Fess’n up

I consider myself a man of science.

But like Nicolai Tesla, Albert Einstein and Mr. Wizard, occasionally my experiments aren’t understood by the great unwashed, and by great unwashed I mean family members and co-workers.

Case in point: I occasionally like to stick sodas in the freezer and pull them out just before they freeze rock-solid. I think it makes them taste better. If you think that’s a bit strange, consider for a minute all those sissies who like to sip wine. Who in their right mind wants to take a swig of something and then spit it out. Kind of like making out with your clothes on, if you ask me.

Occasionally, if you leave the sodas in the freezer for too long, they explode and make a big mess. My willingness to continue my bold experiments in this field despite these small setbacks has resulted in various roommates and girlfriends putting me in the road over the years. But, like Galileo, I refuse to let persecution stop the march of progress.

One of my experiments recently went awry in a work refrigerator, but I didn’t notice the explosive results because my powers of observation are on par with those of Sherlock Holmes, but only if you give me a handicap of about a million.

Management noticed, however, and an e-mail was sent out asking the offending party to clean up the mess. I put two and two together and deduced that the culprit was me, and I fessed up, mainly because of the fabulous values I was instilled with as a child. The fact that we’ve got security cameras up in here had nothing to do with it. Really.

I spent the next hour or so cleaning up the world’s grossest slushie, with the help of a co-worker I managed to sucker into the job by my usual method of getting help with unpleasant tasks by looking hopelessly inept.

Of course, you shouldn’t fess up for every indiscretion you may commit. Sometimes, you can actually get away with things.

When I was about 6 we were visiting my aunt and uncle’s home in Virginia. The house was interesting for two reasons: it had a basement, and because I had just seen Goonies and Labryinth, I was fascinated by all things underground. Making the basement even more appealing was the fact that it contained a computer and an aquarium.

While my folks engaged in Boring Adult Stuff, like talking to one another and watching “Dallas,” I stayed in the basement playing SpaceQuest 1 and trying to figure out what the Leisure Suit Larry game was all about.

I had consumed my liquid weight in Mountain Dew on the trip up, and my bladder was reminding me of it, but I wasn’t about to detach myself from SpaceQuest to tend to a mere physical need. The fate of the galaxy was at stake.

However, the pressure finally built to a crisis point and I began running to the bathroom, removing my pants on the way. Unfortunately, my sprinting abilities weren’t quite as developed then as they are now, and I ended up whizzing all over my hands.

I immediately panicked, and as most sensible people with wee-wee on their hands would do, I looked for an immediate means of cleaning them. The fish aquarium was nearby, and I stuck my hands in it.

The next day all the fish were floating. I, of course, denied any and all involvement in the deaths of the fish, and my folks weren’t suspicious enough to press me any further on the matter, luckily for me, as a threat to remove all my He-Man viewing privileges would likely have caused me to spill my guts.

My point, if I have one, is that honesty is the best policy, but only if there’s no other way out, and being caught yellow-handed isn’t exactly the same as being caught red-handed.

Need sushi? Contact Jim Cook at .