Forest Guardians Chronicles: A Matter of Humanity by Beth Roose (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📕

began while holding up the testing mechanism, “is a swab I use to extract saliva from your mouth. Now, this will not hurt, could you please open your mouth wide?” The drone complied and Morgan inserted the swab in his mouth, extracting saliva from the inside of the drone’s cheek. Removing the swab from the drone’s mouth, Morgan looked at the creature with kind eyes, “Not so bad, eh?” The drone sat mute. Okay, now, I will need a sample of your skin as well as a sample of the poison in your stinger. The Drone looked worried and almost upset. Morgan reassured him that the removal of skin would only feel like a scratch. The creature nodded his head, signaling that Morgan was in the clear to begin the procedure. Morgan reached inside another short glass jar on a shiny silver table within arms reach of his examination table. This time he pulled out a metallic instrument that looked comparable to a knife. Morgan held it in his hand at eye level with himself and the drone, giving the creature a full disclosure of what would be used. The Drone scooted back and nearly fell off the table at the sight of the instrument.

Realizing his public display of cowardice, the drone lifted his chin, sat up straight, and scooted forward confidently and exclaimed, “Just do it. I fear nothing, not even your foreign scientific instruments.” Morgan reached forward and gently took one of the creature’s legs in his hand. They both locked eyes for a few seconds, Morgan making sure that the creature was indeed ready to proceed, and the creature, although displaying a brave persona, making sure that Morgan was indeed not going to harm him. Morgan gave him a nod and slight smile. The drone then turned his head in the opposite direction of his leg and Morgan knew that was a signal to proceed. He carefully, but quickly removed a small piece of skin. “All done.” Morgan said to the drone, the creature visibly relaxing after the extraction. The drone watched Morgan put the sample into a clear glass bottle that was short and skinny. “Alright,” Morgan turned back around to face his wordless patient. “The last thing I need is a sample of your poison from your stinger.” The drone moved his wicked sharp stinger up over his back like a scorpion.  Morgan opened a large jar with a wide top that had a cushion-like material underneath the lid.  “Okay, I will put this jar lid on the table with a gripper underneath it so it will not move. Whenever you are ready, drone, go ahead. Please provide your sample.” The chemist backed away slowly, hoping to avoid any contact with the stinger. Surprisingly, the creature complied to Morgan’s request without question and began the extraction process. Morgan thought it odd that the venom was green, but said nothing to the drone. “So, it will take a couple of days to concoct the correct treatment for you, but right now, I can see you look somewhat stable,” not the exact term Morgan would use, in fact the creature looked more than a bit ill, “but I will work as quickly as possible on the formulation.” The drone, hesitant in his stance,  responded with a question.

“Are you sure I will be OK while you prepare my treatment?” Morgan, stunned by the creature's second reveal of cowardice, responded to him. “Of course, I cured your Queen, did I not?” The drone looked down at his hands, then peered at the colored beakers and tubes, and then over to Morgan without saying a word. Morgan pointed to a closed door that leads to a dark side room. “This is your new home!” Morgan exclaimed. “You will stay in this room. The temperature is exceptionally low so that your metabolism will be lowered. This will help keep the poison from encroaching into your organs. You will find a bamboo platform with a glass covering.  Fly on in and make yourself at home. I will keep it dark so you may rest. Any questions?”

The drone gave no response, but he complied and flew into the room landing onto the cool, glass platform. Morgan walked across the room and shut the door to the side room, putting distance between him and his unusually silent guest. Morgan strode over to his chair and sat down, looking back at the guest room. Shaking his head, he said aloud, “I am not doing one more thing without going to see Mr. Garman. I am in this splicing and cloning thing way over my head. Mr. Garman has helped me before. Let’s see what he can do with this.”  Morgan turned off the Crisper, stood up, and walked to the door. He flipped off the light switch and walked out of the lab, leaving his guest alone for the night.

2

Guilt and Possibilities

Morgan stood staring at a very old and large hickory wood door. He loved the door handle. He thought it was clever to use an old microscope as the handle. Morgan adjusted his shirt collar trying to get the nerve to ring the doorbell. He spotted it just to the right of the eccentric, yet comically expressive door handle. He hesitated, turned to walk away, and then turned back and thought to himself, come on Morgan, get it over with. With that said, he used all of his might and built up courage from his personal pep talk and rang the doorbell. He chuckled to himself when he listened to the doorbell music play, thinking to himself, of course the Star Trek theme song is the ring. The door opened and Morgan was greeted with a wide smile by an old familiar face, Mr. Garman. Peering up through shining eyes, Morgan smiled at the old man and cleared his throat. “Hello, Mr. Garman. It is Morgan, Morgan King. I hope this is not a bad time for you and I realize it is