[Episode 4] Frankenstein’s Big Discovery: Doctors Don’t Want You to Know This Life-Changing Health Hack

Interesting Fact: Necromancers hate reanimation. It is written in the bylaws of the Necromancy Guild and in the oath all junior necromancers must swear. The exact reason has been lost to time, but it might have something to do with the reanimators undercutting prices. When handling the dead, you get what you pay for. Any fool with sufficient lightning and formaldehyde can reanimate a corpse. It takes power to summon the dead to pick up your dry-cleaning.

The CBW reporters travel to Universe 13, where Mito gets road rash, Dolly goes sightseeing, and Rob goes grave-robbing.

Welcome to the Crack – the wound between worlds, the rift amongst the stars, the only news network that brings you every story from every reality. You're watching, the CBW Channel.

Mito: Welcome back to the CBW Channel. My name is Mito'ca'hondria, lead reporter and resident expert on prophesized heroes. Regular viewers might notice I look taller than usual. Today I am field-testing these state-of-the-art navigational shoes. With one click of my heels, they should take us straight to our daily story. I'm sure all our fans have a ton of questions, so I'll do my best to preemptively answer them. I'm not sure why they're silver and sparkly. Yes, they do match my shiny lead reporter top hat, but I didn't request it. I'm not really one to care how I look. Yes, the shoes do make my legs look fabulous.

Dolly: Ahem

Mito: But that's enough about my amazing new shoes. This is Dolly, our official monster specialist.

Dolly: Hello viewers! Make sure you have your psychic receivers tuned into our broadcast so you can see all the cosmic horrors your mind can comprehend. For any viewer without psychic abilities, we'll do our best to describe the… dreadful visuals.

Rob: Is it me, or does Dolly sound just a bit giddy?

Dolly: I do love a good monster. Mr. Glum and Dour, the studmuffin on my left, is Rob Skythrust. This is his first time visiting Universe 13, so you'll have to forgive his lack of enthusiasm.

Mito: We all have our favorite universes, Rob. I love Universe 11. Something about the Glundark Empire reminds me of home.

Rob: Is it the fascism?

Mito: Spell fascism.

Mito: You saw one documentary on the fall of the second Glundark Empire, and you think you understand the intricacies of governmental systems? You didn't even know it was possible to have a land without a king until I so graciously educated you.

Rob: It isn't my fault. My homeworld doesn't have schools. I'll have you know, I'm one of the best-educated people in the rebellion. I can write my own name and everything.

Mito: This is why you're a love interest. There's nothing going on behind those pretty eyes of yours.

Rob: [sputters]

Dolly: Children, children. We're burning daylight. I am not going to let y'all derail this glorious episode with your bickering. Now, Mito. You leave Rob alone. You know he ain't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he has other talents. Like that jawline.

Rob: I'm going to stop you right there, Dolly. My jawline is not a talent. Neither is my ass. Or my biceps, so there is no need to keep squeezing. Mito, I am begging you to take us to our story before Dolly gets any more handsy.

Mito: Sighing to myself, I tilt my shiny, silver lead reporter hat and wave goodbye to Mr. Stanton. As always, his beady black eyes are watching sternly through the spectacles balanced on the end of his tiny, fuchsia nose. The austere grayness of the news station disappears as we hurdle ourselves through time and space.

Dolly: We land in Universe 13.

Mito: Dolly!

Dolly: Let me have this one, dear. You know how much I adore Universe 13.

Mito: Fine, but you have to let me have a slice of that strookenberry pie you pulled out of the oven right before our show.

Rob: Me too! I'll, um, I'll owe you a favor?

Dolly: Careful, Rob. You never know what will happen when you go around offering favors. No, no. It's too late for take backs now.

Dolly. We land in Universe 13. The sky is a lovely, overcast gray. Smoke and coal dust have conspired to obscure any hint of the sun that must surely be dipping behind that tall, scraggly hill on the other side of town. Hmph. A storm is coming. My left knee is certain.

Rob: Your knee?

Mito: Shh. Dolly's left knee is never wrong about the weather.

Dolly: It'll be a gully washer, I bet you. There'll be thick sheets of rain and wind so strong, it could blow away a nun.

Rob: I have no idea what any of that means. Don't you think you should focus a little more on that evil-looking castle looming over this town? Or maybe the weathered cobblestone streets that are going to give Mito a broken ankle? The storm probably won't start before we return to the Crack.

Dolly: All things in their time, sugar. It isn't often I get to be the sole narrator. I intend to savor it.

Mito: Rob, didn't you read the briefing packet I gave you? This is Universe 13. Night and day are less of a dial and more of an on-off switch. Any moment-

Mito: Ah. There it goes. Viewers without psychic receptors should note that the smoggy, gray sky is now pitch black. There's a sort of dim shape that might be a moon- no. I stand corrected. It's the bell tower of that spindly castle that looms over the town. There's something shiny on top of it. I'd guess it was some kind of lightning rod, but towns with gas streetlamps seldom have the intellectualism to understand the dangers of lightning damage.

