Derrick Holden
“On the other side of the chemistry lab, Sally Fisk measured out a precise quantity of liquid and poured it into a beaker, then continued with other chemicals. A glint in his eyes, a taut smile on his lips, Derrick Holden furtively ogled her. ‘That’s right, my angel,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘add 20 cc’s of potassium chloride and dream of Derrick nuzzling the button.’
‘Would you pull your weight, Holden?’ I bitched. ‘Give me a hand here. Read the instructions.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he cooed to himself. ‘Let Derrick feast on the bearded beast.’
Hemp Hempl, our friendly purveyor of illegal pharmacopoeia, came
over from his lab station. ‘Hey, guys … can I borrow your mortar and pestle?’
‘But this experiment doesn’t call for it,’ I replied, puzzled.
‘Then you won’t miss it, will you? I’m working on a little experimental project of my own. And would you mind if I checked out the supplies in the cabinet below you?’ He took out a shopping list of raw materials from his pocket. ‘My station’s poorly stocked. Isn’t Sally looking great today, Derrick? The picture of health.’
‘I’m afraid she’s not at all well,’ murmured Derrick. ‘I fear surgery’s necessary. Yes, I do believe,’ he said, surreptitiously holding the zipper of his fly, ‘that Dr. Johnson’s going to be performing an invasive procedure.’ ”