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Humor
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Contributed by Alexander Phillips
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Tuesday, 13 September 2005 |
A New Beginning
By Alexander Phillips © 2005
(Click to jump to parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 or 9)
Within a few months Gregor began performing at birthday parties. However, Wilbur discouraged Gregor from ‘showing off’ in public with spelling and math demonstrations. “The police will take you away from us,” he warned Gregor, who was suitably chastened. On the strength of Gregor’s local entertainment credentials, Wilbur obtained an audition for a children’s movie in which a St. Bernard saved a mountaineer. Wilbur and Gregor were prepared when they appeared at the suburban office commandeered by the director, a pale faced twenty-something with a ponytail.
“Turn in circles,” Wilbur directed Gregor. “Lie down. Cry. Jump onto the chair. Threaten the grip over there — yeah, the guy with the parabolic light. Okay, now crawl to the director and beg.” At Gregor’s pause, Wilbur said, “I know it’s humiliating, Gregor, but we need this part.” Gregor threw himself down at the director and crawled forward begging, mouthing something like, ‘Help me.’ The director had never seen a dog act so well in response to so many complicated commands. And Wilbur employed few visual cues.
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Contributed by Alexander Phillips
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Monday, 05 September 2005 |
Wilbur Confronts Gregor's Creator
By Alexander Phillips © 2005
(Click to jump to parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 or 8)
At once Wilbur drove with Gregor to Samson Crison’s house. As Wilbur sped up the winding country road into the damp forests, Gregor became nauseous. At the ‘Cri on’ mailbox, in the premature dark of a forest floor, they bounced down the dirt drive, lights off. Turning the car around in front of the dilapidated house, for a quick getaway, Wilbur killed the engine and hopped out. Gregor followed. They walked to the front door, on which Wilbur knocked, while Gregor stood back, alert. No one answered. Wilbur walked around the back of the small house. Gregor nervously covered their rear in the gathering night.
They found a series of pens, within which Wilbur could just make out by light from the house and a shed some donkeys, dogs, and monkeys. The animals rustled silently at their arrival, crying out in anguished. A door creaked and a flood of light emitted from the shed behind the pens. A backlit man emerged, wearing a long garment — a white lab coat, snapping off sterile plastic gloves. When he turned slightly, Wilbur saw that it was Samson Crison.
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Contributed by Alexander Phillips
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Saturday, 03 September 2005 |
The Dog Starts Writing
By Alexander Phillips © 2005
(Click to jump to parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 or 7)
Wilbur sat at a computer in his study, researching the latest scientific research on cross-species stem cell research. The Shanghai Second Medical University had fused human cells with rabbit eggs. The Mayo Clinic in Minnesota had created a pig through which human blood flowed. Human stem cells had been implanted in adult monkey brains. At Stanford University a mouse had been born with a 100% human brain. These were chimeras, a hybrid of human and animal. There was widespread fear and horror of them, especially those, like monkeys, which might exhibit human traits. But promising therapeutic methods pressed scientists forward. Already symptoms of Parkinson’s disease had been reduced in humans by replacing lost brain tissue with human fetal stem cells. Ethical controversy delayed and restricted much of the research. Wilbur figured that Samson Crison had accelerated his discoveries by working in a secret, outside of all strictures.
Gregor padded slowly into Wilbur’s study. The dog’s skin hung at his sides, as with mature St. Bernards. He stood next to a plastic carpet, a toy which had a piano keyboard fabricated into the vinyl, a whole chromatic chord at jumbo size, intended for human feet. Gregor pressed a paw on the first key, sounding an A note from small speakers attached to the electronic toy. Also, the letter ‘a’ appeared on a monitor on the floor. Wilbur had modified this musical toy in order to allow Gregor to write easily. Gregor glanced at the monitor and continued typing. With musical accompaniment, he wrote, ‘am i dog’.
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Contributed by Alexander Phillips
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Thursday, 01 September 2005 |
The Dog's Maker Shows Up
By Alexander Phillips © 2005
(Click to jump to parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 or 6)
“Hello?”
Wilbur had opened his front door to the sepulcher Crison, who had sold them Gregor.
“I was wondering,” said Crison in an oily undertaker’s tone, “how your uh dog was?”
“Fine,” said Wilbur.
“I uh was uh in the neighborhood and I uh heard that uh your uhhhh dog does some amazing uhhh tricks.”
The strain of politeness was causing Crison to sweat, but Wilbur did not make the visitor’s position any easier. “What do you want?”
“Might I uh see the dog?”
Wilbur had been thinking about this meeting for some time. “If you tell me something.”
“Uh, what?”
“How did you manipulate his embryo?”
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Contributed by Alexander Phillips
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Saturday, 27 August 2005 |
By Alexander Phillips © 2005
(Click to jump to parts 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5)
On walks around the neighborhood now, Wilbur often engaged in monologues with Gorgy. The giant dog would run ahead to pee, his urine flowing like a little spring on the roots of street trees. “I was thinking a new name might be good for you,” Wilbur said one evening to the dog. “‘Gorgy’ sounds odd,” Wilbur explained, “at least in English.” That was especially true, Wilbur believed, for a somber and massive St. Bernard. “I think ‘Gregor’ would be a better name for you. ’Gregor’ is more distinguished, err, I mean, nicer, more normal.” The dog padded on, dragging his leash in the event the city policing units tried to cite Wilbur. “You can think about it.”
The dog barked happily back at Wilbur.
“You like ‘Gregor’?”
The dog sneezed excitedly.
“Gregor it is,” Wilbur said, stroking the dog’s round back. “I’ll tell the family.” Wilbur basked a moment in the canine companionship. As a result of this developing relationship, the stodgy accountant exhibited a new vitality and cheerfulness. He had lost some of his paunch and was fitter overall, as well.
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