May 22 2012

Larvae and the people that love them

There are some people that say that you don’t choose your pets; your pets choose you. In this case, they may be right.

The morning started fairly normally, breakfast for the kids, lunches being packed, and a somewhat bizarre conversation about how useful it might be to have a magnetron embedded in your robot arm.

Benefits: The ability to quickly prepare hot beverages and to shoot popcorn into your enemies eyes…

Negatives: None!

We wonder why every robot doesn’t have one…

As pieces of fruit were selected for their lunch boxes, we noticed a rather grim looking pear in the basket. Closer inspection revealed that a family of fruit flies had recently taken up residence. The pear had turned to the dark side. As it began its brief journey to the rubbish bin, RJ spoke up:

RJ: Wait!

Dad: Yeah?

RJ: I… Can I have that?

Dad: This? The rotten pear?

RJ: Ummm. Yes? I need it.

Dad: What on earth for?

RJ: I… I want to do an experiment.

(He’s crafty, this one. He knows that science is the ultimate trump card in our family.)

Dad: What kind of experiment?

RJ: Well… I want to breed some some mutant fruit flies.

Dad: And how do you plan to do that?

RJ: First, I need to extract some carrot DNA, and then I’ll feed it to them. And then…

Dad: Hold up! That wont work! I eat banana DNA all the time and I’m not a yellow bellied mutant. Stomachs break down DNA when they digest it.

RJ: Curses! What if I just put it on the eggs? Before they hatch? Before they have stomachs?

Dad: That might just work.

RJ: And then I’ll have mutant orange fruit flies! And I can take over the world!

Dad: Okay. But your evil plans have to wait until you get home from school. You’re still in your pajamas, Dr. Doom.

RJ's latest pets, and the ingredients for their carroty future -- key components of his plan for world domination.

RJ's latest pets, and the ingredients for their carroty future -- key components of his plan for world domination.


Sep 24 2009

Never Speak Its Name

(at the dinner table)

RJ: I’m drinking fly blood. Arrgggllugluglugluglugllugl. (starts gargling milk)

Dad & Mum: RJ! Stop that! No gargling at the dinner table!

RJ: (craftily) I love drinking fly blood. I’m a spider. (starts making motions to begin gargling again)

Dad: Watch it spider, or I’ll turn your fly blood into…  moo juice.

RJ: (angry, yelling) THERE IS NO SUCH THING! THERE IS NO MOO JUICE!

Please.......don´t stomp me

More fly blood please!