Day Twelve: Drat!

Write a post with roots in a real-world conversation. For a twist, include foreshadowing.


Submerged in 80% alcohol, the carcasses laid motionless in their respective packages.

I was loading my gels, and praying earnestly that it’ll work this time – a perfectly ordinary day at work. That is, until the usual silence got broken by employees from the other group.

“How many have you killed?”

“None,” came her reply.

“Wait! Did you mean today only? Or my entire career thus far?” she added after a second thought. “You know I can’t answer the latter. I’ve lost count!” she chuckled.

The man in white giggled like a little girl.

“You deserve to die, you! Killed so many!” he exclaimed, in between his bouts of ‘heheehee’s.

“Unlike you,” she scoffed, “you deserved to die since the day you were born, even without killing any.”

The man in white only laughed some more. His giggles were so infectious, I couldn’t help but join in as well. Subtly, of course, lest they find out about my eavesdropping. But the damage has been done. One of my agarose wells got punctured by the pipette in my hand, trembling hard from trying to reign in my laughter.

And stowed aside in a box, in the corner of the laboratory bench, those dead mice sat, patiently awaiting the day their deaths would be worth the while.


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