Rob: You're such a snob, Mito. Everyone understands the dangers of lightning.

Mito: What do you know, Eye Candy?

Dolly: As my fellow reporters bicker about lightning and scientific advancements, we amble towards the skinny mansion on the hill. The town is quiet, even considering the late hour. There are no children making trouble or men hurrying home for dinner. The loudest sound is the thump of Mito's be-hind as she falls to the ground. Like most main characters, our dear Mito can be a tad bit clumsy.

Mito: Oof. I was just demonstrating the deterioration of the streets. Do you see these cracked and crumbling cobblestones? This is a safety issue.

Rob: I told you to wear your boots. Those pointy high heels are going to walk you into an early grave.

Mito: And I told you, they're new technology. They're equipped with a special navigation system so we always know where to find the action.

Rob: They're ridiculous.

Mito: Viewers who have correctly tuned their psychic receptors to our channel will once again notice the sparkly silver stilettos that match my shiny, lead reporter top hat. These shoes are the latest, greatest, advancements in reporting technology. I would never wear them because they make my legs look amazing. I'm not like other girls.

Rob: What are they even doing? I don't hear any machine noises.

Mito: Machine noises?

Rob: Beeping. Whirling. You know, machine noises.

Dolly: Rob might have a point, dear. Are you sure the sparkly high heels are turned on? It seems to me, we just started walking in the most inter-resting direction, which is no different than our usual strategy. Are those navigational shoes navigating?

Mito: Of course they are. They've got the simplest on-button in the world. I just have to click the heels together, and they are supposed to start walking to our assigned story.

Dolly: Dear, did you remember to click the heels?

Mito: What do you take me for? An idiot? A moron? Rob? I clicked the heels.

Rob: Can you click them again? Just to prove how stupid we're being?

Mito: Rolling my eyes at my companions, I click the heels once agaiiiin!

Dolly: Heavens to Betsy, those shoes are really walking! Ain't that the bee's knees?

Rob: Viewers, I want all of you to know that after clicking her heels, Mito immediately toppled over. She is currently lying on her back like a dead beetle as the shoes frantically pedal through the air. Viewers, Mito is now trying to stand without putting any weight on the shoes that continue to walk. She is as successful as she is dignified.

Mito: Must you?

Rob: I must. I'm not a complete asshole, so I pick Mito up and set her on her feet.

Dolly: Before Mito can fully regain her balance, the sparkly heels begin marching towards the spindly mansion once more. They're faster than before. I assume the navigation technology is trying to make up for lost time.

Mito: Wait! Wait! Slow down! I need a second to- whoop!

Dolly: Once again, Mito has smashed her backside into the cobblestones. The silver stilettos keep marching, dragging poor Mito behind. I scoop up the sparkly lead reporter top hat before it can be left behind.

Mito: I can't believe this shoddy workmanship. Dr. Ravenwood never invented anything half as pathetic as these stupid heels.

Rob: You look ridiculous. Grab my hand.

Mito: I don't need help, Rob. I am perfectly capable of- ouch. That was my hair! Watch where you're walking.

Rob: As I jog after Mito, I try to avoid stepping on her hair. It's fanned out like a, a rake, maybe? Forget it. I'm no good at narration. Her hair is collecting leaves, dirt, and anything else you'd expect to find on a town street. While I would love to leave Mito to the mercy of her shoes, I am not an asshole. Unlike some people, I would never watch a coworker struggle alone.

Mito: What did you expect me to do? Steal a dragon and try to save you mid-flight? I'm not that kind of princess. Ow! Don't step on my fingers.

Dolly: With his thick, muscley arms, Rob scoops Mito off the ground. Her feet kick and spasm as the shoes attempt to continue walking. We've paused in a graveyard. Leaves and twigs crunch under my feet as I catch up with my companions. The scent of decaying roses lies thick in the air like a fog. Tall, pale gravestones leer over us. All in all, it's quite lovely.

Police: Halt!

Dolly: We freeze as a potbellied policeman hurries toward us.

Mito: Didn't you read my cultural handbook? The people here call them constables.

Police: On behalf of the night-watch, I command you to surrender yourselves!

Mito: Night-watch is a, um, synonym for constable.

Dolly: Of course, dear.

Police: Surrender yourselves, grave robber. This is the last mercy you shall have.

Rob: Grave robber? We're reporters!

Police: Drop the corpse!

Rob: She's not a corpse. Just an asshole. Can't you see her feet kicking? She's alive.

Police: That's an after-death reflex. Fish do it all the time.

