"One o' these days I'll have to force-feed
you if you won't pay no mind to your own nourishment!"
"Sorry, old-timer." Tom smiled. "Sometimes I do get a bit wrapped up, I
guess."
Hour after hour, Tom stayed glued to his workbench, sometimes busy with
delicate electronic gear, sometimes lost in thought as he pondered a
tricky problem in circuit design. It was long after dark when he drove
home from the experimental station, yet he was back on the job in his
laboratory early the next morning.
By lunchtime Tom had all the apparatus assembled. He was just trying on
the plastic suit, with all its accompanying paraphernalia, when Chow
made his usual appearance.
"Great sufferin' snakes!" the cook gasped. "You ain't goin' divin' in
_that_ getup, I hope! You look like a Christmas tree, boss!"
Tom nodded glumly. "Know something, Chow? That's just what I was
thinking myself."
The young inventor's suit was loaded down with the various electronic
units and festooned with wires. Even taking a few steps around the lab
convinced Tom that the design was too unwieldy.
"I'd probably either get tangled in seaweed or sink from sheer weight,"
he muttered.
Changing back to his slacks and T shirt, Tom began eating abstractedly
as Chow hovered around.
"If fishes could talk, I reckon you'd scare 'em half to death in that
rig!" Chow said, trying to cheer Tom.
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