"Well, you seem to have had a good first day," Zell commented as Faust waltzed in through the front door. "You didn't creep in through the back window, which is a good sign."
"I demonstrated a quadruple heart bypass surgery on a cadaver!" sang Faust. "Es war fantastisch!"
"I had a pretty normal day, too. But... hang on, you did this in front of Sophomores?"
"Yes, yes. It was illuminating for the entire class, I am certain. I witnessed MY first surgery when I was four! It was 'Take Your First-Born Only Hope To Carry On Your Family Line To Work Day."
"But...wasn't your father a deranged psychopath?" It was a little-known fact that every single Faust since their infamous ancestor's demise had not only become a brilliant doctor, but had gone completely insane before they'd hit middle-age.
"Nicht spreche Die Englisch." Faust said obstinately. Characteristically, he did not tolerate insults.
"Fine. By the way, Eliza came home early today. I stopped her from plugging in the chainsaw behind your bed." Faust bit his lip, but could not hide his disappointment. "It's dangerous," continued Zell. "Some day, one of you could get seriously hurt. Aside from your normal deep, bloody gashes, I mean," he added. "Why can't you two act like a NORMAL married couple, for once?"
"Entshuldigen Sie, bitte?" Faust asked in a mock-polite voice.
"Never mind. However, there IS another question I need to ask about your work today. Does the establishment KNOW that you have somehow obtained a cadaver and are dissecting it in front of kids?"
"Uhhhhhh....Nheheheheheheh..." Faust's already completely drained complexion blanched further to a shade of chalk-white.
"Yeah. I thought so. What did you do with it after class?"
"Well, corpses are very...uh...flexible...so I found him a home in the...er...freezer."
"What freezer?" asked Zell with exagerrated patience.
"The freezer in the teacher's lounge." Faust admitted, a bizarre pinkish tinge appearing in his now-blue cheeks.
"FAUST!! BREATHE!!!!" Zell slapped Faust smartly across the face. Slowly, Faust's blue face faded to a slightly healthier shade of gray.
"Thanks," he gasped, "I needed that."
"OK. I guess there are worse places for a cadaver." Zell said indifferently. "Just be careful, OK?"
"Naturalich...Nheheheheheheh...."
Zell winced. Faust was always strange, but that laugh was never a good sign. The more he thought about it, the more his quest for love was resembling a bad fan-fic story.
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"Can anyone tell me what THIS is called?" Faust asked, burying two of his long, spindly fingers into the brain.
"Uhhh...shouldn't you be wearing gloves, sir?" asked a student.
"SILENCE!!!" shrieked Faust. "You are quite wrong. It is the HYPOTHALAMUS, obviously, as every MORON knows. How about THIS?"
"Your finger is in the way, sir."
Faust's face contorted itself in fury. "I am a DOCTOR! You do not address me as SIR, you address me as DOCTOR! DOCTOR FAUST!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THIS, OR MUST I GO OVER IT AGAIN, SO AS TO INTEGRATE IT WITHIN YOUR WORTHLESS, INSIGNIFICANT BRAINS???!!!!!" A silence more deceased than the "volunteer" ensued. Then Faust broke into a broad smile. "Address me as 'Doctor,' will you, class? I did not spend most of my life in medical school for nothing!" he laughed. "Now, does anyone know what THIS is?" he moved his finger slightly.
"Could you tell us, DOCTOR?" said the same inquisitive student, now trembling slightly.
"It is the Corpus Callosum. You should be taking notes," Faust suggested pleasantly. "Now, how about this funny little appendage?"
The entire class was now looking seriously alienated. "No idea, DOCTOR."
"Nheheheheheh, it is merely a simple, harmless pituitary gland. Take good care of yours, or you will regret it later in life!"
"Are you on morphine, DOCTOR?"
"What makes you think that?" Faust asked the inquisitive student.
"Because right before you stopped yelling, you put a syringe in your neck."
"Oh....nheheheheheh...a back injury. Moving on to the Parietal lobe..."
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Mrs. Gatsby trudged down the hall to the teacher's lounge a few hours later. It was hard enough teaching a bunch of filthy, ungrateful little monsters literature, but her new diet was wearing on her nerves dreadfully. Only a salad for lunch these days. She thought spitefully of the deathly thin. ectomorphic biology teacher. Why was he so fortunate, to be blessed with such a slender, graceful figure, when she was struggling with cellulite and excess fat settling in rolls around what once was her waist? With some satisfaction, she imagined poisoning his lunch and pushing his tired, worn frame the last few steps into a premature grave.
She flicked on the light switch, crossing the room to the refridgerator unit. A malicious flat tire had made her late, so a few hours back, just after that despicable biology teacher was letting out his class, she had put her salad into the freezer to ensure that it would be good and cold by lunch. Wearily, she opened the magnetic freezer door. And came face-to-face with a headless cadaver.
Mrs. Gatsby's scream was...hard to describe.
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"I lost my job," Faust said, flopping limply onto the couch later that evening. Eliza began to accomadatingly massage his bony shoulders.
Zell opened his mouth to ask why, but thought better of it. He was having a very lovely sounding woman over for dinner tonight, and Faust's gimmicks never helped to improve his appetite.
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