“Holding a dissected liver in one hand and a pot of brains in the other, he stood, eyes closed, and sung his lungs out. Penbert, his efficient assistant, who hated opera music, especially when Titus sang it, stood with her fingers in her ears and waited for it to stop. The song Titus was currently singing was a particularly bad one because Titus had written it himself. The song was called “I Feel Offal,” which will serve as a small clue as to quite how bad it was. Luckily for Penbert, who had be...tter things to do, like getting on with her matchstick model of a chicken, the song was almost at its end. “And though I am quite keeeeeeeen!” sang Titus, arms aloft. “To extract your spleeeeeeeeeeen! There is nothing badder! Than a moldy blaaaaaaaaaadder!” As the last note rang out, Titus slumped forward into a dramatic bow. Penbert took her fingers out of her ears. “Bravo, Dr. Kooks,” she said, adding a small, halfhearted smatter of applause. “Now, as I was saying, I’m not sure if hydrofluoric acid is going to work because—”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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