Mito: I'm not a fish!

Police: Aagh!

Rob: The constable raises a large club of some kind. I do not like where this is going.

Police: Silence, grave robber! What have you done with that young woman? Was she buried alive? The other bodies stolen were male.

Mito: As my feet continue to kick in the air, I wonder if maybe I shouldn't just take off my shoes. Our boss, Mr. Stanton, will be furious if the sparkly heels run off, but I'm starting to think it's the lesser evil.

Dolly: Mr. Constable, you can arrest me any day. I love a man in uniform.

Police: Silence, hag!

Dolly: Hag? Well. I never.

Police: Drop the woman! I command it. By order of the night watch.

Rob: Fine.

Mito: Wait!

Dolly: Rob sets Mito onto her feet. She stays upright two steps before falling. The shiny silver stilettos are practically a blur as they drag her out of the graveyard. Rob and I race after her.

Dolly: Thunder booms over our heads as the skies open up. The constable stops following us and hurries off to find shelter. Clearly, he's the most sensible of us all.

Dolly: The sparkly shoes scuttle up the scraggly hill that looms over the town. Though the mud is slippery, I valiantly attempt to- oh. Thank you, Rob. You're such a sweetheart. Rob lifts me onto his muscled shoulders and carries me up the hill. Just as we reach the top, Mito disappears into the spindly castle.

Rob: Evil, Dolly. The castle is evil. It's practically radiating malice and, uh, evilness.

Dolly: It's a charming castle. Nice sturdy walls wrap around a tower that could touch those black thunderclouds.

Rob: Fortunately for us, the gate is as dilapidated as the rest of the castle. We squeeze through a gap.

Dolly: I'm narrating. Don't you take that away from me just as things are getting exciting.

Dolly: We duck into the castle to get out of the downpour. I can't see Mito, but her shrieking insults echo against the stone walls. The gas lamps flicker as the wind threatens to douse them. We stand at a crossroads, a symbolic representation of the impossible choice that lies before us.

Rob: Up or down. That's the choice. Do we climb up the tower or follow the stairs that lead us into some kind of dungeon? Hey what do you think all that copper wire is doing?

Dolly: It's the tightrope of fate.

Rob: It's a bunch of wires connecting the tower to the dungeon.

Dolly: You're ruining my fun. The tower is no mere tower. A thousand steps separate us from the heavens themselves. No fool builds a dungeon in their foyer, so that particular staircase could be a path to Hell for all we know. This is an impossible choice.

Rob: Will your arthritis let you climb all those stairs if we choose the tower?

Dolly: Dungeon it is.

Dolly: Rob grabs a lamp from the wall, and we descend down the stairs. As we move farther down the steep, stone steps, Mito's enraged screams grow clearer.

Mito: Look what you did to my hair, you stupid shoes! I will light you on fire. No, fire is too good for you. I will drown you in the news station's septic tank.

Dr. Frankenstein: Please calm down. I'm on the verge of a scientific breakthrough, and you're ruining the moment.

Dolly: We step into what can only be described as a laboratory. Gadgets and whats-its dangle from the ceiling. Doo-hickeys line the walls like soldiers awaiting the firing squad. In the center of the stone chamber, a large bed sags under the weight of something massive.

Mito: I'll show you calm. Oh, hi Dolly. Hi, Rob. Do you think anyone would mind if I borrowed that hydraulic press in the breakroom? These shoes need to suffer.

Dolly: As I take in the scene before me, I absently remind Mito that Mr. Stanton doesn't take kindly to the destruction of company property. With soaked clothes and murder in her eyes, I doubt our favorite lead reporter listened. I don't know why she's so angry. A grimy, damp chamber like this should feel like home. She used to spend hours sitting in the laboratory with Dr. Ravenwood.

Rob: I'm Rob Skythrust from the CBW Channel. What kind of scientific breakthrough are you working on?

Dr. Frankenstein: You're a reporter? I thought the academic community thought I was deranged? This is wonderful. You've arrived just in time. I'm Dr. Victor Frankenstien, and today I shall create life.

Rob: You're a necromancer? Interesting. Usually I would run away screaming, but I just had to complete a seminar of HR-mandated sensitivity training, so I'll just back away slowly.

Dr. Frankenstein: Nothing so crass as necromancy. I am a man of science. I have spent years running calculations and assembling the framework. All I need to complete my life's work is a large storm.

Dolly: I thought I spied a lightning rod on top of your tower.

Mito: Dr. Frankenstein whips the white sheet off the sagging bed.

Dolly: Mito, you promised.

Mito: Sorry Dolly. I hit my head a few times when the shoes were dragging me down the stairs, and I don't think my brain is working right.

