As the bartender poured me a glass the drink seemed to take on a life of it's own. All I had to do was take the glass, put it to my lips, and drink. How hard could it be?
Harder than I imagined. I knew if I drank, I would continue drinking. If I continued drinking, I would forget everything that had transpired for the last few hours... at least long enough for the plan to come to fruition. If I didn't, I might go back and undo what I had done. With the latter, I wouldn't live. With the former, I may not be able to live with myself. The pit in my stomach burned, I breathed heavily, holding the glass and staring deeply into it.
Faced with so much to consider I looked at the bartender standing there waiting for me. He wore a black hood which shielded his grim sunken skull. Were his eye's should have been a black emptiness stared back. I knew I had to drink the poison to go on with my journey, but willingly drinking it was hard. My hand started to tremble as the glass touched my lips.
I had just eaten all six bowls of beer nuts at the bar not to mention that five dollar foot long on the ride from the Underground. It's still amazes me that those people can smuggle everyday supplies and food like Subway sandwiches down there. All recruits are asked to eat a foot long Subway ham and cheese sandwich on the last day of proficiency training. I was damn full and my mouth was caked with a potpourri of stale nuts. I needed to drink something and I knew the bartender was losing patience over my hesitation but now he stood directly in front of me holding up two empty bowls in disgust. He cocked his head and nodded a signal to a shorter bartender who picked up a large burlap sack from behind the bar that read Oh Nuts in thick black type. The assistant bartender began to fill both bowl with a mixture of different size bullets and empty shell casings. I took the hint and I knew it was time to 'Initialize,' I knew it was GO TIME.
I put the glass to my lips again, took a deep breath, and tipped my head back. Strange. Nothing. In fact, it tasted a little like ordinary prune juice... Suddenly my body went numb and I started to feel faint. The last thing I remember was falling backward.
I awoke with a massive headache and no recollection of what had transpired that day. I had the feeling I didn't want to remember. I was lying on the concrete floor of a dark, cold room. I could hear deep, serious voices, but I wasn't yet conscious enough to make out what they were saying. One of them must have noticed my eyes were open. He got up quickly and stomped toward me.
Two men peered down at me and a female sat at a table with her back turned towards us. One of the men knelt down next to me to help me sit up. A girl's voice came from the table and asked the men to check the bottoms of my feet for the what she called "the password." He said I had it. As the men helped me to my feet I squinted and sighed with pain. The bottoms of my feet hurt like they had been severely sunburned.
The men helped me to the table and sat me down in an empty chair across from the girl. She was young, had a pale face with buzzed red hair and large sunglasses covering her eyes. She was wearing a white collared shirt with bolo tie and funny patch on her right sleeve.
She asked me my name and all I could remember was a bunch of numbers, 481516-23. "I told you this one's legit," said one of the men "I never said he wasn't," replied the girl. "We need to make sure the right guy was 'initialized' back at the bar. Last time we forgot our due diligence we ended up needlessly erasing the memory of a guy with business cards from H&R Block. I hate eliminating accountants or anyone else with a job and a family."
My mind was racing as I tried to focus on what they were saying. "Why can't I remember my name? I have a regular name like Christian or Harry," I said slowly.
The girl explained to me that when I 'initialized' most of my memory was erased. Only things that happened an hour before initialization were left for me to remember. She asked me what the last meal I ate was and I told her I remember eating a ham sandwich. She asked me if I remember a yellow paper tucked away in the wrapper of the sandwich. I remembered the paper and the random number very well. "Welcome to our world 481516-23," said the girl.
As I came to I felt cold underneath a small white tiled floor, this time my head was pounding. I touched the back of my head and felt a crusted scab. I sat up quickly looking for the two men and the red head. As I glanced around I could tell my environment had shifted. It seemed like the bathroom stall of a loud night club as I could hear the pulsating drum and bass coming from the floor above me. The bathroom door opened and I heard a group of girls giggling as they entered. A girl walked right up to my stall and opened the unlocked door. She jumped back cursing as I scrambled to my feet.
"I'm 481516-23." I said. She backed away as the other girls dragged her by the arm towards the bathroom door. I found it hard to believe that I was just dreaming of the encounter with some kind of underground agents. I began to review the events of the night in my mind; prune juice infused mystery poison at some unknown bar in Queen Anne, woke up on a bathroom floor only to get my head stomped on by some drunk construction worker and now I find myself in the womens bathroom of a derelict night club?
