The explosion really was quite impressive, managing to spatter the dizzyingly high ceiling of the common room.

About twenty feet away from the table now streaked with a star-shaped char pattern, Dr. Cockroach sputtered, coughed, pulled himself up into a sitting position and wiped the coating of white foam from his face. The floor was already covered with the stuff, and more was gently raining down from several hundred-odd feet up.

B.O.B. was gleefully racing around the foamy wasteland. "It's snowing!"

A slim hand fumbled in the interior pocket of his lab coat, finally evicting a small notebook. The Doctor flipped to the entry for Experiment 4287. "Results..." he murmured as he wrote. "Success."

Then he collapsed backwards and watched the room spin.

Link sighed, shaking off his own dusting. "Some days, it just doesn't pay to get out of the tank." Then a handful of white mush splattered against the side of his head. A laugh issued from the vicinity of a few blobs of white foam floating at eye level.

"Oh, it's on now!" the fishman growled, scooping up his own ammo. "I've actually got a target this time!"

Meanwhile, behind the observation screen, Monger stared down a group of cowering subordinates. "Which one of you idiots let Dr. Cockroach get his hands on baking soda and vinegar?!"


A/N: Mad science? Check. Ensemble humor? Check. Bad pun for a title? Oh, double check on that one, baby. This was too much fun. I was actually giggling maniacally as I wrote it.