Author’s Note – With many apologies to H.G. Wells, I ask the question: Did you ever wonder what Dr. Moreau must have been like as a child? Word count be damned, I went for it and had fun with this. And yes, “evolutionarily” is a word, at least in my universe. If you’d like to join the fray you can stop by Friday Fictioneers and have at it.
Michael Moreau loved science. He read anything he could get his nine-year-old hands on and after studying zoology, microbiology and biochemistry, he started “experimenting” with his stuffed animals. His first (and favorite) creation was a “zebeltiraffe” which he proudly displayed on the front lawn. His mother, though impressed with his genius and ingenuity, did her best to discourage his projects (what would the neighbors think?) but he wouldn’t listen. He loved creating new creatures that had never been seen before and he continued to do so, eventually incurring the wrath of his neighbors, who didn’t understand his passion. Instead they picketed his house, threw garbage at him when he left to go to school and called the police to report satanic activity. Michael was devestated– how could they think he would hurt a creature just to be mean? He was fascinated with the similarities between mammals; if man shared over 2/3 of his DNA with other animals, wouldn’t it make sense that they could become one creature? Human/animal hybrids were evoluntionarily inevitable as Michael saw it, and his neighbors’ intolerance disgusted him. He dreamed of owning an island where he could live alone, free to pursue his scientific endeavors away from prying eyes and judgment. As he was just a child, it would be years before he could make that a reality. In the meantime, Michael’s experiments progressed to the next phase; he moved into his mother’s basement and set up a lab. Soon thereafter, the neighborhood dogs and cats started disappearing. Nobody harassed young Michael after that.