||I was in the newsagents the other day looking for the latest issue of Enema Fanciers magazine when I spied this one in the DIY section.|
||Now, I'm the first person to stand up and proclaim that pants beat rubber hose. Hosiery through the years have been greatly exagerrated in my opinion, so it was about time someone stood up and made the world aware of such travesties of justice. Anyway, I flicked through the magazine and came across the cover story, which I'm sure you'd be interested in checking out. I've scanned the first page and some of the photos here for you and typed out the other relevant text so you can read it. Makes for VERY interesting reading and is an insight into the bleeding edge of reanimation science. I won't post the whole article, you can buy the magazine if you want that. I'm just posting the most interesting bits.|
This is the first page of the article. Your usual blurb on the author and a brief outline of the document. Good looking bloke, and he obviously knows what he's talking about.
||Everything else from here on is stuff typed from the article. Enjoy!|
First of all you need to acquire the parts. Some scientists maintain that you need fresh gear straight from the morgue but I've never had anything but dramas trying that. Hospital security seem to get a bit uppity when they see you stuffing bits onto the backseat of your car. Running off with a torso whilst dodging a hail of bullets is not a lot of fun.
||I prefer to dig up a recent burial. I like the hands-on approach and you get a bit of a buzz from the manual labour. At this point you might also like to get yourself an able-bodied (though preferably slightly retarded) assistant who can help with the spadework.
The public also gets the added bonus of something interesting on the TV. There's nothing like a gruesome exhumation or two to pique people's curiosity.
Here you can see me at work trying to pry the concrete lid off. I originally had the ski-mask on but this is hot work so I rolled it up.|
||Here I'm toting my bag of goodies back to the lab.|
||If you have your heart set on a midnight "freezer raid" then might I suggest you do it Weekend at Bernie's style? Pushing someone out of the hospital in a wheelchair is way easier than lugging an armload of limbs or a body over your shoulder. If people get too nosey imply the "patient" has a communicable disease or something. SARS is a Godsend but don't underestimate the power of Ebola to have people running for the hills. Splash some blood on your coat or wear a facemask for added effect.|
Once the parts are assembled and laid out on your work-bench, double-check the wiring on your Van der Graf generators. Take this time to also check the security on your door. The last thing you need is a couple of Mormon extremists blundering in when you are midway through creating a deplorable blasphemy against God. The high-pitched voice in your head may be suggesting you answer them in your blood-spattered clothing just for a laugh but trust me - nothing brings the cops like the unmistakeable stench of corrupted flesh.
||Here we can see that the parts have been reassembled. The fluid described elsewhere has been pumped into the body cavities and I'm shown here removing the last hose. Just out of shot are the high voltage lines ready to be clamped onto the body. Luckily the current drain is fairly small but if you are concerned, you could always steal the power from your neighbours. A simple induction coil could work but why bother? The yokels are so stupid you might as well run an extension cord from their loungeroom.|
||Here's a safety tip: make sure you keep flammable material away from your experimental apparatus. As you can imagine, those high voltages can play havoc with your soft furnishings if you're not careful. Luckily I have some extinguishers lying around for just this sort of thing. I find the best place to get them from is high-rise or government buildings. If you put on a pair of overalls and carry a clipboard you can pretty much take whatever you want.|
||Finally, the big moment. I had to throw the switch myself - Igor had to take his mum to the vet. Still, at least I don't have to put up with his flatulent whinings. Don't get me wrong, he's a lovely lad but if I have to hear any more about Beckham's signing to Madrid I swear I'll scoop out his hump and fill it with semtex.
I'm a traditionalist - to me an assistant should have limp hair that looks like a greasy mop-head used to clean up after an explosion in a turd factory. But you can't tell kids these days what to do. If Igor wants a blonde mohawk then I guess I have to put up with it. But I'll be damned if he'll accompany me to the annual Mad Scientist Gala Ball looking like that! Oh yes, Doctor Destructo would be VERY pleased to see that, the smarmy little git.|
So the switch is thrown and...SUCCESS! Or, if you prefer, "It's alive! ALIVE! Hahahahahaha!"
||What now, you ask? Well hopefully you will have already planned out your uses for the monster. If not, here's a handy list of popular choices:|
1. Terrorise the neighbourhood.
2. Exact revenge upon those scientists who said you were mad.
3. Write scripts for Seinfeld.
4. Get the lid off that jar of pickles.
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|For me, however, I plan to use his superior strength and low intelligence to mow my lawns and paint the house. He will become my slave, answering to my every whim. I can feed him table scraps and potato peelings and force him to live under the stairs like a reject from the ramblings of JK Rowling. But without the hot Hermione action, I can assure you.|
That's right, he will...What? No, stay back! I created you! You can't kill ME! Curse my weak, nerd-like strength.
Hey, what are you doing with my trousers? What are you doing with YOUR trousers!? Noooooooo!