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Henry stood in the cubicle, stark naked. Waiting as patiently as he could for the automatic timer--which had activated following completion of the warm-up process--to count down from the sixty seconds he had set it for. And, when the start of the final ten seconds was reached, the red light-and-beeper combo went on, once more.

Henry closed his eyes. But, even that did not screen out the brilliant flashes of orange light that accompanied the ensuing crackle of electricity.


When he re-opened his eyes, all the equipment was powering down. Gingerly, he stepped out of the cubicle, the coldness of the tiled floor suddenly perceptible to him. Walking on the balls of his feet, he got dressed back up in his sweat clothes, as fast as possible. Then, he reactivated his mini-digital audiorecorder.

"Subjection: complete. I will now try a little experiment."

He put the recorder down on the desk top. Then, he picked up his cellular vidphone, and played a video clip he had downloaded from Youtube. A videoclip of, perhaps, the greatest dance-drill team in the SouthEastern Conference of the NCAA.

The Louisiana State University Golden Girls.

Unlike other collegiate dance teams (whose sole purpose seemed to be to try and out-high kick the Radio City Rockettes), the Golden Girls specialized in a form of terpsichore that appeared to occupy a niche between precision marching and a land-based equivalent of synchronized swimming!

But, it could not be denied that they performed it rather well. And, the eye-pleasing ensembles they wore, during their performances, didn't hurt, either. Indeed, Henry had already watched this clip, many times before!

This, however, was the first time it had caused a certain stirring below his waist. A sure sign the process was already starting to work.

"It's alive!" he could not help exclaiming with glee: "IT'S ALIVE!!!"

He then turned off the recorder and the vidphone, putting the former back in his left sweatsuit pocket. And, the latter in his right. Following which, he exited the class room. Careful to lock its only door behind him.

His joy was short-lived, though. Because, the moment he got to the spot where he had parked his bike, he found it lying on the ground. Beneath the front wheels of a Volkswagen Beetle!

"What in the world...?" he began to mutter.

"Like my new car, Doc?" said an all-too familiar voice behind him.

Henry spun about. Sure enough; standing behind him were Biff Morgan and another boy. Probably, one of his frat brothers.

And, both were armed with baseball bats.

"It's all I could afford to replace my Porsche," Morgan continued: "The Porsche I've been driving since I graduated high school! The Porsche my dad forced me to sell, in order to raise half of the money I was court-ordered to pay you."

"You brought that on yourself, Biff," Henry replied: "Don't compound your original mistake with a bigger one."

"The only thing I'm gonna compound," Morgan retorted (with a most malicious grin): "...is the fractures we plan to give you."

As if cue, Henry heard a pair of car doors slam. He looked back at the VW, and saw two more boys armed with bats. Both duos beginning to converge on him, front and back!

Naturally, he tried to run. But, as these boys were taller, they naturally had longer legs. So, naturally, they had no trouble catching up to him within seconds!

To his credit, Henry did try to call for help on his cellphone as he ran. But, one of the boys prevented this when he flung his bat at the backs of Henry's legs, parallel to his kneecaps. As a result, Henry fell forward. Flat on his face and stomach!

And, with the cellphone flying a few feet further onward.

The rain of blows that followed quickly caused him to black out from the pain. When this had become obvious to the quartet of assailants, Morgan ordered them to stop. He then ordered two of them to pick up Henry by the shoulders.

"Is he still breathin', Biff?" asked the third accomplice.

Morgan nodded, adding: "Grab his cellphone. If he managed to get through to 911, they might trace it through GPS."

The third accomplice did as instructed. And, he gave a snort of startled laughter when he saw what was playing on its small video screen.

"Hey, Biff! Looks like he wasn't as limp as he led the court to believe."

He showed Morgan and the other two the clip of the LSU Golden Girls. Which immediately inspired the former with a fiendish idea.

"Let's take him to the gym. We'll stuff him in one of the lockers...in the Visiting Girls' Locker Room. And, then, call the cops. Anonymously, of course!"

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