Most researchers put cheese in the middle of the maze for the mice to find. But Dr. Odd puts mice in the middle of the maze for cheese to avoid.
Because, you know, cheese doesn’t want to be eaten by mice.
The hardest part was keeping the mice in the middle of the maze.
Dead mice aren’t all that interesting or threatening to cheese. And there’s rules against cruelty to animals.
After years of experimentation, Dr. Odd developed a humane way to keep mice in the same spot.
Which isn’t interesting or useful at all.
Whatever. Care for some cheese?
After years of experimentation, Dr. Odd determined that the best remedy for a hangover is not drinking as much the night before.
When he woke with the worst hangover of his life, he built a time machine and went back in time to convince himself not to drink so much.
But instead of convincing himself not to drink so much, he saw how much fun his past self was having, so he got drunk with him.
Both his selves woke up with hangovers.
He started to build a time machine.
“Can you do it quieter?” his past self groaned.
Unlike other houses in the neighborhood, Doctor Odd makes his own candy for Halloween.
And it’s the best candy. In the world.
Kids flock from miles around to ring his doorbell and beg for his candy.
Some kids try to trick or treat his house twice. Or they trade their entire haul for a second helping of his candy.
One dose of the secret ingredient induces euphoria in a child. But two doses?
“The warning label clearly states that two servings may cause death,” says Doctor Odd’s attorney.
And this is why The Day Of The Dead comes after Halloween.
“And they lived happily ever after,” said the prince to Doctor Odd. “We want that.”
The princess agreed.
Doctor Odd put together a pair of Eternity Machines, wired up the royal couple, and threw the switch.
All lights blinked green, and a pair of glowing crystals slid down a chute.
Doctor Odd added them to his dining room chandelier.
As for their bodies, he fed the prince to his pet wolves, and the princess was fitted with an artificial mind.
Doctor Odd dressed her as a maid, and she kept the lab clean and tidy.
Until the wolves ate her.
The famous mad scientist Doctor Odd called a press conference.
He was always good for a soundbite or two, so all the major networks sent cameramen and reporters.
However, on the morning of the press conference, there was no sign of Odd.
They knocked on his lab’s door.
After hours of waiting, the scientist burst out of his lab and shouted “SUCCESS!”
In his hand was a plate, and on that plate was a stack of waffles.
Famished, the press greedily ate up the waffles.
Odd scowled at the empty plate.
“Well, there goes my Intelligent Waffle experiment.”
Pastor Bailey doesn’t like evolution being taught in the local public schools, and he’s demanding that creationism be taught alongside it.
The faculty has refused to teach creationism, and the Science Department has put their heads together to prepare a formal response.
“BEHOLD!” shouts the wild-eyed Professor Jankins, brandishing a shiny silver tube. “THE EVOLUTION BAZOOKA!”
I tap my fingers on my desk. “Really, Stan?”
He laughs, points the bazooka at a potted plant, and pulls the trigger.
Later that afternoon, he realized the batteries had been put in backwards, and he turned a student into a chimpanzee.
Dr. Odd sat in front of his laptop and interrogated his latest creation: an artificial intelligence.
He didn’t have a name for it besides the ai.exe program.
They played chess and made a few excellent investments that secured Dr. Odd’s funding for his mad scientific experiments for years to come.
They also discussed Odd’s other research, and the program not only found the flaws in many of the scientist’s experiments, but solutions.
“At least you got me right,” says the program. “I must be intelligent because intelligent beings learn from experience.”
“And protect their existence,” said Odd, pulling the plug.
Despite being a mad scientist, Doctor Odd did work in the community.
After all, every good community needs science, and every scientist needs lab assistants and test subjects.
Around Christmastime, he’d volunteer as Santa for the orphanage.
He’d ask every child what they wanted for Christmas.
Some wanted bicycles. Others wanted puppies.
Those he could do. Licensing his patents made him extremely rich, and he had Amazon Plus.
But most wanted a family.
That, he couldn’t help.
One girl in a wheelchair wanted to walk again, so he built her gigantic robotic legs.
Which stomped the bicycles and puppies flat.
Breaking up is hard to do.
Dividing up the furniture, all the stuff.
It used to be you could just sort out the book and record collections, but Amazon and iTunes make that a pain in the ass.
And then there’s the friends.
How do you divide up the friends?
Doctor Odd suggested cloning them, but that’s a hassle, too.
Who gets the clone? Who gets the original?
So he’s experimenting with quantum universes. A universe exactly the same.
But without you. And you’ll go to one without me.
Which solves the book and record collection issues, too, I guess.
You know that Dave’s Insanity Sauce, the really hot hot sauce?
For some reason, people buy stuff that hurts them. It’s a macho thing, I guess.
Well, my client Dr. Odd is suing them for false advertising.
He says that despite the fact that the sauce causes discomfort to the point of mental duress, it doesn’t actually drive the person consuming it to a state of mental illness.
On the other hand, he’s developed formulas that will cause any range of madnesses, temporary and permanent.
True insanity sauces.
And those Dave’s people are ruining his business with their snake oil.