Tales of the Parodyverse

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killer shrike offers a tiny smidgen of his next storyline
Sun Nov 12, 2006 at 06:22:21 pm EST
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Bad Genes, Part One
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Bad Genes, Part One



Mr. Epitome fell face first, but used his enhanced speed and reflexes to get his arm out in front of him, letting him execute a handspring/corkscrew/backflip counter instead of a graceless crash onto the training mat.

“Good form,” he told his attacker once he was set on his feet.

Minx, Teenage Mutant Samurai Kitten, brought her palms together and bowed at the waist, “You honor me, Epitome-san.”

There was a sarcastic sounding growl from her, “I so could have flipped him,” her fellow feline/human hybrid Ginger protested, “Only I would have executed a leg sweep so he wouldn’t have recovered so fast. And then I’d –“

“Enough talk,” Anastasia said, twitching her tail expectantly, “I want to play with the big Flag Man again.”

“Actually,” Dominic held up a restraining hand to the approaching Persian, “We’re done here. Dr. Harper, based on my observations I would say Minx, Ginger, and Anastasia do possess the equivalent knowledge of a black belt in Akido.”

From her seat on a nearby pommel horse Amy Aston shrugged, “We already knew the cats were good with the kung fu.”

“I didn’t see any evidence of proficiency in that particular discipline,” the Man of Might deadpanned as he removed his cowl.

“No? Perhaps with further trials then,” Dr. Al B Harper stated, “But the results of our experiment reveal the subjects, er, I mean to say, Minx, Ginger, and Anastasia possess inherent understanding of complex physical and social ritualistic behaviors they have no prior familiarity with. This is another step in confirming my hypothesis theses skill sets have been acquired by exposure to a mutagen which recombined their genetic codes with that of the Psychic Samurai. You’re familiar with the experiments of Dr. James McConnell at the University of Michigan, Mr. Epitome?”

“Yes,” the Legionnaire replied simply.

Harper nodded, “His work with Dugesia dorotocephala went a long way towards confirming the link between Ribonucleic Acid and memory. Is there something the matter, Amy?”

The young woman repeated an oft-used refrain, “Just waiting for the footnotes, Al.”

Epitome provided them, “In 1953 McConnell trained a group of planarian worms to run a maze. Then he chopped them up and fed them to another group, which subsequently completed the course with an identical efficacy as the originals, despite no conditioning.”

“Similar results were achieved by injecting unschooled worms with the RNA of the successful maze-runners, and also with other organisms, including rats, goldfish, and canaries. But to see such a transference of complex memories in more highly-evolved organisms... it is very exciting!”

“You are aware that McConnell’s work has been largely discredited,” Dominic reminded his fellow Legionnaire.

“By conventional science, yes,” Harper frowned, “Those narrow-minded objectivists shackled by ‘logic’, unable to see the forest for the trees. I’ve had to deal with their kind throughout my scholastic and professional life. Why, at university, they dared to call me mad!”

“But you showed them, right, Al? Them, and the world!” Amy said.

The physicist blinked, “Well, of course,” he replied, seemingly oblivious to the jibe.

“What’s Sensei talking about?” Ginger whispered to Minx in Japanese during Al B’s rant, “Is he saying we have worms?!”

“You, maybe. Bast only knows where you’ve been,,” Anastasia looked down her whiskers at her sister.

“Don’t try to get all high and mighty with me, Princess! We all smelled your musk when that tom came by earlier,” the russet-haired Bonsai Kitten shot back

“I didn’t mean to! It was by instinct!”

“Quiet! Both of you!” Minx hissed, “Such bickering dishonors Sensei!”

“What are you ladies talking about?” Al B interrupted the cabal of kittens.

“Nothing, Sensei,” Anastasia and Minx said in unison.

“Princess was wondering where her boyfriend went,” Ginger added with a smirk.

The Persian popped her claws, “Shut up!”

“No, you shut up!” Ginger growled, arching her back in preparation to pounce.

“Ooo: catfight,” Amy observed, “I got twenty on the redhead.”

“There will be no fighting,” the arch scientist said firmly, stepping between the sisters, “You are to return to your rooms and meditate on what you’ve done.”

“Yes, Sensei,” the trio acquiesced.

“Even with all that, they’re still less trouble than Kara,” Al B referenced his alternate reality daughter as the Bonsai Kittens slunk off.

“True dat. Hey,” Amy looked at Epitome, “What did you do with Lisa’s cat anyway?”

“I put it where it would not be underfoot,” the American Archetype stated as he picked a sizeable jet black hair from his costume, “Geosynchronous orbit.”

“You threw Lisa’s cat into outer space?!” the mechanic in the grime covered bib overalls checked. Then she grinned, “Heh.”

Dominic returned the smirk, “The thing is supposedly indestructible, so it’s not in any pain. And Miss Waltz will be able to summons it back to Earth at her leisure.”

“When do you intend to tell Lisa about her cat's... exile?” Harper checked, as he planned on being as far from Ground Zero as possible when that took place.

“I don’t know. Christmas?”

Al B shook his head. Obviously there was room for just one Alpha Male in the mansion tonight.

*****













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