“Brilliant!” exclaimed Amelia Duchagne as she raised the vial of rosy-red liquid. “I have completed the formula!”
Her assistant, who was cleaning up the cluttered lab, looked up from scrubbing the table. “You completed a formula while I was cleaning?”
“Yes! I finally found the missing ingredient: 'twas ordinary soap!”
“Oh. What formula is this?”
“It is intended to enlighten the mind. It will remove base desires and make the imbiber focus only on intellectual practices!”
“Is it safe?”
“We are about to find out!”
With those words, Dr. Duchagne swallowed the pink formula all in one go. A strange expression came over her face, as if the drink had tasted quite foul: She leaned against the table and shook her head. Then she blinked, and turned to her assistant.
“It worked! I can feel my mind being sharpened already!”
She rushed to her blackboard and begun to write long mathematical expressions. They were much too complicated for her assistant to understand – he left Dr. Duchagne to her work, and went to dust off the giant robot.
She wrote for an hour; two perhaps; then a change of mood came over her. Suddenly, the expressions before her seemed dull and uninteresting – she could see that they were pure genius, but somehow she didn't care much about them. Then, her vision begun to blur. In panic, she rushed to her chemistry table, shuffling a**** the beakers and bottles to try to find the anti-formula she had prepared just in case; alas, her assistant had cleaned, and she could not find it! She coughed, gasped, and sank dramatically to the floor.
Moments later, she rose again...
When she came to her senses, she was quite cold. She blinked, and tried to remember what had happened: Before her, she saw an excited, cheering crowd of men. They were jeering, shouting and clapping, and she shook her head, trying to wake up. Of course! She must be in the middle of presenting the formula, and the potion was wearing off!
She cleared her throat and smiled at the crowd. “Well, as I was about to say-” she spun around to where she expected to see a blackboard, but there was none: Behind her was just a blank wall. She looked confusedly around, and caught a glimpse of something pink. Disoriented, she looked down: It was her own ******!
She was standing before the crowd dressed only in her bloomers!
Dr. Duchagne blushed crimson, covered her ample breasts, and stuttered at the crowd: “Um- um- what was I about to say?”
“You were about to pull your bloomers down, Miss Heat!” shouted the crowd as one man.