“Do we have results on subject 37-E yet, Dr. Ramos?”
“Same results as subjects 37-A through 37-D, Dr. Meola. It broke free from its restraints, damaged the holding cell door, assaulted three interns, then killed the intervening security guards and wore their entrails as clothing.”
“Only three this time?” he asked, writing the number on his clipboard. “Either this one is slower than the others or the interns are finally getting smarter.”
“There were only three interns left, Dr. Meola.”
“Oh.”
“This subject seems especially vicious, actually. Faster, stronger, smarter than the others.”
“Smarter?”
“It, uh…” Dr. Ramos cleared his throat. “It talked, Tony.”
“Talked? It shouldn’t be able to… What did it say?”
“It, uh, well… it said, ‘I’m a pretty, pretty princess,’ while dancing around in the guards’ intestines. It managed to fashion them into a, uh, dress.”
“I’m sorry?”
“It also shaped the damaged shackles into what Judy said appeared to be a tiara.”
“Judy?”
“One of the interns. You’ll see her at lunch. She’ll be the one with half a face.”
“Well,” said Dr. Meola, “this is certainly less than heartening, Dr. Ramos. I’m beginning to think we may have to scrap the program entirely.”
“Maybe man wasn’t meant to play god after all, Tony.”
The two doctors looked at one another with grave repentance on their faces.
They immediately started cracking up.
“Seriously, though,” continued Dr. Ramos, catching his breath and wiping a tear from his eye, “it probably wasn’t the best idea cross-breeding a werewolf and an atomic mutant, engineering it to be excessively belligerent, starving it, and then insulting its mother repeatedly.”
“No, probably not,” said Dr. Meola. “Hindsight and all that.” He sighed. “Might as well get George over here and have him put it down. We’ll perform the autopsy after lunch and then bury it with the others.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Ramos began walking to his desk to make the call.
“Dr. Ramos,” said Dr. Meola, “before you do that… you want to get Alexi drunk and make him wrestle it?”
“Oh, hell yes.”