Emeril picked up some salt and threw it in theatrically. “Bam!” he yelled. He waited for applause, but none was forthcoming. “This is harder than the old days,” he said.
Dealing with offal hadn’t been one of his specialties at first, but after time he found he had a real knack for it. A few more snips and the heart was now set. Emeril masterfully tied a few surgeon’s knots with butcher’s twine and the cavity was sown back up.
Lightning struck the rods outside and a moan arose from the corpse lying in front of him. “Bam! It’s alive!”
Never Short On Words 