Revenge of Strange and Crappy Short Story Bonanza continues! 
Confederate Money
Greg Felp's nose began to bleed. He was used to the nosebleeds by now, having long ago accepted them as just part and parcel of his theoretical brain aneurysm. Wiping his face clean with his sleeve, Greg ducked into the nearest bar without breaking stride. No one took notice of him as he headed for the restroom. He washed his face thoroughly, sat down on one of the toilets, and waited. This was a common event for Greg, waiting around on a toilet, because he had always wanted to live like Elvis had. Having failed to do that, he settled for at least dying like Elvis had.
An hour passed and Greg was still alive. Muttering to himself, he left the restroom and sat at the bar. It only took half a beer before two men approached him.
"Hey," the first man said. "Aren't you that inventor guy? Greg Something?"
"Felps," Greg answered. "Yes."
The second man punched Greg in the jaw. Greg a fell off his seat but the first man caught him by the jacket. The first man then grabbed Greg by the hair and slammed Greg's head against the bar, where he held it.
"Our brother was killed by one of your servant-bots," the first man yelled in his ear. "Some boon to humanity they were. Supposed to make our lives easier, not shorter!"
"I," Greg coughed. "I'm sorry. But how was I supposed to know they'd been programmed for evil?"
"We don't care about that," the second man said. "Our brother was an asshole. We were glad he'd been offed. Got a nice chunk of change from the insurance and then an even nicer settlement after we sued Science Corp."
"But then you hadda go and prove God doesn't exist," the first man said. "Now we know our brother isn't in Hell. And that's what we're pissed about." The first man threw Greg to the floor. The second man knelt down and grabbed him by the collar.
"Next time you prove there isn't an afterlife, I'm going to kick your ass," the second man warned. With that, the second man pushed Greg to the floor. Greg decided the best course of action was inaction and just stared at the ceiling until he heard the two men leave.
Once his attackers were gone, Greg began to get up. The bartender sprang out from behind the bar to assist Greg to his feet.
"You shouldn't take that from dopes like them," the bartender said. "You're a scientist, right? You should make a shrinking ray to zap them. Or maybe do some mathematizing to prove they don't exist or something."
"Math should never be used as a weapon, friend," Greg responded as he dusted himself off. "It's too powerful a force for any human being to control."
"Well, alright, mack," the bartender shrugged. "Anyway, give those two enough time to get far away as possible. Why don't you finish your beer? It's on the house."
"But I already paid for it," Greg said. But the bartender was too busy stealing money from the register to hear him. Greg sighed and stared at his beer for twenty minutes.
Confederate Money
Greg Felp's nose began to bleed. He was used to the nosebleeds by now, having long ago accepted them as just part and parcel of his theoretical brain aneurysm. Wiping his face clean with his sleeve, Greg ducked into the nearest bar without breaking stride. No one took notice of him as he headed for the restroom. He washed his face thoroughly, sat down on one of the toilets, and waited. This was a common event for Greg, waiting around on a toilet, because he had always wanted to live like Elvis had. Having failed to do that, he settled for at least dying like Elvis had.
An hour passed and Greg was still alive. Muttering to himself, he left the restroom and sat at the bar. It only took half a beer before two men approached him.
"Hey," the first man said. "Aren't you that inventor guy? Greg Something?"
"Felps," Greg answered. "Yes."
The second man punched Greg in the jaw. Greg a fell off his seat but the first man caught him by the jacket. The first man then grabbed Greg by the hair and slammed Greg's head against the bar, where he held it.
"Our brother was killed by one of your servant-bots," the first man yelled in his ear. "Some boon to humanity they were. Supposed to make our lives easier, not shorter!"
"I," Greg coughed. "I'm sorry. But how was I supposed to know they'd been programmed for evil?"
"We don't care about that," the second man said. "Our brother was an asshole. We were glad he'd been offed. Got a nice chunk of change from the insurance and then an even nicer settlement after we sued Science Corp."
"But then you hadda go and prove God doesn't exist," the first man said. "Now we know our brother isn't in Hell. And that's what we're pissed about." The first man threw Greg to the floor. The second man knelt down and grabbed him by the collar.
"Next time you prove there isn't an afterlife, I'm going to kick your ass," the second man warned. With that, the second man pushed Greg to the floor. Greg decided the best course of action was inaction and just stared at the ceiling until he heard the two men leave.
Once his attackers were gone, Greg began to get up. The bartender sprang out from behind the bar to assist Greg to his feet.
"You shouldn't take that from dopes like them," the bartender said. "You're a scientist, right? You should make a shrinking ray to zap them. Or maybe do some mathematizing to prove they don't exist or something."
"Math should never be used as a weapon, friend," Greg responded as he dusted himself off. "It's too powerful a force for any human being to control."
"Well, alright, mack," the bartender shrugged. "Anyway, give those two enough time to get far away as possible. Why don't you finish your beer? It's on the house."
"But I already paid for it," Greg said. But the bartender was too busy stealing money from the register to hear him. Greg sighed and stared at his beer for twenty minutes.
..just to warn you, in about six years i'll probably leave you for a chick.
but until then, we could have TOTALLY raucous sex! and maybe even breed! think how powerful our offspring could be! i just hope you're not REALLY a superhero, because then my womb would prolly not be able to receive your seed.