Dolly: With a flourish, Dr. Frankenstein reveals a corpse. He's a massive mountain of a man with mismatched arms and impossibly small feet. Thick, black stitching holds his face together, and there's a horrid sort of ugliness in the set of his pale, cracked lips. A thick, copper bolt is shoved into the body's throat, right behind the adams apple. I see no signs of rigor mortis, but he smells pretty ripe.

Rob: That is a bracing smell. Wow, he's been dead a while. This seems like a good time to talk about our sponsor. Notta Perfume. Are you looking for a-

Dr. Frankenstein: There's no time! I am on the verge of the greatest scientific discovery in all of history. Listen, the storm is passing right overhead. The lightning could strike at any second.

Dolly: As the good doctor speaks, a strange dizziness takes to the air. Rob's perfectly tousled hair bristles from his scalp like a porcupine. Dr. Frankenstein sprints to the body and connects the copper wire to the neck bolt. Eyes fixed on the heavens, he rests his hand on a large switch.

Dolly: Dr. Frankenstein flips the switch. The body jolts and shudders. The entire room seems to vibrate.

Dr. Frankenstein: It's alive!

Monster: Ughhhh…

Dolly: The creature comes alive with a bone-rattling groan. He opens his eyes to reveal deep intelligence.

Rob: Stars, he actually did something. Doc, I don't know what you did, but did you mean for his skin to turn green?

Dr. Frankenstein: I, uh,…

Dolly: Did that python in his pants come with the original corpse, or did you sew it on special?

Dr. Frankenstein: I, um, well, the other guy wasn't using it.

Rob: Is the bolt going to stay in, or are you planning to take it out? It can't be comfortable.

Dr. Frankenstein: Are you critiquing me? I just created life.

Dolly: Women create life all the time. It doesn't stop the in-laws from complaining.

Mito: Criticism is a part of the scientific process. If your work can't stand up to peer review, it's no better than a happy accident. [bang] Die, shoes, die!

Rob: The monster lurches upright. It appears to be struggling to coordinate its heavy limbs. After a bit of squirming, it scoots to the edge of the bed and peers into Dr. Frankenstein's very soul.

Monster: Ugh. Lollipop?

Dr. Frankenstein: Pardon?

Monster: ugh  The last time I ugh went to the doctor, he gave me a lollipop.

Dr. Frankenstein: I don't have a lollipop.

Monster: Ugh. You stitched me into a person and shot lightning into my veins, and you don't think that deserves a sweet?

Dolly: Hello Mr. Monster. I'm Dolly from the CBW Channel. Would you like to comment on your sudden reanimation?

Monster: I think it's awfully unfair. Everyone gets a lolly when they go to the doctor. It's basic etiquette.

Dr. Frankenstein: What have I done? I should have never meddled with the boundary between life and death. I shudder to reflect that I have been the miserable origin and author of this abomination. Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw the light. Cursed be the hands that formed you!

Monster: Ugh. That part is fine, but the lack of lollipops is an affront to human decency.

Dolly: Wipe that look away, sugar. I've got some butterscotch in my pocket. Here. Oh. I guess you don't need to take the wrapper off.

Dr. Frankenstein: I have created a monster. An abomination! If the town discovers this, they'll hang me.

Dolly: As I hand the monster another butterscotch, I look for Mito. She is still trying to beat her shoes to death with a wrench. Dr. Frankenstein paces back and forth, looking increasingly frantic. He suddenly grabs the wrench from Mito and charges the monster.

Dr. Frankenstein: Back, beast! Go back to the hell from which you came!

Dolly: The doctor whacks his creation's flat head, but the monster only squints.

Monster: I don't think I like you very much.

Dolly: The doc brandishes an oil lamp. The monster stands for the first time. Though he's nearly tall enough to touch the vaulted ceiling, the monster cringes away from the oil lamp.

Dr. Frankenstein: Help me! This creature cannot be allowed to live.

Dolly: The monster appears to be growing angry as the feeble murder attempts continue. He grabs Dr. Frankenstein by the lab coat and throws him across the room.

Monster: I don't like you very much.

Dolly: The monster stomps over to the doctor and lifts him into the air.

Dr. Frankenstein: Help! Help me!

Mito: We are almost at the end of our time slot, but thank you for watching the CBW Channel.

Dolly: Ta-ta for now, my lovelies!

Rob: Wait! We didn't do our sponsor. Notta perfume.

Mito: Shit! Are you a bundle of cadaverous flesh sewn together by a lunatic? Are you a mad scientist tired of sweating through his lab coat while he hauls bodies across town? Try Notta Perfume. With one spritz, you can go from eau de graveyard to floral chic.

Dolly: Faster!

Rob: It's really, really awesome. You should try it. Notta Perfume. It's not a perfume. It comes in a black bottle. Up next is Diced, the only cooking show where competitors use ingredients from around the multiverse. This week, we're excited to announce…