My son has asked for a new pet for his birthday.
I should probably explain that I don't mean "new" in the sense of "one that we don't already own." No, when my son wants a "new" pet, he really means new: he wants an animal that does not currently exist on this planet. He wants a hippofishimus.
Okay, so this isn't exactly taking-over-the-world material. Oh, it has potential. If I cross the hippos with sharks or piranha, I should be able to create a large, grumpy omnivore that can operate on land or in the water. It's just that, well, they probably won't be too hard to get away from.
I'm not disappointed, though. My son is only four, and already he wants to usurp God's rightful place as the Creator of Life? Already he wants abominations whose very existence is an affront to the natural order? I must be doing something right.
And we can always dangle people over the Hippofishimus Pit: overly curious law-enforcement personnel, for example. My former colleagues, who spurned my genius. That kid at school who keeps making fun of my son's haircut. The bank manager who refused to approve my car loan. Oh, and my ungrateful ex-wife.
So come, my minions. We must prepare the lab, and gather the raw materials. Today the zoo, tomorrow the aquarium, and the day after that... the hippofishimus!