Saturday, October 01, 2005

Meeces to Pieces

Pharyngula: Tales of the X-Mice: how to regenerate

I'm called The "Contract" Cleaner—a master of my trade,
But in Heber-Katz's lab last night my limits were displayed.
A broken cage, the signs of raging rodents round the room:
Just mice, mere silly mice, but still, I'd need more than my broom.

A man can make a mundane job rewarding if he's smart—
See simple tasks as challenges to solve by works of art.
My finely balanced pressure plate with cheese as murid lure
Was coupled to supports to hold a deadweight insecure.
(I must disclose the weights I chose to pin the pesky species
were stacks of Darwin's unknown work, The Origin of Squeeshies.)

At twelve o'clock I heard the knock as trap slapped on its prey.
At twelve-o-one the mouse had won. He'd shrugged and slipped away!
The mouse had thumbed his nose, but I suppose I mustn't grouse;
I'd built a better mousetrap but this beast's a better mouse.

I worried that this furried monster mouse may beat the rap,
So listen while I hasten to describe a better trap:

The opto-sensor trigger tips the Dewar flask, and then
It empties out its contents—dousing mouse in liquid N.
The icepick spring releases, shatters mousicle to bits
(And the pieces of the meeces can be added to your grits).

I baited then I waited, sitting down to read a book.
—Scurry, munch-munch, Slop! Crash! Tinkle!—so I stood and took a look.
As I watched, the mouse-frits melted, drew together in a pool,
To a mousey bloody puddle—while I waited like a fool.
The puddle writhed and wriggled; it was then my jaw fell slack.
It scampered off on regrown legs and giggled, "I'll be back."

So now I'm just The Cleaner—I'm limiting my claim.
I won't be cleaning science labs; I cannot bear the shame.
Those boffins in their labcoats mate a mouse with mousey spouse.
I'd build a better mousetrap, but they'd breed a better mouse.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Deep Thinker

Pharyngula: Great pelagic orgies!

He wears his Lovecraft T-shirt;
the girls all think he's weird.
He wears his Lovecraft T-shirt
and sports a scraggly beard.
He wears his Lovecraft T-shirt
It cost him fifteen quid.
He wears his Lovecraft T-shirt
'cause he's
hung like a squid.

He wears his Lovecraft T-shirt
and tries to pull the geeks.
He wears his Lovecraft T-shirt
unwashed for forty weeks.
He wears his Lovecraft T-shirt
for fashion? Gods forbid!
He wears his Lovecraft T-shirt
'cause he's
hung like a squid.

The HP Lustcraft email told him all he'd need to know:
"The symbol on your shirt is sexy—squid are Big Below.
Ten tentacles will tell your temptress of your special size!"
Our luckless loser finally figured—
spam's full of lies.

So now...

He wears his Melville T-shirt,
but only once a week.
His nights are filled with nymphets
all drawn to his physique.
He learned to lure the ladies,
So let's not call him thick.
He wears his Melville T-shirt
'cause his
brain's in his Dick.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Wise Kraken

Pharyngula: "los diablos rojos"?

Tabloid Canadian
Libels the Humboldt with
Fishermen's tales,

Marking himself as a
First to be food when the
Old one prevails.

Captain Beaky

Pharyngula: Cephalopod gnashers

Two-spot the octopus
Suckers his snacks with his
Tangly physique,

Munching his meals with a
Chitinous crab-opening
Muscle-bound beak.