Fiction logo

Henry Jekyll's (Somewhat) Full Statement of the Case

A Lampoon

By Megan KochanukPublished 2 years ago 3 min read
Like

I was born in the year 18-- to a fortune as grand as I am, wanting for nothing and praised by all. To be frank, there are few (if any) who match my prowess in entertaining and scientific knowledge; certainly there are few who may boast a more pleasing visage. Yet despite my obvious charms, there was this unremitting, vexing feeling that I could not yet name. Thus, one brisk afternoon, as I sat exhausted in my study after being forced to scream myself hoarse at the chambermaid (the ugly little thing had had the gall to ask for an advance on her wages), a thought struck me. Is there not a war waging within my breast? It seemed to me impossible that as pure a gentleman as myself harbored any malevolence, yet I was determined to push out even the smallest chip. I devised a plan to create a tonic to draw out this evil, thinking of all the good it would do myself (and of course humanity).

I labored for weeks, despite being constantly interrupted by my irksome buffoon of a butler, Pook. Or perhaps it is Poove. His meddling forced me to waste several fine plates in my anger but nonetheless, I finished my deed. The potion worked in a strange, pleasant way, like hot butter spreading across the body. When I looked in the mirror, I was more beautiful than ever: taller, well-built, with blond tumbling locks (quite unlike my own raven ones) and wet, doe-like eyes the color of forget-me-nots. My heart burst with newfound generosity, and I quickly inked some words down on a piece of paper and signed with the name “Henry Jekyll.”

I opened the door of my laboratory and Pook (or is it Poove?) stumbled back in haste, surprise etched into his features. So heavy was my heart at that moment for having mistreated him that I kissed him plain on the mouth before grasping him firmly by the shoulders.

“My dear friend! Excuse my impertinence, but I have heard nothing but good things from Dr. Jekyll about you and couldn’t contain my excitement. I am Mr. Hyde, do tell me your name!”

“Poole, sir.”

“Poole it is! Poole my man, donate 1000 pounds of Dr. Jekyll’s fortune to the most destitute charity in town. Ah, and raise your wages by whatever you see fit, as well as the rest of the staff. This note from Dr. Jekyll should suffice for withdrawing the funds.” Poole’s eyes widened until all the whites could be seen and began to mumble his fervent thanks.

“Ah, what a glorious day!” I cried, smacking Pook/Poove on the rear gaily before striding down the stairs to break my fast.

The rest of the day was a blur. I helped 14 elderly croons cross the street, managed to save a scrawny cat from a tree (ripping my fine suit in the process I may add) and, most distressingly, actually swept an old man's front steps like a common street boy eager for a penny.

A week has passed and I fear this bloody Hyde philanthropist has all but taken over. I am writing with the last vestige of my glorious mind, but soon he will return and make me destitute. He plans to sell the rest of my collectible Egyptian pipes to fund the new orphanage. Can you imagine? The finest ivory, sold for the undergarments of dirty urchins!

This shall be the last the world hears of their beloved Dr. Jekyll. May the ladies weep and the babes wail, I will miss the world dearly (though not as much as it will miss me).

Fan Fiction
Like

About the Creator

Megan Kochanuk

I am happiest when I've spun a fantastical idea into existence; I am a budding fiction writer who is just starting her career.

You can most easily find me planting trees and swatting away horseflies.

She/Her

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

Megan Kochanuk is not accepting comments at the moment

Want to show your support? Send them a one-off tip.

Find us on social media

Miscellaneous links

  • Explore
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Use
  • Support

© 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.