Kong Lab Civil War: The End

Read The Beginning followed by The Middle.

***

As with any war, there are ceasefire moments. Our lab agreed to one so we could grace the annual cancer biology department holiday party on December 12^th. Upon entering the club, we were assigned name tags, of which we were strictly told to respond to through the evening. Min and Yuwen were to be properly known as Suzy Snowflake and Turtle Dove, respectively. Thai was named Holiday and Ying was given the awesome identifier, Feliz Navidad. Mari was referred to as Mary’s Christmas Baby. And to my Christmas delight, I was branded as Mr. Grinch.

We were also given clothes pins to wear. The point of the game was to collect as many pins by tricking people to say our real name instead of the assigned holiday name. The clothes pin power game was strong between Mary’s Christmas Baby, Holiday, and Mr. Grinch. Eventually Mr. Grinch was able to amass eight pins and thereby win AMC gift cards.

My victory was short-lived.

Tuesday the 13^th would prove to be the second ugliest day of the two-ish week battle. The bright morning signified perfect California weather ahead. Perhaps this inspired a desire for cleanliness, but whatever the reason, the war escalated to chemical skirmishes.

I managed to capture the action on my phone.

Obviously, I endured. I was able to survive the stench of undiluted bleach poured into a large sink. I overcame the odor of the repellent disinfectant that prides itself as being “bactericidal, fungicidal, virucidal, and tuberculocidal.” How? It is the very feature that Thai later took a dig at-- my plump cheeks. The Navajo ancestry who bestowed such cheeks imbued me with a strong bodily constitution.

In stating this to Thai, I resolved to finally order myself a 23andMe kit to test my claim. Whatever drama I fostered with the word 'hippie' was nothing compared to the displeasure displayed by Thai to the words 'genetic testing'.

"Xazmin, are you serious?! Don't do it! Haven't you seen Black Mirror? I will never have my genome sequenced. Are you okay that others have that information? Just imagine what can happen. What if they use your genome to create clones of you?"

"That would be sweet! The world needs more of me running around. I need more of me to finish whatever I've started. Sign me up yesterday." 

Though I went 0/3 that day, the simple act of purchasing the kit catapulted my psyche into an unbeatable mindset. Hope rallied optimism. Optimism was channeled into spirited work. Work produced answers, which brought me cheer. Basically, for the next three days, I should have been called Beyonce because I slayed.  

By December 15th, when melancholy made its weekly visit to trouble the Kong Lab, I could not be affected. Others succumbed to its mirthless effects while I cheerily moved from one project to another. Thai and Min conceded defeat to our foe, depression. I did not yield. But I could not glory in my triumph against a common enemy while battling my lab mates. My heart, having grown two sizes larger, caused me to speak honestly with them. 

"I'm sorry you guys feel so sad. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?"

"No. I just don't like Thursdays. Lab meetings always remind me that I haven't done anything." 

"I'll be fine. I'm just stuck with a lot of writing. I can't wait for the weekend."

"Okay. Well, I am cheering for you both. I call an end to the Kong Lab Civil Wars." 

***

The End 

Kong Lab Civil War: The Middle

***

As it turns out, sleep deprivation is no joke. My mind was so addled with lack of sleep that I did not immediately note the historical significance of my declaration (Dec 7). In fact, anything I said that day should be blotted from the records. Words are my enemy when I am sleep deprived.

As soon as I made the dramatic statement, my allies drowned each other out.

“That is NOT a hippie purse.”

“Did you mean hipster instead of hippie?”

“Go home now, Xazmin!”

“It looks more hipster than hippie.”

“Hipster and hippie, what’s the difference?”

“What are you still doing here?”

I surveyed my work and smirked. I knew my girls (Mari, Min, Ying, and Yuwen) would not allow Thai to get away with such a statement. So I swung the purse across my body and quickly exited the laboratory.

I drove home, climbed into bed, and dreamed the rest of the night into oblivion. 

***

Sleep is the cure to everything. Not true at all, but I still like to quote it often. I returned to the lab invigorated. Words held no weight, war was forgotten, and all was well in the Kong kingdom for a peaceful record of two days. Unfortunately, alcohol was spent, which was quickly followed by the drums of war.   

The provocation this time was not caused by indolent language. Thai claims that it was due to a “faulty” spray bottle. I maintain it was an act of aggression for past accusations. Basically, Thai and I were propagating cancer cell lines in the two-person tissue culture laminar flow hood. I occupied the left side, while he worked on the right side. I fleetingly lifted the lid to my plate of cells as Thai opportunely sprayed his gloves with the ethanol bottle (standard aseptic technique). With Legolas-like aim, the alcohol squirted directly onto my plate of cells. 

"Oi! Watch where you're pointing that!" 

"Oh! I'm sorry."

"Are you trying to kill my cells?"

"No! I swear I wasn't!"

 "Hmm... I see I've got to watch my back with you." 

No more than two minutes passed when Thai sprayed his gloves to re-enter the TC hood. This time, the jet of alcohol hit me in the corner of my right eye. 

"Really?! Really, Thai? So was I the original target when you ‘accidentally’ sprayed my cells earlier?

“Something’s wrong with this bottle. Sorry.”

Needless to further explain, shots had been fired and war was declared back on for the next three days. 

***

To be continued