People used to gather in my office when I was a Biochemist. Around Halloween I would make glowsticks from scratch, on the 4th of July – it was little fireworks using combinations of dry ice and various other chemicals.
On Easter, it was all about Peeps. The little yellow, pink, blue and blue marshmallow treats met their untimely demise in all different kinds of horrible ways.
Alas, I never had a video camera, and apparently I was a bad scientist for I didn’t keep a lab notebook of my experiments. I do remember using 37°C incubators, centrifuges, buffers, acid/base combinations, and of course experimental surgery.
Working in an active lab meant I had access to all kinds of cool toys. It was a garage for educated grownups. Way better than simple surgical tubing catapults, or air-compressor nail guns, my experiments required safety glasses and latex gloves for I was a card carrying member of the safety committee. I actually know what kind of paperwork would need to be filled out, and I didn’t want to have to explain to my boss that yellow blob with two black dots where the eyes occupying 14 square centimeters of the lab counter used to be at one time, a delicious easter treat.
If I was caught, which, thankfully I never was, I had my explanation all planned out. You see, at the time, the second Bush Administration had set the precedent that Enhanced Torture Techniques were acceptable. The abuse to the race of sugar baby chickens was widespread and advanced. You have probably never heard about this genocide, because there was nobody left to tell the story.
In two days I’ll pay homage to the Peeps. Most psychopaths are haunted by their actions. In their dreams, their survivors return to life to haunt them in their dreams. I too, have memories. My memories cause uncrollable bursts of laughter. And apparently I wasn’t alone in my maniacal thoughts. There is an entire website about peep experimentation, some of my tests are even duplicated for scientific clarity.
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