Son of Re-Animator

Once again, this is not my fault. (I wonder if anyone believes that anymore.) 

An old writing class assignment was to describe characters completely, using a single sentence.

__is the kind of person who__

Since there was nothing else to do with it and Halloween was coming, I limited myself to characters from bad horror movies.   Much to my surprise, the instructor later said she forgot to give us the rest of the assignment. 

We had to pick one of our sentences and write a short story about that character, hence the opening line below. The only way to go was a sequel.  Because I haven’t written anything about movie monsters for Halloween this year, I’ll revive this one.  However, since I first wrote it time has passed, another film sequel was made, But I’m not changing the title, because “The Third Cousin once Removed of Re-animator” is a tad clunky.

SON OF RE-ANIMATOR

"Herbert was the kind of person who ignored all laws and morals in the pursuit of the power of life over death." 

That’s how the article reporting his believed demise read the day after the varied remains of his experiments’ (and presumably him) were found at the prison.  The observation could also be easily applied to his son, young Herbert West Junior, who had the added obsession of trying to clear his father’s name. 

Young Herb augmented his psychotic genius with underhanded and devious tricks throughout school.  With this combination he insured a full scholarship to Miskatonic University, his dad’s alma mater.  At the university, he connived and broke his way into all the secret files and locations of the older West’s experimental trials on bringing various cadavers and parts thereof back to life and recreated his reanimation formula.

“Tonight, it will all pay off,” Herb thought after knocking out the guard.  He entered his father’s secret lab behind the morgue.  With great effort he dragged a large fetid sack in behind him.

He had realized Herbert West Senior’s greatest mistake: While the reanimation of dead bodies and various combinations of their parts was nifty, it had no marketable value.  Herb planned to try the formula on rotten fruits and vegetables, using his third cousin once removed’s work to establish the West family fortune through hunger relief, and supermarket sales.

His disappointment at the total lack of ripeness produced by applying the formula to the reeking mass of vegetation quickly turned to horror as it began to move.   Like Carmen Miranda’s hat back from the grave, the now humanoid shaped produce aisle of vengeance shimmied toward him, with blood in the apples of its eyes. 

The creature looked down upon its creator, standing firmly on banana feet, without appeal.  It shambled closer and, extending its arms of celery, stalked its prey. 

The terrified and mad scientist struggled to find a way around the beast, but his efforts, if not his paths, were fruitless. 

He knew pleading was useless. There would be no route-to-beg-here.  The young West grabbed a pearing knife to defend himself, and vowed he would not be beet. 

He egged the plant to attack him.  Since his blade was short, he needed to let it kumquat close. Herb could hear the rhythm of its artichoke heart, as he dodged spears of asparagus.

Then he was assaulted and peppered by small hard particles fired from the creature’s watermelon core.  In an effort to free himself from the pit-full situation, he stabbed at the cabbage head.  As the thin green shreds covered him, Herb cried,

"Since you won’t leaf me alone, lettuce end this now!"

In desperation, with the vegtibeast’s plum last ounce of strength, it pulled down the shelf of condiments Herb brought for taste testing, and orranged for the large white jar to fall on its maker’s head.  

SQUASH!

went the jar and the skull, as man and salad beast were tossed to the floor, both with smashed melons.

The next morning, as the cafeteria staff cleaned up, the professors and crime scene investigators poured over the notes of the second generation lunatic.  The head inspector could hear them arguing if West’s problems grew from issues with Ohm’s  Law, Bernoulli’s Law or even Murphy’s Law.  Chief Addotta looked at what was left of the late Herbert West Jr.’s cabbage and mayonnaise-covered head and stated,

"No, his biggest problem was with Cole’s Law."

Many Apologies to H.P. Lovecraft, Brian Yuzna, and anyone who has seen the Re-Animator films or eaten at a salad bar.