Roland Zuzzagard peered quizzically through the upper level of his bifocals at the murky brown fluid thrashing about his conical flask.

Could this be it? He pondered. Could this be the answer to the seemingly endless years of pain he had endured?

He nervously placed the flask on a pedestal constructed from bone and flashed his spindly frame across his makeshift laboratory, carved deep within the bowels of a forgotten tin mine. Sparks flew from the exhausts of his custom-made brogues as he steeled his way towards the control panel. With the fingers of a man on the edge of sanity he keyed in the unlocking sequence. He waited.

Suddenly, a column of glass descended from the cavern roof like shit off a shovel. A satisfyingly audible click could be heard as the glass seamlessly connected with the pedestal. Heavy machinery came to life almost instantaneously, and Roland’s heavy eyes widened in expectation.

A vision blisteringly bright white light descended from the tube and made its way slowly towards the flask. Roland fingered a small lever nervously. Not yet. Not yet. NOW!

As the unearthly light came into contact with the liquid Roland’s miserably dull hand thrust the lever into the “ON” position. The deafening sound of a laser beam cutting through spacetime filled Roland’s ears accompanied by a fucking well strong wind that felt tepid and reeked of foul play. Then. Silence.

Roland fastened his cloak defiantly. His brogues whirred into life, gliding their way to the pedestal. Waiting for the smoke to clear, Roland grew increasingly nervous. This anxiety manifested itself as clear beads of sweat, conglomerating tightly on his top lip, like Asians in a Volvo. He brushed them aside with the back of his hand. This was no time for a sweat tache.

To be continued…