Left beaten, bloodied and bruised in a ditch somewhere, @MadMikeMarsbergen lost the Pot 1 Finals of SmackDown: The Second Coming to @torontojim (who later ended up winning the Grand Finals, too). Now he's back to get some revenge on all you competit...
Professor John Cochran paced impatiently around his tiny Cambridge University laboratory muttering to himself, "...flipping Americans, never on time..." He checked his pocket watch for the fifteenth time and shook his head causing his wire-rimmed glasses to slide down his fleshy nose. He pushed them back with his middle finger, ran his fingers through his chestnut hair and continued pacing and muttering.
When the knock at the door finally came it made him jump and in his haste to open it he kicked the bundle of thick cables that snaked across the floor.
"Oh Hells bells! Just a moment!" He rushed around the lab checking connections and when he was sure everything was still plugged in and working properly he smoothed his tweed suit, straightened his bow tie and opened the door.
Branch Dawson was leaning comfortably against the door frame checking his cell phone and exuding testosterone. Branch was ostensibly Johns' assistant but somehow John always felt like it was the other way around. Branch was tall and handsome with a ten thousand watt smile and people just seem to gravitate to him (especially women). Today he was wearing an incredibly tight t-shirt and torn dungarees. Mirrored sunglasses covered his light blue eyes and his wavy blond hair hung boyishly over his wide forehead.
"Good afternoon Branch, please come in..." John said stepping to one side.
Branch stretched lazily and strolled into the lab.
"So what's so important that I had to rush right over here? Did ya break another piece of equipment? You gotta be more careful Cochran, or they're gonna pull yer funding..."
Johns' ears turned red with embarrassment and he involuntarily glanced over at the electroscope he had dropped yesterday.
"Oh no Branch, everything is tickety-boo. In fact, I have made a major break through!"
John led him over to the workbench. A white sheet had been draped over the top and with a magician's dramatic flourish John pulled the sheet away and yelled, "Viola!"
A hexagonal frame stood upright in the middle of the workbench. It was no more than a foot high and made of gold colored metal. Copper wires wrapped around the frame at set intervals and a black cable ran from the frame to a junction box and then connected to the bundle of cables on the floor. Hanging in the air in the dead center of the frame was a small black dot.
Branch looked unimpressed. "What is it?" He yawned.
John looked crestfallen but plowed ahead. "What do you mean Branch? Can't you tell? Look closely, old man... in the center of the frame!"
Branch leaned in and peered at the object. "So... it's a dot?"
