Are You Made…
Are you made…
The chem lab smelled like every other chem lab she’d ever been in, except ten times worse. Ainsley was pretty sure that by the look of the folks sitting around the room, her fellow chemistry classmates found the smell of toxic chemicals pleasant. In fact, according to the looks that the two weirdos in the corner were giving each other, the stench in the room might even be an aphrodisiac for some chem majors. It definitely wasn’t having that affect on her. Holy crap! it stunk in here. As if an 8 o’clock lab wasn’t bad enough, she had to enroll in the one held on the lowest level of Dante’s sulfuric hell. This semester was so going to suck.
The room was quiet as they waited for the professor to show up. Ainsley nursed her mug of coffee and watched the tables fill up with similarly tired students. The professor breezed in, a stack of notes in one hand and the other wildly gesticulating to the wary looking TA following behind him. It was as if Einstein had returned from the dead, gained about seventy pounds and sported tan polyester pants with grease and ink stains. Great, the “TBA” on her course list was the registrar’s code for “let’s surprise these chem majors with Davies or they’ll never sign up for this class”.
Great, the smelliest lab ever and a mad scientist for her prof at 8 o’clock in the freaking morning.
“Good morning. I’m Doctor Davies and this is your TA, Theodore Zimcosky. If you did not, in fact, register for Chemistry 220, and therefore Lab 220L, you may take your leave now.” He kept talking but Ainsley’s attention was caught by the late-comer who had just taken the stool beside her.
He was lanky and wore glasses and a stocking cap. He reminded her of a better dressed Waldo. He grinned at her as he claimed much more than his share of the black-topped table.
When the syllabus came around to their side of the room, Ainsley got up to grab to stack from the lover-boy half of the canoodlers. After sliding two copies in Waldo-Boy’s direction, she stepped forward and passed the remaining stack to the table in front of them.
A few moments later, Waldo-Boy wrote something in his comp book and then tore it out. He slid it over until it sat next to her elbow. A note? Ainsley waited until Dr. Davies was looking the other direction and then she opened it. The handwriting was spiky and listed to the left.
“Girl, are you made of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic and Sulfer? Because, you’ve got a NiCe AsS. :)”
Ainsley looked back at Waldo-Boy and raised her eyebrows. He held his palms up and shrugged. Leaning her direction, he whispered, “Sorry, it’s the only chemistry joke I know. Lame, I know. I’m Brandon by the way.” He held a long-fingered hand out in her direction.
As she shook it, Ainsley thought to herself, “Perhaps this class might not be so horrible after all.”
The prompt that Mister Soandso gave me is actually the entire joke, but I didn’t want to ruin it for you by listing it in its entirety. Hope it made you smile, even if it is a corny chemistry joke. But really, can you ever have too many corny chemistry jokes?