The volunteer
I was pottering about in the laboratory today, under the watchful eye of my father. Just the one, since the other is in the kitchen, in a jar of its own. So I was a little irritated when the doorbell rang, mainly because the lab is in the top room of the highest tower. It has to be there so that I don’t have to raise the table so high during thunderstorms.
Anyway, I made the long trek downstairs in no particular hurry. Usually the Scaly Swamp Thing deals with unwanted visitors before I get to the door. It’s less active in the winter, so my doorbell pealed another three or four times before I reached it.
On the doorstep was a very earnest-looking chap with a beard and entirely unsuitable sandals.
“What?” I said, because I was feeling charitable.
He held out a leaflet. “How do you feel about experiments on animals?”
I rubbed my chin. I hadn’t thought of that, and said so.
“Well, it happens all the time,” he said. “Animals are put through terrible procedures in labs all over the country.”
“Really? Where?” I was beginning to like this visitor, even though I thought it sounded like an awful waste of a good terrible procedure. Still, perhaps they were just practicing.
“All over,” he said. “I’m trying to put a stop to it.”
“Quite right.” I took his pamphlet and tossed it aside. Why would anyone waste a good experimental procedure on an animal? I smiled, but without showing my teeth this time. I didn’t want him to run like the others. “Would you like to see my laboratory?”
“You have a laboratory?” He seemed surprised. I could not see why, since from what he was telling me there were people with laboratories everywhere. He pursed his lips. “Do you experiment on animals?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” I said. “Do come inside.” I admit to being a little taken aback when he did, without all the usual yelling.
It’s been a long time since someone walked into my lab. Usually I have to sedate them first.
