Doctor Odd’s red-rimmed eyes peered at the hundreds of monitors on the wall.
“Why are you watching all of these science conferences at once?” asked his assistant.
“I must remain current,” said Odd. “I cannot allow ignorance to take a hold of my great mind. I must know everything.”
The assistant smirked. “Don’t you need to sleep at some point?”
“I am asleep,” said the mad scientist, tapping the glowing green steel cap on his head. “This device allows me to dream all of this.”
His assistant shrugged, turned into a hot dog, and flew back to the Mushroom Kingdom.
Nobody wants to see-saw with little Harvey, so Dr. Odd programmed the teaching assistant robot to see-saw.
Kids love robots. Now every kid wants to see-saw with the robot. But instead of taking turns, they fight.
Fights aren’t healthy, so Dr. Odd reprogrammed the robot to stop see-sawing.
Without the robot, the kids didn’t want to see-saw anymore.
Except for Harvey. Poor Harvey, sitting all alone.
That’s not healthy either. So Dr. Odd reprogrammed him, too.
Harvey’s much happier playing tag and pulling pigtails with the rest of the kids.
How do you feel about that?
Sad? Well, hold still.
Doctor Odd looked at the destruction in the yard, sighed, and kneeled down to talk to his daughter.
“Pumpkin,” he said. “Remember when Daddy taught you about grafting?”
Pumpkin nodded her head.
“Well, there’s a good kind of grafting and a bad kind. Good grafting is when you combine plant varieties to make bug-resistant species or crops that survive droughts.”
“Bad grafting is what you did with your friend Bobby, the lawnmower, and your dog.”
“Daddy will clean up this mess. Now go wash up for dinner.”
Pumpkin ran inside and squealed happily for tater tots.
Doctor Odd held the eggs against the phase-regulated vacuum pump and flipped the switch.
“Watch!” he yelled.
The eggs vibrated for a moment, glowed red, and then their insides dropped into the skillet below.
“Success,” said Odd, inspecting the shells.
Not a crack.
“You can’t do this!” shouted his assistant. “This is madness! You cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs!”
“You’re right,” said Odd, looking at the bubbling eggy goop in the frying pan.
“Thank God you came to your senses, Doctor,” said his assistant.
“What was I thinking?” said Doctor Odd. “It needs peppers and mushrooms!”
I see you like the box. Would you like to know what it does?
Press the button once, and the box will buzz.
Press the button two times, and the box plays music.
Press the button three times, and the music stops.
Press the button four times, and the box will sparkle with pretty green lights for five seconds.
Press the button five times, and the box will emit a cloud of lemon-scented steam.
Whatever you do, don’t push and hold the button.
What happens? Well, according to my blueprints, the world ends.
You have yourself a box.
Ever since he first heard the song, Dr. Odd has been working hard on getting Jesse’s girl for Rick Springfield.
At first, he tried pheromones and hypnosis. That just made her confused and somewhat psychotic.
He considered violently removing Jesse from the picture, but that would just get the girl worried about Jesse.
Finally, he decided cloning was the correct route. Using accelerated growth tanks, he produced a perfect biological replica.
Without any of the emotional or intellectual experience of Jesse’s girl, of course. Her mind was a complete blank.
As for Dr. Odd, well, success hasn’t spoiled him yet.
“Ladies and gentlemen – observe!”
Doctor Odd wheeled the patient into the gigantic auditorium and began his presentation on the Applied Healing Power Of Laughter.
As the lecture progressed into carefully-orchestrated absurdity, thousands of doctors in the audience began to laugh.
And laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
Soon, the entire audience roared with laughter… into the Sonic Focusing Array!
Doctor Odd turned a few knobs, threw switches, and yelled “Now watch this!”
The patient’s wheelchair shook, glowed blue…
Despite the setback, Doctor Odd still managed to get funding from the Pentagon.
Weapon of mass hysteria, they called it.
Doctor Odd received the express written consent of Major League Baseball on Monday.
By Wednesday, Idaho was gone. Totally vanished. Nowhere to be found.
The market reacted quickly. Prices for potatoes skyrocketed. “Would you like fries with that?” was whispered only among the wealthy.
Congress held weeks of hearings, but they never did receive an adequate explanation from the baseball commissioner or Doctor Odd.
He said he was just being patriotic and trying to make Syria vanish, but his calculations were off by a bit.
What I found strange was that nobody ever asked for him to bring Idaho back.