Roosevelt Kong

Genuinely concerned and supportive, Israel smiled a little on the inside watching its big brother, with its wide open spaces and diverse populous, begin to live in fear. It was like a parent releasing the seat of a two-wheeler for the first time. The child would pant from dread, as the adult knew that though they may end up bruised and cut, they would ultimately survive.
    A few thousand miles away from the Gaza Strip in a ten-mile wide valley between two monstrous mountains, sits Tooele Valley and one of the largest chemical repositories in the world. Weeks ago, the commercial jets detonated far across the country, but the civilians of Tooele began paying attention to the test sirens they ignored since their construction nearly a decade ago. Fear had been reborn.
    From the unsecured superintendent's office, a memo was released begging for restraint and composure from teachers and administrators. "Our youth will look to us for strength." it went on to say. A dozen teachers resigned that week.
    The call went out for replacements. Our hero, Fred Graham, opened the letter sitting in front of his PowerBook either working on the great American novel or downloading porn. The letter began, "Greetings." Fred Graham was asked to teach a high school science class. He accepted.
    Teaching came easy to our hero. The kids took to him instantly. He was charming and authoritative all at the same time. Classes went by quickly and the kids learned. He was a good choice.
    Then one day, in the storeroom when refilling the baking soda, he found a loose brick. Behind the brick he found a bound journal. In black fine point sharpie, the words "Moreau Project" were scrawled neatly across the front. One truly consistent trait among heroes is an overwhelming curiosity. One screwdriver and one bent hasp later, Fred Graham began to understand the Moreau Project.
    Genetic altering developing cells has been a topic of discussion and debate for years. The Moreau Project, however, proposed the viability of gene shifting of living organism. In other words, if you take the DNA helix of a mouse, and infuse (not inject or splice) them with that of common domestic dog, for example, you could change the behavior of the dog to more closely match that of a mouse. The journal described experiment after experiment that went wrong and the mutants that didn't survive and the moves toward success.
    In the silence of the storeroom, our hero went mad. He was the only one around to hear him laugh and shout, "I can do it. I can do it." He began his journey to insanity.
    Shooting baskets with Terry Mathis, our hero confessed his plan. Terry was more interested in gathering brutalizing rebounds Wes Unseld-style than altering inherent characteristics.
    "Just think," Fred said, standing outside the three point line, "once we obtain one of these primer sets and migrate them to a different position from that of the W-linked EE0.6 sequence on agarose-gel electrophoresis and serve it as an internal control, we can show that the genomic DNA was amplifiable by the PCR."
    "Just shoot the fucking ball," Terry said, hunched in a rebound-ready stance.
    "We have a chance to help humanity," Fred said, as the ball gently arched toward the orange ring, "We can do good here..." He paused, the ball sang as it ripped through the net. What a beautiful sound, he thought. "We can now afford to be generous," he said as he took a rebound away from Terry.
    A voice came from across the gym. "Mr. Graham," it said.
    Terry turned and let the next rebound bounce off the waxed wood. He watched Danni half ran/half skip toward them. There is something about girls, he thought.
    "Can I play?" Danni asked, as if she already knew the answer. She grabbed the ball and with a two-handed push, missed badly. Terry finally had his rebound. Danni played mock defense. Terry shot. He battled Danni for the rebound. He wondered if Wes Unseld felt a special tingle rubbing against Dave Cowens.
    When the game ended, Danni leaned into Fred. "Can I come see you after school?"
    "Certainly," Fred said.
    Terry watched her walk away and said, "Damn!"
    "Do you think what I'm doing is a sin?" Fred asked.
    "If you're doing what I think you're doing then yes."
    "But what if I benefit mankind?"
    "Then I would say you're not doing what I thought you were doing."
    "She's just a kid," Fred said, "and I am a scientist."
    "You're a science teacher, and she's no kid."
    Fred nodded.
    Terry said, "What is it with girls that they can sweat and still smell like powder?" He shook his head. "Damn!"
    Fred began shooting free throws. He kept talking. "I think I can create a super man, an intelligent beast, or maybe even a super terrorist buster." ...six in a row... "imagine the possibilities...genetically enhanced protectors of the American Way." ...thirteen in a row... "I could combine the leadership and intelligence of Franklin Roosevelt and the strength and grit of King Kong." ...nineteen in a row... "He could sit atop the tallest buildings and swat flying bombs right out of the air." ...twenty-one in a row... "He could be placed outside every major city and scare terrorists right out of their holy minds." ...twenty-seven in a row... "with God and science on our side, what can possibility happen?" ...miss.
    Terry took the rebound and pressed it to his chest Wes Unseld-style. "Do you think all girls smell like powder?"
    Later that afternoon, sitting in a half lit storeroom, Fred Graham, the scientist, was crudely sketching combinations of multicolored helix straps. He didn't notice the figure tiptoeing behind him. He did, however, smell the powder.
    "Mr. Graham," Danni said, "is this a bad time?"
    Fred quickly closed the journal and covered up the name "Moreau Project II". "Come in, Danni."
    There are three kinds of passionate kisses: (1) a long-loved-lover kiss where the mouth opens at just the right diameter and angle, (2) the fumble kiss where the mouth moves about trying find the right position, and (3) the wanton kiss where the mouth just tries to swallow as much flesh as possible.
    There was no reason they should have found themselves kissing, they just were. It was a distraction for both. In fact, she should have been focusing on growing up and he should have been focusing on creating an intelligent beast. But instead, they were sharing a wanton kiss.
    Two weeks later, Fred Graham, science teacher, submitted his resignation. He stated the reason for leaving as Global Savior. They would understand later, he thought.
    One mousy dog later, Fred Graham, scientist, was ready to start saving the world. He didn't returned any calls from Terry or Danni. He was obsessed. He didn't know it, but he had gone completely insane before he made twenty-seven free throws in a row.
    The temptation to be a God was too much. What he asked was impossible. He wanted to combine the traits of a famed president and infamed monkey. He failed. They found him in a rented warehouse, facing a wall, crying outloud. He wanted to help, he wanted to cure the world of fear, he wanted do his part for the war; he failed. The world would not know brilliant beasts. In its stead, the world would come to know mutants with fused helix strands. Instead of a super terrorist buster, he created a pissed off gorilla in a wheelchair. What he wanted was right what he made was wrong. Only a mad man would a want to save the world with a Roosevelt Kong.
    Terry would visit his friend sometimes. It was sad to watch him mumble. He would stay just long enough to bring a smile to the madman's face and then go home to Danni and spend the night accepting wanton kisses.