits unnoticed in the decades old industrial park outside, or maybe grown inside, Orlando. Although the facade looks like the waste of some old tool and die makers glory, an elevator takes the workers to the lab beneath which is a good 100K sq.ft. of stainless lab facility. The company logo stands in three inch letters over the front door so passerby’s do not read it. The street number is large enough to let those who do need to enter locate the facility.Only a dozen or so vehicles show up weekdays, most are wheezing old Buicks and both brands of the more popular pickups brands in lesser states of repair.

"There can be no such thing as molecular intelligence. You sound like a coke-monkey with a hole in your dura mater!", Deiter hollers at Steffie. "Dammit, you shouldn't even have that cesium-tritium stuff, that’s been banned for decades. Where the hell did you get that stuff? I did the analysis and I can tell you, you have the real stuff."

"It's none of your business, you just keep working that cyborg bandage garbage your on and I'll play with this!"

"I'm going to Hong Kong tonight, so I do not really care what the hell you mix up. Don't forget weekend work is strictly against company policy." Dieter replies.

"Bye now.....Have a nice trip.", Steffie days as he leaves, as she glowers at the workbench.

It's eight o'clock Friday night and Steffie was planning on working late anyhow, and she goes up to get her sandwich she picked up from the Que-TEEEE Mart on the way to work, as she knew the reaction of the cesium-tritium would take some time according to her calculations. She bites the sub and thinks the salami is overruling the Polski ham, and too much mayo. She gets the second bite in her mouth turning back to the workbench

and feels something on her ankle, she shakes her leg because it tickles, then she looks down as a burning sensation takes hold and she sees a pingpong ball size lump move from her skin into her ankle. The second bite of sandwich flies from her mouth and lands on the floor after hitting the wall, with a plotch. Her leg lights up like and Invisible Man anatomy toy-model and she screams to see her glowing leg, and feels the glow fill up her pelvis, and then her spine is lit in a neon glow as the lump moves up her spine through her neck, forms a pulsating glow in her skull and pushes her eyeballs out of their sockets.

Mygob is born and he rolls quickly to the brass floor drain cover passes through all the slats in the brass cover at once and retreats down the floor drain.

........................................

"Kelly, what are you writing?" Debbie asks her brother who is pounding out his junior high writing assignment for English class.

"Same old," says Kelly.

"I don't see how you can watch Mortal Kombat and write poems to it and fool that teacher. He is bound to catch on, even if you keep changing styles and get the latest CD he hasn't seen. You are going to get in trouble when he finds out!", says Debbie, trying with all her twelve year old voice to admonish her fourteen year old brother.

"Oh, shut up!", Kelly fires back as he writes another poem in the Homeric form he found in the English handbook.