In the dead of night, Wilkins Hall at the Miskatonic University is a quiet and foreboding place. A sense of dread seems to permeate this particular building, and it feels especially menacing in the late night hours in which Dr. Lovejoy and I choose to conduct our decidedly unorthodox research. Our secrecy is essential, chiefly due to the small mindedness of certain members of the university's faculty, specifically, Dr. Goodbody, the head of the anatomy department, who's antiquated theories on brain death do not jibe with my own. Goodbody has taken an intense dislike to me ever since finding a dead rat in his Dukes of Hazzard lunch box that he insists I put there. He also believes me to be the vandal who wrote "Hi, my name is Dicknose McFaggot" on his staff photograph hanging in the medical library. The man would like nothing more than to see me thrown out of Miskatonic University and would pounce upon any opportunity to bring the ethical gray areas of my research into question with the rest of the faculty.
Goodbody also suspects that it is Dr. Lovejoy and myself that are responsible for the cadavers that have gone missing from the morgue, and for once the old dinosaur's theories hold water. Lovejoy and I have, in fact, commandeered cadavers from the university morgue for our experiments concerning the re-animation of the brain after death. The results of our experiments have varied from "not so good" to "Holy shit! That was close! Help me find my index finger."
The administered dosage of my re-animating agent seems to effect our test subjects with radically different degrees of intensity, but in purely scientific terms their typical reaction thus far had been to go completely ape shit. Their extremely psychotic reactions to my serum have led me to one of two conclusions; either the dosage administered so far has been too great, or re-animating the dead is completely insane.
Last night we had great success in re-animating a cadaver and having it stumble around the lab as we played the Michael Jackson song "Thriller" on Lovejoy's CD player. Unfortunately we also had great success in accidentally having our re-animated test subject murder the night janitor, Jenkins. It's been hit or miss here at Wilkins Hall, but tonight we've acquired a wonderful test subject. The cadaver is six feet, ten inches tall and of muscular build. The chart lists him as a former patient at a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane.
Re-animating is fucking awesome!
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