Weird Science

I was destined to be a nerd. I couldn't help it, it was literally written in my DNA. I'd inherited the Brainiac Gene from my father, Poindexter Archibald the Third, who had been in love with comic books and had figured out how to duplicate Wonder Woman's Invisible Jet. My grandfather, Poindexter Junior, had been enamored with genetics and had actually discovered the Brainiac Gene, earning him the Nobel Prize in medicine in 2054. It was a given that my children would inherit the gene as well...if I could ever convince a woman to procreate with me.

"So," Dad jabbed me with a pointy elbow, "Your mom said you were bringing someone to the holiday party this year. I have to say, we're both eager to meet the young lady who'll help pass along the Brainiac Gene." He scanned the crowd of party-goers as he lifted a cup of eggnog to his lips.

I rolled my eyes, "Don't get ahead of yourself, dad. Tiffany isn't interested in having kids."

Dad sputtered and eggnog sprayed over my red and green cardigan. The twinkling lights under the yarn flickered and started to smoke.

"Take it off! Take it off!" Dad screeched, dropping his cup and yanking the garment up and over my head. A few of my co-workers giggled as they passed by.

"It's not what you think..." I trailed off and sighed, thankful I'd remembered to put a shirt on under the pullover. With a frown, I snatched the sweater from my dad's hands and crumpled it into a ball.

"Looks like I won't be winning the Ugliest Sweater Contest this year," I grumbled, tossing it like a basketball towards the garbage. I completely missed the shot, just like a good nerd should.

"Well, where is she?" dad persisted, "Maybe I could persuade her to pop out a kid. We can't let this gene die out, you know."

I shrugged and pointed towards the bar, "Fine. See the blond over there? That's her."

"Call her over, son," dad shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and pulled out his inhaler. The anticipation was, apparently, getting to him.

"Okay..." Pulling out a hand-sized remote, I tapped a couple of buttons. The blond looked up from her drink and sashayed over to us. Dad's lips puckered like he'd eaten a sour lemon.

"Is she...?"

"An android? Yup. Made her myself!" I preened.

Dad groaned, "I was under the impression that you'd met a real woman."

"C'mon, dad. You know how hard it is for a nerd to attract a real woman. Until I'm famous or rich like you or Pops I don't stand a chance with the flesh and blood type. Besides," I flipped a switch on the remote, "I've programmed her to act and respond just like a genuine woman."

Dad's jaw dropped, "What have you done! Do you realize how dangerous this invention is?"

I waved away his concern, "Tiffany is perfectly fine, dad. Just watch," I turned to the android and smiled. "Hey, Tiffany, be a doll and get me a beer."

Tiffany glared down her ski-sloped nose and sniffed, "Get. Your. Own. Damn. Beer."

Dad chuckled as my face flushed in embarrassment.

"Don't be difficult, Tiff," I warned, "Don't make me turn you off..."

Tiffany snatched the remote from my hand, instantly making me regret programming her to be a strong, capable woman.

"You. Can't. Control. Me!" Tiffany shouted, crushing the remote into a wad of metal with her bare hand.

"I hope that wasn't your only remote..." Dad hissed.

"I have an idea," I whispered back, "Where's the mistletoe?"

Dad nodded towards a group of women near the Christmas tree. With an awkward chuckle, he pointed to the mistletoe above their heads.

"Hey, Tiff? Do you know about the tradition of mistletoe?"

"I. Know. Everything." Tiffany smirked, tossing her golden hair.

"Well, what say we go try it out, sweetie?"

"I. Will. Try. Anything. Once." Tiffany conceded, taking my hand.

Positioning ourselves under the greenery, I pressed my dry lips against hers and, as predicted, she immediately shut down.

"Just like a typical woman," I sighed.

The Brainiac Gene was doomed.


(695 words)