Normal Colored Bread/PartOne/BlurbFour

(From the perspective of Keith Hanson)

"A clone?" asked Sarah. "Is he as hot as you?"

Tanmuk and I were stunned for a moment.

"He was a foo... and that's why I don't like to talk about him," I said. "The fact that those suckas created a foo from MAH genes is unbearable."

Tanmuk began, "Well, if you don't want to..." but I stopped him.

"I must, because my foo'ish clone was a foo, and more than that, a big sucka. He really stole bikes!" I knew that people said that about me, but he's not me, he's my evil clone!

The cat lay on the floor while we humans, as a superior species, sat on the bed.

Memories of my being cloned rushed forth. I was in a laboratory, strapped to a less-than-comfy bed. My DNA was taken through a needle, then analyzed and isolated. It was placed in a canister of some sort and allowed to age rapidly. In three hours it had grown to my age, at that time three years.

"Doctor, what's the dangers of doing this?" my mother said. She had wanted me cloned because, by some circumstance, she had found herself incapable of childbirth a second time.

The doctor replied, "None whatsoever. Unless, of course, the DNA sample was tainted and the personality skewered. But that hasn't happened before."

Flash forward to when I was 12. I had eavesdropped on my parents. Shame on them for leaving that door ajar.

"...I don't ever remember buying him that bicycle. Honey, did you buy him a bicycle?" my mother asked, worried. My father denied ever buying my clone a bike.

"He's also been gone way too long. He said he'd be back by three forty-two. It's six fifty now. I think we should go find him," my father added. "And we should take Keith along; I'm sure he's listening at the door."

My parents took me to the IzzCorp MegaMall, the last place he had been seen (and the place with the most bikes in the area). Somehow I had convinced them to drop me off and leave me there.

I searched the 42 floors of the MegaMall diligently. A man in a pink jumpsuit pointed at me on the 38th floor and shouted, "That black guy stole my bike!"

I lost the mob that started to chase me somewhere on the 40th floor. On the 41st floor I found my clone.

My clone was speeding around the mall on a stolen bicycle. The man from the 38th floor gasped, "Hey! That's the guy that stole my bike!" and proceeded to chase him.

I called out to him, "Hey! Brock! Get off that fucking bike right now!" He stuck his tongue at me and continued speeding. I tried again. "Hey foo! Get off that damn bike! I'm warning you!"

Brock turned his head towards me. "Keith?! WTF are you doing here?" But I looked ahead of his path: he was heading straight for a shelf of Izwzyzxian Television Sets!

I tried to warn him. I really did. But he stuck his tongue out at me and put his fingers in his ears. On a fucking bike. Big mistake.

He crashed an Izwzyzxian TV, which invited two more Izwzyzxian TVs to fall onto him. The mighty viewing screens splattered his guts all over the surface of the 41st level of the IzzCorp MegaMart. "Keith... Keith... You lose at life!" were his final words.

The funeral was that night. The man in the pink jumpsuit was there, not only to apologize for blaming the theft on me, but to curse at my clone. My parents and I gave our respects. And then we all went out to Pizza Hut.

"And that," I said to Sarah and Tanmuk. "is what happened." My friends were stunned at the demise of my clone, in addition to his stupidity.

"Hanson..." said Sarah quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"So am I," agreed Tanmuk. "I'm sorry you had an idiot for a clone. What a moron."

"Actually," I said, "I feel better now. I guess I didn't have to pity that foo, because God already did in his death." It was true - I did feel better knowing that I could go on pitying foos relentlessly.