The Bimbo Maker
Copyright© 2011 by Janno Jones
Chapter 1
Philbert Morrison was insanely smart about physics and math, but a hopeless nerd when it came to women.
He got teased a lot for his lumpy, awkward body and his Coke bottle glasses and his acne. One teacher, a skinny harpy named Mrs. Walsh, seemed to enjoy tormenting him. She taught English, and she loved to tear about Philbert's papers, returning them to him with big red editing marks on them, and even reading his ungrammatical sentences to the class as examples of bad writing.
He was terrible at writing, he knew that.
In science, it was a different story. He had a gift for nanotechnology, and he built a lab in his parents' basement where he did cutting edge nanotech research late at night.
In was the possibilities for transformation of matter that fascinated him. With nanotechnology you operated on the quantum level, and the changes you made there could transform matter into any size, shape, texture -- into anything at all.
Why, you could even change somebody's body!
When that realization occurred to him it was like a light going off. He figured out a way to make a nano chip that was so small it was almost invisible to the naked eye. The chip, when ingested in the human body, would make changes at the cellular level, turning on certain genes and switching off others -- so that a person's whole physical makeup would change.
He called it the Bimbo Maker. He programmed everything he liked about bimbos -- their stupidity, their obsession with clothes and their hair, their love of cock -- into a nano chip.
And then he took it to school.
And he put it in Mrs. Walsh's water bottle.
He waited while she droned on about the use of metaphor in Shakespeare's plays, her bony fingers jabbing the air when she made a point, her thin lips curled in a cruel smile when she found a boy or girl she could humiliate because they hadn't been paying attention, her voice as screechy as a fingernail scraped across a blackboard.
And then she stopped and took a drink from the blue plastic water bottle on her desk.
She went back to the blackboard and started writing on it, but halfway through the word "Shakespeare" she stopped.
"Oopsy," she said, in a high-pitched voice. "I forgot how to spell that word."
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