THAT’S FRONKEN-STORM!

“THAT’S FRONKENSTORM!”


“Meteorology be damned!” Fredrick declared.

“My grandfather’s research into the migratory weather patterns was always missing one element!
It was very… mundane, very humdrum!” the lecture continued.

“But Professor Frankensteam, didn’t your grandfather summer in the south of France? His weather theories are just something I cannot wrap my brain around!” a student interjected.

“That’s Fronkensteam!” he laughed. “My grandfather was a nincompoop. What he knew of weather I could fit into this petri dish filled with formaldehyde! Trust me weather is an extremely fickle mistress!”

“Professor? But your theory lacks the legs to stand on!” the indignant pupil pondered!

“YOU STINKING, LOUSY SON-OF-A-BITCH! LEGS? You want legs? I can give it legs! I can attach arms as well. I can give it a pert little smile! I CAN MAKE THIS THING A MONSTROUS EVENT!” Fredrick ranted.

“You don’t scare me with your weird science and your ‘Frankenstorm’!” the young man blustered.

“THAT’S FRONKENSTORM! I’LL SHOW ALL OF YOU!” he shouted and the lightning flashed and the rains started to fall wildly. “IT IS ALIVE!”

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