Michael Malone - Weebly

just now slammed the (helicopter) door in his face, he
(so intimidating to his, staff of Ph.D.s and M.D.s that
they stammered when they spoke to him), he, a man of
science, a man with the skill to transform the substance
of life itself, a man who was the brightest man he had
ever met, he, Thomas Svatopluk! "Come back here,
you ivory-dick twat-head!" he screamed at Wolton.
"Okay, tinker toy! Go ahead and tell on me, see if I
care! Do they want to be number one, or don't they?
Tell them to make up their minds!"
In an excess of feeling, Svatopluk threw a rock at
the tail rotor blade just at the instant when the helicopter
began its ascent. He scrambled for another rock,
picked it up, and hurled it into the night. It winged the
blade. Then everything happened in a matter of
seconds, the way such horrible things usually do.
Tipped, the helicopter went out of control. Svatopluk
was slammed, like a carpet, into the side of a tree. The
tail rotor slammed against the side of his laboratory. A
blade snapped off and flung itself, spinning, through the
window. The machine looped and somersaulted up into
night.