So John Scalzi, in addition to writing really good sci-fi novels, also writes a column for filmcritic.com. Since he’s on a book tour in Germany, instead of the usual sci-fi movie stuff he writes, his latest column was a list of writing assignments for his readers. Now this is not the sort of thing you can do to my brain, which proceeded to wake me up constantly last night with new lines for the first topic, namely convincing him (and his flamethrower) that I am not the Thing. In rhyme. Here’s what my sleepy head came up with. (Note: Spoilers for the 1982 movie, The Thing, ahead. And if you haven’t seen it, well why not?)

I'm Not a Thing (But You Are Dressed as One)

Yes, you want to test my blood, but I don't think it's necessary.
 If I were a monster, wouldn't I be all grotesque and hairy?
 Plus I've never been alone with anyone that's been infected.
 Even if you did the test, I'm sure I wouldn't be rejected.

I'm the one that you should trust, so put that old flamethrower down.
 Don't let your suspicions keep on making you act like a clown.
 Look, I'll even burn myself, since that's all that your test is doing.
 Ow, that really smarts! But there's no metamorphosis ensuing.

C'mon, put the scalpel down, MacReady. Let's be reasonable.
 We'll survive the night and then we'll go somewhere more seasonable.
 I can even bring the scotch, and you can grab a couple glasses.
 We'll track down some girls and spend the night attempting drunken passes.

Okay, I can see that you're not buying anything I'm saying,
 So I guess there isn't any point for me to plan on staying.
 If you're so concerned that I'm a creature from another place,
 I'll just take off in the snow and you can all forget my face.
 See you later, paranoids. Just let me grab a pack of smokes.
 Even if I freeze, it's better than appeasing crazy folks.