You, a recently deformed mutant of one of his radical experiments, begin drooling with the lust for revenge, anticipating your instantaneous entry.

Why he wanted to experiment on someone your age is quite unknown to you, but what do know is that the beautiful, wonderful, conniving jerk had the most marvelous way with words. It's obvious now that he was only expressing an interest in you so that he may use you for his gruesome experimentations, but crystal clear hindsight does very little for you other than to annoy you.

If there was one thing that you couldn't stop asking yourself, it would be 'How could I be so naive?'. Or perhaps, 'Why on earth did he give me an iguana's tail, of all things?'. It didn't even fit your anatomy; it was no larger-than-life tail that suited the size of a human perfectly, it was an tiny little lizard tail that just looked plain silly. The question you asked yourself really depended on how things were going at any particular moment though. Like, for instance, how many times the tail had been caught in a door recently.

However, if there was one thing you kept telling yourself, no matter what, it was that he would never get away with it. For some reason the brilliant idea of breaking into his laboratory hadn't occurred to you until you were blindingly drunk. Curious, that.

But no, you remind yourself, you are not breaking in. The door opened for you, so you've done nothing wrong. You waltz right into the place (or at least as close as you can get with your horrible deformities and enough alcohol in your blood that you could get drunk off of it) and take a look around. Unfortunately, it remains stubbornly dark.

Well, for a moment anyway. But when the lights come on, painfully bright and strangely hot, you wish they would have just minded their own business. You wave a hand pitifully at them, covering your eyes with one of the other appendages you possess, and make annoyed groaning noises.

And then comes the voice.

"You're drunk," it states matter-of-factly, sounding tinny and slightly distant. The familiarity of the voice confuses you and you look around for the person speaking, but are disappointed by your lack of vision due to those blasted lights (and perhaps due to the alcohol as well).

"And, more importantly, you're here. Why?"

You recognize the voice now, and, in a moment of clarity, realize it's coming from a pesky speaker floating above you head. It's that idiot of a man, and he hadn't even got off his lazy behind to chide you in person; he was using his intercom system. Why, he was probably still in bed!

"I'm not drunk," you insist drunkenly, ignoring his second comment and first question entirely. You decide that deciding on a decisive course of action would be a wise decision.

The End

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