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Just Being Frank (standard:humor, 1091 words)
Author: Reid LaurenceAdded: Jan 19 2009Views/Reads: 1586/997Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The temptation to undermine the American work force which I myself have been so long a part of... is this betrayal, treason, or just a bite of forbidden fruit? Who can say?
 



“Aren't you gonna wait for a stormy night, put him on a lift an push ‘im
up through the ceiling?” 

“What... are you nuts or somethin? You watch too much t.v.,” continued
the Doctor, very candidly. “You know, you don't have to stay. I can 
handle it fine by myself from here.” 

“What are you gonna do when he wakes up an goes crazy like he does in
the movie? Aren't you taking chances?” 

“Don't worry about it. As usual, you're missing the point entirely. The
whole reason I went through this was to create the perfect employee. 
Someone who would do what I tell them to do without asking for 
overtime, or whining about their headache, or bad back, or whatever. 
I'm sick and tired of listening to people complain day in and day out. 
There aren't any good employees out there. I was forced into doing this 
and you know it... they left me no choice.” 

“But this... this creature you've stitched together from who knows how
many well-meaning, good people. It's not right, it's not moral, there's 
just no justifying it.” 

“Look who's preaching morality now,” replied the doctor most pointedly.
“You're just like all the rest... even worse in fact. You're a 
graverobber Laurence. You're involved in this just as much as I am. You 
squeal on me now an the law will come down on you like a hammer on a 
watermelon. Just shut up an make yourself useful as long as you insist 
on hanging around.” 

“No, I won't help you deliver this madness to the world. I'm calling it
quits right now. This whole thing got way out of hand. I never...” 

“The batteries,” interrupted the doctor, who although trained in the art
of healing was hard at work employing the use of his skills to 
resurrect a hideous quilt-work of human flesh... a seven foot giant who 
– once re-animated – would follow any command at any time of day or 
night, no matter the difficulty or level of expertise required... all 
of this had been planned to the nth degree and to the most minute of 
detail, but all of this was dependent on one last effort that the 
doctor - in his haste to finish - had not foreseen and needed to enlist 
the aid of his assistant just one more time...“the batteries,” he 
repeated. “I can't install the batteries and hold this clamp down at 
the same time... he'll hemorrhage. They're right behind you.” 

“You mean,” I began to say, knowing full well that the table had turned
in my favor and that the doctor's evil plan to create the perfect 
American employee with no will of his own and no power over his own 
destiny now lay helpless in the palm of my hand, and in the form of two 
rechargeable, double ‘A' batteries. “These two little batteries right 
here? That huge, monstrous creation of yours is going to run on two 
small batteries?” 

“Yes, if you ever give them to me. He'll run for a hundred years on one
charge if you really want to know, but his first task will be choking 
you if you don't hand them over.” 

“Forget it. I won't contribute to this mess any more then I have. The
buck stops here Doc. You're finished. All this is gonna do is make 
matters worse, don't you see? If you go through with this, you'll make 
everyone look really bad. No one will be able to get a job anymore, and 
thousands of your crazy, half-human creations will be running amok. I 
can't let you go on with this.” 

“They can't get jobs now, what's the difference?” 

“The difference is, we still stand a chance if we all pull together.
It's always been that way. Americans are tough, durable and long 
lasting.” 

“So are the batteries in your hand. Give them to me.” 

“Never, you'll have to torture me to get them.” But just as I'd finished
speaking, intending to stay my ground by all the powers of resistance I 
could summon from within, the huge steel door of the laboratory - some 
twenty feet or so behind me - began to creek on its aging, metal hinges 


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