Chemistry Lab

Pilshoffer was the name of our old teacher, 'twas chemistry that made him what he was and clung to. Made up of strictly chemicals, like atoms, molecules and many, as yet unknown exotic particles. The place one would expect to find his soul had been completely taken over by aromatic clusters of blue aldehydes. He needed no botox, as all expression had been deep-frozen so long ago. And in his smelly, fizzy, gurgly, bubbly, yet so punctual life he smiled just once. It was just moments prior to the great event, when this obedient student blew up the Lab of Chemistry, but hadn't meant to, really.