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late, but I am afraid I am in desperate need of your help. May I come in?”

The old man, not phased by the time at all, gave a cheery smile and wave, signaling Morgan to come in. “Of course I remember you, Morgan! Please, come in and make yourself at home! It is a delight to see you this evening. After all, it has been quite a while since we last crossed paths. What can I do for you on this fine night? Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”

Mr. Garman made his way to the kitchen, Morgan following close behind him admiring the trinkets and gadgets that lined Mr. Garman’s tiny hallway. “Thanks, Mr. Garman,” Morgan said in a warm voice. “I am a fan of both, so either is fine. It certainly has been awhile. How have you been?” Morgan made himself at home around a small yellow table with metal chairs, comparable to an elementary school chair. The kitchen was large and was full of experimental gadgets littering the shelves on the walls and vinyl blue countertops. On the walls were photographs of Mr. Garman from his younger days. Peeking from behind the picture frames were old walls lined with relatively fresh yellow wallpaper that was so bright, it put the sun to shame. Or was it the fluorescent light bulbs buzzing above Morgan’s head that made it seem so unusually vibrant in the room? Either or. The room fit Mr. Garman’s style to a tee. Suddenly, interrupting Morgan’s curious visual expedition around the room, Mr. Garman plopped the coffee maker on the countertop along with several flavors for the taking. Morgan recognized a few of the flavors, such as vanilla, hazelnut, and chocolate, but as Mr. Garman continued to pull more bags of coffee out of the cupboard, the flavors became quite peculiar. Tangerine, marshmallow key lime, lollipop swirl, and peanut butter parfait were coffee flavors Morgan had never heard of, but he knew he had to try some.

“Well, Morgan, as you can see, I have an array of flavors to choose from, all up for grabs!” Mr. Garman turned to Morgan, waving at his coffee bags like a game show host showing off the million dollar prize. Craning his neck to see all of the flavors being offered, Morgan finally decided to go with the peanut butter parfait flavored coffee, and Mr. Garman taking the marshmallow key lime. Needless to say, the scent coming from both brew flavors added to the character of the already over characterized kitchen.  Both men silently sat while awaiting their hot drinks, so silent that the rumbles and groans coming from the coffee maker compared to the stomach of a starved beast. Breaking the silence, Morgan politely asked if he could have the honor of using Mr. Garman’s Star Trek mug sitting by the coffee dispenser. Mr. Garman laughed and smiled a boy-like grin. “Of course my dear friend. You are the guest, after all.” Mr. Garman poured the bubbling hot coffee from the large glass coffee pot into the Star Trek mug. “Any sugar or milk with that, Morgan?” Mr. Garman asked as he turned to pour himself his marshmallow key lime drink.

“No thank you, Mr. Garman. I am already sweet enough.”

With a grand humph and a plop of a sugar cube in his drink, Mr. Garman muttered, “That is what Marsha usually says. Marsha is my daughter, but I am sure you already knew that, Morgan. I am sure I mentioned her a time or two in class back in the day.” Spinning around on his heels with his coffee in hand, Mr. Garman pulled one of the metal chairs out and sat down next to Morgan. Folding his hands together on top of the table, the old man took a big sigh. “Alright ,Morgan, enough small talk. There is trouble written all over your face. What is bothering you, son? Is it the Hornet Queen and her twelve drones? Are they dead? I saw Bev Grissom today at church. She told me all about what happened with the Forest Guardians and her leg and the killing of the Hornet Queen. Bev did not know what happened to the drones though. Let us start over. Tell me everything. The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

Morgan spent over two hours in deep conversation with Mr. Garman, explaining everything that happened between the Forest Guardians and the Hornet Queen. Morgan was even brave enough to mention the poisoned drone that was taking residence in his lab. For a man of many words, Mr. Garman spoke extraordinarily little during that time. The old man listened intently to every single word and detail that Morgan provided, after all, Mr. Garman wanted to make sense of the hardly believable tale he was told by the infamous Bev Grissom. After awhile, there was a pause in the conversation and the silence was slightly uncomfortable. Mr. Garman adjusted his seating position, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath while shaking his head back and forth in disbelief of the tale of events. Gulping down his last bit of coffee, he turned to Morgan and began to speak for the first time in what felt like hours. Disgusted by the recent events revealed to him, Mr. Garman scolded Morgan. “I am surprised by the events of this story and your lack of accountability to not only the Forest Guardians, but to your home, the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. Most importantly, I am appalled by your actions towards your community.” The old man sat at the table staring in his coffee cup before he continued. After awhile, he looked up at Morgan with cold eyes and a stare that could make a statue uncomfortable. “Morgan, I am extremely disappointed in you. Now that I have stated my peace, I know you are a brilliant scientist. You obviously can work magic with gene splicing. There are obviously moral issues with what you have created -

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