Sort of a scene
[From The Permanent Modes by Bryan Ray]
The snow was so heavy and deep that it was almost impossible to navigate; but the Scientist pretended that he found a lost mule, which he saddled and rode to the front door of the gothic bell tower. He swung the brass ring hanging from the gargoyle’s muzzle, which served as a knocker.
Not a soul responded.
The Scientist determined that it must be safe to enter, so he creaked open the door and tiptoed over the linoleum. To his left was the plexiglass tank where his love had been lowered. She was only supposed to be briefly immersed and then removed, but the attack interrupted the procedure, and she was in there for ages. Thinking of these things, the Scientist raised his elephant gun to the side of the tank and blasted a hole. A silvery liquid glittered though the newly forced aperture. The Scientist, sliding atop the ice, surfed over to the tank. He was hoping to see his bride inside, still alive – but instead there appeared a Giant Glowing Scorpion.
The bride of the Scientist had been transformed into this monster after being abandoned to the concoction of the plexi-tank for longer than was conducive to human wellbeing.
Perceiving this, the Scientist gasped and stumbled back away from the wall of the tank. The Giant Scorpion crashed out of the glass, and stood there flexing its pincers. It was red, but the snow and ice had accentuated its contours, giving it a steamy, dazzling, bright white, sinister aura. Moreover its antennae were very evilly frosted.
The universe came to a halt at that moment, and an alternate realm was seen rotating in front of our eyes. It was red, and had molten lava storms gilding its shell, as the globe of Jupiter.
The Scientist fixed himself a drink. When his brain came back into focus, he sat down in the new lab, amid the beakers and vials. He decided he needed somehow to befriend the Giant Scorpion, for the beast was still his bride, and, as such, should be cherished. So he created an electrically powered box that would summon werewolves when the button on its console was compressed.
Now the Scientist had an assistant – a wigged fellow with goggles. They lived in the lab day and night combining ingredients. The Scorpion stayed in the western hemisphere of the room; there were three chairs and a folding table in addition to the scientific countertops lining the east side, and silver knickknacks, torpedoes, and other atomic devices on the shelves. There was a short oval stool at the opposite end of the countertop, and sometimes the Giant Scorpion would sit there and writhe.
The only window in the new laboratory was blinded by tricolor curtains. A fake arm hung from the wall.
So the Scientist began to argue with his subordinate. (He and his assistant were appareled in matching white smocks.) The assistant was worried that the Scientist’s plan to transform the Giant Scorpion into a handmaid was unethical. The assistant asked that they halt for a moment of prayer. “O dark one,” he said, “do your will: please aid us as we take this creature and morph it into an otherworldly crossbreed to slake our desires—such as a bride for my employer, or a lizard, or a half-human feline—yes, guide the hand of Zostrianos as he operates upon this Giant Mutant Scorpion. And bless our unsaved families also, amen.”
The Scientist and the assistant unfolded their hands, and dropped them to their sides. But before they began the experiment, the twain cast guarded looks upon each other (for Scientists are always at enmity with their assistants). The Giant Scorpion understood nothing of this, neither the prayer, nor the reciprocal mistrust.
Suddenly they looked, and upon the sofa there was a purring black feline.
The smocked men stood side by side for a lengthy duration. They were steeped in hatred: the assistant resented his master’s superior intellect; and the Scientist envied the vim of his handsome assistant. Each harbored thoughts of malice for the other, and privately considered phoning the authorities.
At that moment, the black cat slunk from the sofa.
They put the Giant Scorpion on a table, and connected that table by electric tubing to three others. On the additional tables were corpses of beautiful women. The first woman was wearing a monocle and had no pulse. The Scientist used a sucker to retrieve some vampire fluid from her left bone ventricle. The other two corpses were in coffins attended by a pair of morticians who were plainly inebriated. The corpses in the coffins may or may not have been still living. They were speaking, but their voices were unclear. There is too much hope in the world, they seemed to be saying.
The Scientist pretended the guard by the door was invisible, so that the police could not get involved. The morticians had gravelly voices and dreamt of suppers with fine cigars, when wakefulness was with them.
So the principal guard stood unseen, flanking the door; and the police were nearby. A phone was in use. Tension was mounting.