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skonen_bladesJared Thompson, aged 8, was an exceptional genius.
Meaning he was, like most geniuses, dumb as a box of warm hair.
For the Peter Johnson Elementary School Science Fair, Jared proposed to make a project detailing how mold could be grown on fruit as it fermented in order to make another food source. The mold could be scraped off of the fruit after six days and used as a basic nutrient for many recipes.
Now, the fair was in four days. As mentioned, Jared needed six. In order to make his project work in time for the Science Fair, Jared needed to find an extra two days.
He spent three days building a machine that would give him the time he needed.
By using a lot of his mother’s pans, the neighbour’s dog as a reality conciousness quantum anchor conduit, the kitchen toaster, a jackknife, a magnetized weathervane, a picture frame, and the household vacuum cleaner, he built a doorway into the past.
He was tired after all his work but he had a good feeling about this. He pushed down on the toaster’s handle to turn it all on. The weathervane spun, the dog whined a steady tone, the vacuum cleaner made small sounds of protest, and the negative space inside the empty picture frame shuddered.
The frame, if Jared’s calculations were correct, should be looking at a patch of his floor from eight days ago when the family was over at Uncle Pat’s place for a picnic. It was sunny on that day and no one was home.
It was rainy now. His room was dark. Wherever he pointed the picture frame, a much brighter version of the room appeared within it. He could hear birds. Success!
Remembering that he never once looked behind his writing desk during all of last week, he snatched up the plastic bag of apples and pears. It was sealed to prevent any giveaway smells as the fruit rotted.
He walked over to the space behind his desk and held the picture frame flat, making a square basketball hoop out of it. He held the bag of fruit over the hole in the frame and looked down at the sunny patch of floor behind his writing desk six days in the past.
He let go of the bag. It went through with a bark from the dog and a muffled thump from the bag of fruit. It was a thump that he heard through the frame but didn’t feel on the soles of his feet. Jared, leaning forward, looked down at the bag of apples and pears through the picture frame portal.
Slowly, he moved the picture frame away. There, in the rain dappled pool of blue light thrown by his room’s window, was the now-dusty plastic bag of apples and pears.
Six days moldy.
Jared smiled and walked over to his machine, turned off the toaster, let the weathervane slow down, and unhooked the confused dog before making the diorama for his ‘fruit mold as a food source’ science project for the rest of the afternoon. Drawing was not his strong suit yet he whistled with confidence as he wrote large letters in crayon on the carboard.
He was so angry when he placed sixth in the Science Fair. "Just not very appetizing." said the grading teacher. Becky Erickson’s stupid fake volcano got first prize.
tags
Meaning he was, like most geniuses, dumb as a box of warm hair.
For the Peter Johnson Elementary School Science Fair, Jared proposed to make a project detailing how mold could be grown on fruit as it fermented in order to make another food source. The mold could be scraped off of the fruit after six days and used as a basic nutrient for many recipes.
Now, the fair was in four days. As mentioned, Jared needed six. In order to make his project work in time for the Science Fair, Jared needed to find an extra two days.
He spent three days building a machine that would give him the time he needed.
By using a lot of his mother’s pans, the neighbour’s dog as a reality conciousness quantum anchor conduit, the kitchen toaster, a jackknife, a magnetized weathervane, a picture frame, and the household vacuum cleaner, he built a doorway into the past.
He was tired after all his work but he had a good feeling about this. He pushed down on the toaster’s handle to turn it all on. The weathervane spun, the dog whined a steady tone, the vacuum cleaner made small sounds of protest, and the negative space inside the empty picture frame shuddered.
The frame, if Jared’s calculations were correct, should be looking at a patch of his floor from eight days ago when the family was over at Uncle Pat’s place for a picnic. It was sunny on that day and no one was home.
It was rainy now. His room was dark. Wherever he pointed the picture frame, a much brighter version of the room appeared within it. He could hear birds. Success!
Remembering that he never once looked behind his writing desk during all of last week, he snatched up the plastic bag of apples and pears. It was sealed to prevent any giveaway smells as the fruit rotted.
He walked over to the space behind his desk and held the picture frame flat, making a square basketball hoop out of it. He held the bag of fruit over the hole in the frame and looked down at the sunny patch of floor behind his writing desk six days in the past.
He let go of the bag. It went through with a bark from the dog and a muffled thump from the bag of fruit. It was a thump that he heard through the frame but didn’t feel on the soles of his feet. Jared, leaning forward, looked down at the bag of apples and pears through the picture frame portal.
Slowly, he moved the picture frame away. There, in the rain dappled pool of blue light thrown by his room’s window, was the now-dusty plastic bag of apples and pears.
Six days moldy.
Jared smiled and walked over to his machine, turned off the toaster, let the weathervane slow down, and unhooked the confused dog before making the diorama for his ‘fruit mold as a food source’ science project for the rest of the afternoon. Drawing was not his strong suit yet he whistled with confidence as he wrote large letters in crayon on the carboard.
He was so angry when he placed sixth in the Science Fair. "Just not very appetizing." said the grading teacher. Becky Erickson’s stupid fake volcano got first prize.
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no subject
Date: 17 Mar 2008 02:37 (UTC)no subject
Date: 17 Mar 2008 03:01 (UTC)no subject
Date: 17 Mar 2008 03:06 (UTC)see, i was born in 1960. so at 6 or 7, the bigger kids were hippie types. and our paperboy had HUGE fluffy hair dyed blue or green.
my first name is Melissa.
the paperboy gave me airplane rides (you know what I mean? one wrist and one ankle and you are flying through the air) and he called me Molasses.
i loved him in my little girl heart. i had it bad for the paperboy.
no subject
Date: 17 Mar 2008 03:39 (UTC)no subject
Date: 17 Mar 2008 03:42 (UTC)no subject
Date: 17 Mar 2008 04:11 (UTC)