Page 37 - Unlikely Stories 2

Earl King and his Puppet Thing

“Phlogiston! And what, may I ask, will that do for us? Will it buy me
a new mink coat for the winter? Can it be traded for a new diamond
necklace? I’m getting so bored with my old one, you know.”
“Er, um, well, to tell the truth, my angel—”
“What? What is it, you worm, you insect, you loathsome toad? Out
with it! What are you trying to say?” Griselda raised her large meaty
fists over her husband’s head. He hemmed and hawed, fear paralyzing
his powers of speech.
“Urk, urp, ulp, ump—”
“What! What! Speak up, you miserable excuse for a man! Is that stuff
you’re making any good for anything, or is it just another foolish waste
of time? Tell me!”
“It—it’s phlogiston,” the cringing Calamari stuttered and stammered.
“It’s wonderful stuff, and completely hypothetical. Once I get it under
control, there’s no telling what might be done with it.”
“Oh, yes, there is!” screeched Griselda. “I’ll tell you what to do with
it!” She grabbed a large test tube and laid into him, beating him soundly
about the head and shoulders. “Take that filthy slimy stinky gooey mess
of chemicals and dump it down the drain! Or, better yet, go and drink
it all up! Yes! Maybe that would put some sense into your thick ugly old
skull!”
As Griselda chased her unfortunate husband around the laboratory,
pummeling him ceaselessly and without mercy, the immature audience
howled, offering Calamari instruction on which way to turn to escape
the next blow and pleading with the implacable Griselda to stop the
barrage. Again, Earl King brought the mayhem to a close at just the
right point, a few seconds before mutual exhaustion.
The scientist lay sprawled over his bench. Griselda surveyed the
scene with evident satisfaction and dusted her hands together. “There!
That ought to teach you a lesson! Now, I’m going shopping: you had
better be doing something more useful by the time I get back!”
She exited. After a few heartbeats of dead silence, Calamari suddenly
lifted his head and asked the children: “Is she gone?”
“Yes!” they shouted in unison.
He sprang up erect, instantly recovered. “Then I can go back to
work,” he chortled gleefully, and busied himself cleaning up the mess
his wife had made. “Oh, I love to go a-tinkering,” he began singing, but
stopped. “Wait a minute: I can’t complete my experiment without

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