Wild-Ass Mom

Continued from Wild-Ass Recipe


We join Sebastian and François in their shared bedroom/laboratory as they peruse a version of Paracelsus‘ homunculus recipe.

“So?” Sebastian persisted. “Whaddaya think? Do you wanna do it or not?”

François sighed, shaking his head. “I dunno, dude. It’s pretty creepy…”

“Of course it’s creepy. We’re not makin’ a birthday cake!”

“I know, but…like, I don’t even know what a curcurbite is. Do you —”

“A pumpkin,” Sebastian interrupted. A curcurbit is a pumpkin.”

“Yeah? Then why doesn’t the guy call it a pumpkin?”

“Well let’s see. Maybe because back then they weren’t called pumpkins?”

“Whatever.” François waved his brother’s comment away.  “What about the horse manure? Where’s that gonna come from?”

“Ummm.” Sebastian feigned concentration. “Horses?”

“You know what I mean!”

“What’s really buggin’ you, Frankie?”

“Nothin.'” François rose from his chair and began pacing the room. He jammed his hands in his jean pockets. “Nothin’s buggin’me.”

“Uh-huh.” Sebastian folded his arms across his chest and grinned knowingly. “I bet I know what’s freakin’ you out.”

The tips of Françoise’s ears reddened, matching his cheeks. “Shut up, Sebo.”

“You’re worried about the number three ingredient, aren’t you?”

François rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know what number three is.”


“Okay, so who’s gonna, I mean, where we gettin’ it?”

Still grinning, Sebastian cocked an eyebrow at his brother.

“No way, dude!” François countered, wide-eyed and nearly begging. “You know what’ll happen if we do that!”

We aren’t doing anything.” Sebo giggled. “It’s a solo gig.”

“Well, I’m not the one who’s gonna go blind!

“What?” Sebo puzzled. “Blind? Frankie, what are —”

“Don’t you know anything?” Frankie blustered.People go blind from…y’know…solo gigs.”

Sebastian doubled over in laughter. “Who, who toldja that?”





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