Marshall rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. He turned and looked at the insistently-chirping clock-radio. "It's only nine," he mumbled as he started to lie back down.
"No you don't!" Jeff protested from the doorway. "Get outta bed. You're not gonna be a total dead weight if I have anything to say about it."
"Come onnnnnnnn," Marshall complained. "Would you be in a hurry to get out of bed every morning if you were in my shoes? I don't even wanna know what it's gonna be today."
"If I wanted to, little brother," Jeff replied, "I could take MetaDyne public right now and never have to work again. Thankfully, I don't have your work ethic. Now we're gonna go to the lab and see what your genetic structure looks like today."
"Look," Marshall explained, "I appreciate your taking care of me, since I can't seem to hold a job and all with this... condition. But sometimes it seems like you're just exploiting me and my weirdness to fuel your research, and that's just not..."
"Shut up and shower," Jeff interjected. "And turn that alarm off."
"Fine," Marshall grumbled. "Yesterday I had gills, the day before that I could levitate - only upside down but still, the day before that... oh... I molted... This sucks." He reached over to shut off the alarm - and the chainsaw that had sprouted at the end of his right arm in place of a hand shredded the clock-radio to bits.
Marshall eyed the chainsaw. "Bitchin'!"
Jeff rolled his eyes. "That's the fourth appliance you've destroyed this week."
