Hello and welcome to our weekly advice column by Captain Happily Married, Edison City’s heroic defender against evil, injustice, and interpersonal conflicts! Today’s topic, forwarded by : acids and what to do about it!
Dear Captain,
I have a problem. I recently gave birth to a an adorable little child named Lil-oh wait no how did you get over there wait no Mommy needs thasfsglshglg
…
My apologies; this actually leads into my problem. My child, Lilian, is just darling, and when she was born she seemed perfectly normal. Except now we’ve learned that she can produce acid at will. Not just your normal stomach acids or even something more manageable like vinegar or whatever it is they put in those soda drinks my husband is so fond of. No, she produces an acid they can’t even classify. We’ve tried. It isn’t chlorine, it isn’t hydrofluoric, it isn’t anything found on Earth. That’s what the last chemists we hired told us, and they were from Stanford.
What we do know is that this acid, whatever it is, burns through absolutely everything. Nearly everything, anyway: steel, lead, carbon, it even burnt my multi-carat diamond engagement ring. I’m told it’s irreparable now and I’ll have to get a new one made; I didn’t even know you could cut diamonds except with a laser or something. The only thing the acid doesn’t burn through is living matter, curiously enough. Lilian herself doesn’t seem to mind at all; she practically revels in it. But as for the rest of us, well, you can understand our dilemma.
I had to dictate this letter by voice memo because I couldn’t risk bringing my phone close enough to her, and she still managed to get hold of it and spit acid at it. It’s virtually impossible to keep her in diapers, or any sort of clothing at all for very long. She’s destroyed eleven bassinets, twelve car seats, and an absolutely adorable giant panda that my sister Olivia sent over for the baby shower. I really don’t know how to proceed. What are we going to tell the schools? '
I thought I would write you and see if there was anything you could do to, I don’t know, fix it or something.
Sincerely,
Harriet McFlintishire
Dear Fancy,
Okay, this is Super Soccer Mom filing in for the Captain as he’s out on patrol. I’m gonna do two things for you. First, I had my cybernetically enhanced soccer ball Seymour contact those chemists you talked to and scan their results and we managed to come up with what should be a passable antidote. It should, and I do say should, reduce the acid to something along the line of your normal bodily fluids. Let me know if that doesn’t work and we’ll try again. Worst case Seymour might need to do an actual scan of the kiddo herself. Shouldn’t be a problem. Seymour’s great with kids.
Second, you ever met Chlorine Cal? Specializes in chlorine, thus the name, knows a bit about the rest too. Knows a lot about practical stuff to help with this kind of thing. For example, I’m also including a packet of nanodiapers and a pajama set; they can absorb fluids and disencabulate it into new material which is then reconverted at a subatomic level into the fabric of the diaper again. Not sure how it works, but basically, even if the acid gets part of it, it can rebuild and keep going. Enough to hold you anyway. This stuff helped out Cal’s parents a lot, or so he tells me. He didn’t go into specifics, obviously.
Anyhow, between the nanodiapers and pajamas for the immediate problem and the antidote, you should be covered. Write again if you need more help. And take a breath, okay? There are worse problems in the world than an acid baby. Just ask Gravity Well. She had to move to another freakin’ dimension because every time her kid threw a tantrum the planets moved two feet.
All of them.
Even Pluto.
You think you have problems.
Good luck, justice, etc.
Super Soccer Mom
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