Mr. Romero's lab coat

When I was in high school, I borrowed the chemistry/physics teacher's lab coat. I was set to play a mad scientist in a haunted house.

When I asked him to borrow the coat, I told him what we were doing and that I wanted to look as authentic as I could. We intended to spatter blood and guts around and I knew that I'd get spattered, too.

He said that he didn't mind getting his coat dirty, that a blood-spattered coat might make him more intimidating to unruly students.

My best friend played Igor. Another friend was my poor tortured patient. Patient screamed and thrashed around very convincingly, spattering me. Igor limped around with one shoulder higher than another, throwing blood and guts around freely. I was pretty convincing myself, speaking in a voice so deep, gravelly and frightening that I've never been able to use it again. From that night on, talking in that voice has sent me into coughing fits.



We put on a great show. We enjoyed the gasps and shrieks our onlookers produced. When the night ended, we howled with laughter as we discussed our reception.

Then I looked at Mr. Romero's previously immaculate coat. Caught up in the moment, we didn't notice how bad it had gotten. Jackson Pollock couldn't have done a better job of covering a canvas with paint. Think Joseph's Coat of Many Colors after his brothers had dipped it in blood. All laughter ceased as we contemplated what Mr. Romero would say and do to us.

When I took it back to him the next Monday, he turned as white as the coat had been. Long pause. "Are you SURE this is my coat?" he asked.

"Um, yes."

Long pause.

"Well, if I tell next year's freshmen that I've dissolved unruly students in a chemical bath, they'll believe me!"

Here's how to get a Mad Scientist's Union lab coat. I'm neither endorsing nor getting paid for this. The art was just too good to pass up and I can assuage my conscience by giving them the credit.