By Wil Forbis
I was sitting around the Acid
Logic offices last weekend and couldn't help notice that things seemed
quiet. "It hasn't been the same since the layoffs," I thought and poured
a glass of whiskey from one of the nearby Jim Bean bottles that had
been piling up around my desk. I was having an inner debate with myself
as to whether I could summon the lung power to inflate, Susie, the blow
up doll my mother had given me for Christmas when a knock came on the
"Yes?" I asked as I swung open the
office door to be greeted by... myself? Standing before me was an individual
who looked exactly like me, down to the distinguished gray turtleneck,
brown corduroy pants, and timid good looks that would give George Cloony
a run for his money.
"Y-Y-You're me!" I stammered
me," the Wil duplicate replied.
"No, you're me!" I angrily replied.
"Nope, you're me," He responded.
"Nope, you're me"
"Nope, you're me"
Finally, I put and end to
the travesty by saying "Okay, already, you're me…but how can this be?
Are you the long lost twin brother my mother always bemoaned the loss
of… The one without the attention deficit disorder?"
"Not at all," the duplicate
me replied. "I'm your clone. I've traveled from the future to visit
"Ahhh," I replied. "Of course."
"You see," the clone continued.
"I come from the year 2345. In the future the concept of your "acid
logic" is realized to be the most fundamentally profound philosophy
of all time and it was decided that our scientists should create clones
of you from existing hair samples in order to bask in your perfection."
"Well, that seems reasonable
enough," I offered. "But cloning? In my day, the concept of cloning
is something most people find objectionable at best, and they talk of
doomsday scenarios where the world is run by a thousand Adolph Hitlers
running around exterminating everyone."
"Yes, the people of your
time are indeed a savage and misguided group" my clone replied, verifying
my own beliefs. "Your primitive objections to scientific breakthroughs
such as cloning or the use of aborted fetuses for genetic research are
"Hold on," I queried. "You
approve of aborted fetus research?"
"Absolutely" said the Wil-Clone.
"My host father's cancers were defeated through knowledge gained via
aborted fetus research. We love aborted fetuses in the future. They
also make great sushi."
"Wow," I said, my brain
reeling in an attempt to take it all in. "Now you said that your scientists
have created clones of me. There's more than just you?"
"Absolutely! In fact Wil
Forbis, there's someone I'd like you to meet." My clone gestured to
a shadowy figure in the hallway and that figure came forth, revealing
himself to be yet another spectacular rendition of my trim and stylishly
"Wil Forbis," the first
clone said, "I'd like you to meet Wil-Clone #2, or as I call him, 'Bob'"
"Another clone!" I exclaimed.
"Do you know what this means?"
"Absolutely," the first
clone replied. "Seeing duplicates of yourself must require a profound
adjustment of your world view and shake your deepest concepts of …"
"It means that at long last
my girlfriend can finally have sex with me three times in one night"
"Uhh, actually, I don't
know about that," Clone #1 explained. "I happen to be celibate and Bob
isn't an exact duplicate of you. He has a tendency to swing the other
way if you know what I mean…?"
"Swing the other…?" I repeated,
a befuddled look crossing my face "You mean he dances to swing music?"
"No, no," Clone #1 replied.
"He… you know, marches to the beat of a different drummer."
"Oh, I gotcha" I said as
the epiphany hit me. "He plays drums in a swing band! Great, I love
Glen Miller and the sharp sounds of Archie…"
"NO, YOU IDIOT!" Clone #1
exploded. "HE'S QUEER!"
"Jesus, you don't have to
yell," I said, genuinely wounded.
"He is a big meany, isn't
he, "Clone #2 said, putting a reassuring arm around me. "But you're
kind of a cutie. Let's ditch him and go to the nearest Hamburger Mary's.
I've got a hankering for their chicken wings and mustard sauce"
"Uncanny…" I said while
stepping back to avoid the amorous advances of… myself. "I love their
chicken wings too. But this opens up so many questions. Is cloning in
the future safe? Don't people wonder if you have souls?"
"It's absolutely safe" Clone
#1 replied. "And we have just as much soul as you…"
"I love to dance!" Clone
"Of course," Clone #1 continued,
"We happen to know plenty of people have accused you of being a soulless
heathen who regularly mocks the misery of others for his own loutish
enjoyment… so maybe claiming that we have as much soul as you isn't
saying a whole lot."
"Ahhh, don't listen to my
mother's blatherings." I argued. "I'm a big ol' fuzzball. Listen, it
seems to me I'd be much happier in this future world where all my work
is finally recognized for the vast genius that it is. Can you take me
back to the future in your time machine?"
"Absolutely," both clones
enthused. "In our world you will be worshipped like a king. Your wit,
geek-like sense of style and love affair with inane celebrity trivia
are all understood and enjoyed in the future. Plus, we have robot prostitutes!
It'll be the time of your life!"
"I can't wait," I said "A
world where everyone appreciates a baked salmon dinner, the films of
Woody Allen, the comedy of Stan Freberg, the writing of Lester Bangs,
and the music of Gilby Clarke's oft ignored album, "Pawnshop Guitars.""
"Certainly," Clone #1 said.
"Waitasec… did you say Gilby Clarke?"
"Of course," I replied.
"You have to admit that his merging of Rolling Stone-esque songwriting
with a nineties pop sensibility produced one of the greatest albums
"GILBY CLARKE SUCKS!" chimed
in Clone #2. "I thought you liked Devo!"
"Well, sure, Devo's great,"
I stated. "But hey, I wanted to expand my horizons. You can't listen
to Devo forever."
"Sure you can!" Clone #1
exploded again, showcasing a violent, poorly controlled rage that seemed
strangely familiar. "In the future, anything to do with Guns-n-Roses
is universally diagnosed as crap. We're not taking you anywhere. You're
an embarrassment to our genes."
"Oh yeah!" I pitchawed.
"I'm not the one eating fetus sushi!"
"We're so oughtta here,
Bob," Clone #1 said, grabbing his brother. "I think we'll do some sightseeing
in this Neanderthal time period, then head back to our future. Let's
leave our primitive forbearer behind."
"Wait!" I called out to
them as they walked down to the hallway. "Take me with you! I need to
go somewhere where I'm respected, even loved. Because here I'm so…so…
Three days later my girlfriend
called me up to tell me that she was breaking up with me. She said she'd
run into my long lost twin brothers and that they were great in the
sack and not opposed to doing a little bi-action.
What do you think? Leave your comments on the Guestbook!
Wil Forbis is a
well known international playboy who lives a fast paced life attending
chic parties, performing feats of derring-do and making love to the
world's most beautiful women. Together with his partner, Scrotum-Boy,
he is making the world safe for democracy. Email - firstname.lastname@example.org
Visit Wil's web log, The Wil Forbis Blog, and receive complete enlightenment.