A bunch of brainy short fiction for everyone. Three one-shots, each longer than the last.

~~return the slab~~

Happy October everyone.

A Bad Idea

“Oi, Icky?”
“It’s pronounced Ik’thlck, Nixie.”
“Icky. I know it’s a bit late for this, but I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.”
“Which part of your idea? The one where I cut your head open in your living room, the one where I poke around in your brain to supposedly make you smarter, or the one where you ask your mind flayer roommate to do all this with kitchen utensils?”
“All three, to be honest.”
“Well, as you said, it’s a bit late to stop now.”
“But to be completely honest, having my brain exposed feels really good. Like, pretty refreshing.”
“And tasty.”
“What?”
“Sorry. Tasteless joke.”

Intellectual Theft

It was midnight, and Don was on the typewriter, madly hammering at the keyboard as though carpal tunnel syndrome didn’t exist. This was years in the making. No. Decades. He took a deep breath, swapped out the paper, then continued.
What he was working on was a script for a new animated film. An adaptation of the Norse sagas, leading up to Ragnarok. This never would have happened under his old employer. Don smiled a bitter smile as he continued to bang out the words, thinking about Orrin Mitty.
Mitty. Great artist. Great businessman. Rotten person. All those hours underpaid and overworked working at his animation studio, doing it for the art. It almost was a relief when the man died, and medical professionals swarmed into his office like white-clad aliens ready to claim an abductee.
But Don knew more about Orrin Mitty than the old ass had thought. Letters detailing medical procedures to be done after his death. A secret storage vault under the studio. And Don smiled as he recalled the theft of Mitty’s greatest treasure.
He looked up. A brain floated and throbbed, in a jar labeled, “Orrin Mitty.”

Best Gran Ever

Hortense twirled around and examined her body. She hadn’t felt so young in ages. Eyes a brilliant blue, hair the color of polished walnut, skin smooth and with nary a blemish. The only thing that couldn’t be helped was the slight pudge, but that was apparently what boys were into these days. And the shaved head. A wig would help with that, but it would aggravate the stitches around her cranium.
She pulled on her sports bra, then her panties, jeans, t-shirt, and finally leather jacket. She frowned. Especially with her bald head, she looked like a boy. Too much like a boy. After she fitted her wig, she looked again and smiled. A bit tomboyish for her still, but the long wig meant at least she wouldn’t mistake her reflection for a man’s.
As she picked up the keys to head out, a thought echoed through her brain. She forgot to say goodbye to Anna! Chuckling to herself about her senility, she turned and headed down into the basement.
Unlike most other subterranean rooms under the house, Hortense’s basement was rather neat and tidy, the result of growing old with a husband that actually knew how to organize around the house. He was gone now, but in his place was a dutiful granddaughter-who also brought some things along with her. In one corner of the basement was a massive computer, like the ones she saw on TV, blinking and beeping as it made its calculations. In the other was a minifridge, filled with specimens, water, and other things. In another was a bubbling set of chemicals, making a foul sound. In the last corner was a brain in a jar, wired to a speaker. Anna. “Anna?” Hortense said. “I’m going to my classes right now!”
The speaker crackled to life as Anna began to respond. “Alright, Gran. Be home at the usual time?”
“Well, yes, but I have something to ask. Dearie, isn’t this somewhat of an… inconvenience for you? I mean, me borrowing your…”
“Yes, it’s perfectly fine, Grandma. I never really used it anyway. Besides, I spend most of my time in the lab- and I can always telecommute.” The brain happily burbled. “Also… I want to say thanks for being my test subject. I really mean it.”
Hortense stifled a giggle. “Just give me a call if you need anything. Your gran’ll be here in a jiffy, as soon as she figures out how to use one of your newfangled smartphones.”
A quick goodbye, and Hortense was off. Anne throbbed happily in her jar. Best gran ever.