Please Do Not Taunt the Octopus (Newsflesh Trilogy, #3.4)

by Mira Grant

I hate the term “mad scientist.” Shit yeah, I’m angry. I have every reason in the world to be angry. But what right do you have to call me insane? —Dr. Shannon Abbey

Thank God for the American Affordable Care Act. It was passed in a limited form right before the Rising began, despite the opposition of one hell of a lot of people who thought that providing health care to their fellow citizens was somehow, I don’t know, inappropriate.

everything from autism to erectile dysfunction. If the Rising hadn’t come along when it did, most of the United States would probably have died of whooping cough before 2020, leaving the middle part of the continent ripe for Canadian invasion.

And in my lab, when I wear a lab coat, it means that some serious shit is about to go down.

“Of course he grabbed your face,” I said. “If you give Barney the opportunity to grab your face, he’ll grab your face. Everyone knows that. Grabbing faces is his one true joy in life, since we won’t let him stick to the ceiling all the time, and he’s never going to get laid.”

“I’m a mad scientist, aren’t I? We all have master plans. Without them, we’d just be faintly disgruntled scientists who think we really ought to form a committee to discuss our grievances.”

Reasonable as he was being, I didn’t have the patience for him, and I didn’t want to yell. Never yell in the middle of a mystery. It distracts people from the core issues—those being “What the fuck is going on?” and “How do we all get through this alive?”

Mad science may be a little more fun and fancy-free than the boring mainstream kind, but that doesn’t make it exciting on a day-to-day basis. If anything, mad science steals the excitement from a lot of things that should be exciting, like surprise fires, stabbing people with needles, and the occasional ceiling octopus.

It’s amazing what everyone knows, isn’t it? Usually what everyone knows is insulting and sort of ableist, because the people who know everything always seem to think of themselves as being perfectly normal.

I don’t gotta do anything you tell me, mister guy. All I gotta do is sing a little song, dance a little dance, and make a little murder. —Foxy

Good dogs should never be asked to prove that they’re good dogs. If there’s anything in this world that we should take on faith, it’s good dogs.

“Did you kill anyone?” “Not yet,” she said. “But the day is young, and there’s always time for a party.”

We can raise the dead. We can cure cancer. We can make the world better in every possible way, save one: No matter how hard we try, we just can’t cure stupid. —Dr. Shannon Abbey Everyone’s living in a fantasy world these days. The only thing that matters is whether your fantasy is hurting anybody else. If it’s not, then who am I to judge? —Tatiana Markowski