I followed the couple as they passed by the bathroom trying my hardest to keep my gaze to the ground. The girls butt was immense and I couldn't help but gawk at it. The guy she was with looked over his shoulder and noticed my unflinching stare. I instantly looked away but it was too late. He was closing in on me almost at a run yelling, Take your eyes off you loser! My reflexes were too slow to duck his left hook. It connected close to my right temple knocking me hard against the wall. I fell limp to the floor, trying to break my fall with an outstretched hand. He raised a boot and brought it down with full force to my head.
When I woke up... again... I was with the man with the large butt, small head and ruddy complexion. Since the first time I saw him, I thought he looked a little familiar. Up close, I felt even more so that I knew him from somewhere. Gradually, I shook off the second beating I had taken in 24 hours and began to become more aware of my environment.
"Relax," the man said, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Where am I? What's happening to me?"
"Don't worry. It'll all make sense soon enough."
I was laying on a couch with an ice pack on my head. Apparently, I was in his dingy apartment.
"Sorry I had to beat ya' up like that. I couldn't reveal to anyone who I was or more accurately, who we are."
"We?"
"Yeah. You and me. There is so much to explain and so little time."
I wondered how a man with a small red head and a big butt could possibly be in a position to help me and how did he know so much? Could I trust him? In my heart, I felt I could...
maybe it was his voice. Strangely high-pitched and nasaly with what sounded like the slightest hint of an accent that I couldn't place. He reached out a ruddy, dry hand and I took it, grateful for any help I could get in my confusion. I tried to pull myself up and nearly pulled the guy over. He offered another hand, which I took. Still he struggled and strained to pull me to my feet despite the fact that I only weigh about 150 lbs. It became clear that I was going to have get up by my own power. Now on my feet, I could see the man more clearly. He looked as strange as he sounded. His small red head, beady eyes and protruding lips gave the impression that there was something wrong with him.. besides just the microcaphalic, ruddy face and gigantic posterior.
"You keep looking at me as if there's something wrong. The cloning process is flawed. I'm a clone."
"Oh." There was an awkward pause. "What is going on?" I wanted to scream the question.
"Don't worry. You made a decision to work with us. When you took the drink, it started a process. It was the catalyst. It is having unintended side-effects, unfortunately. You need treatment, so the plan can go ahead."
"What do I need to do?"
"Your immune system is not handling the mixture well. You need colostrum, to strengthen your immune system. From a clone. Your clone."
"I have a clone?" I blurted out, my eyes wide.
"It's me, John. I'm your clone."
"My name's John?"
"I'm your clone." I stared at him in total disbelief. I almost started laughing.
"John. If you don't drink the colustrom, you'll die. Trust me. I've got a couple bottles in the fridge. I'll be able to extract more over time. You'll need to drink it every day to get your immune system back to where it needs to be."
"So that's not milk in the fridge, then?"
"It's colustrum that matches the PH balance of your own body. It's the only thing that can save you."
He pulled out one of the bottles and handed it to me. 'Drink', he said in his strange, high-pitched voice. I pulled the lid off of the bottle and sniffed. It had a very slight yet familiar aroma. I also noticed that it wasn't quite milk colored. it had a slightly yellowish cast. I swirled the bottle slightly. The liquid had a thicker, almost sticky texture. 'You need to drink the colostrum if you want to live, John. Like I said, your immune system depends on it. It is absolutely necessary...' that's about where my attention trailed off. I was actually focused more on his 'accent' than on his incessant rambling. I now realized that it was not an accent at all, but what appeared to be a bit of a speech impediment. 'John.. John!!' Said the strange little man with microcephaly, advanced and wide-spread rosacea and what appeared to be a severe case of gigantus gluteus maximus. 'are you even listening to me?!' 'oh, sorry.. I must still be a little groggy' I lied. 'you need to drink the colostrum' I always had trouble admitting when I didn't know something and I had no idea what 'colostrum' was, but it didn't look very tasty. The idea of drinking thick, yellowish liquid by the bottle did not appeal to me in the least. Red-head repeated his statement, 'You must drink the colostrum' The way he said 'colostrum' was kind of funny as I now noticed he also had a slight lisp. I tried not to laugh as I reluctantly pressed the bottle to my lips. Then, just as I was about to take a sip, I mused on the idea that this little dork was supposed to be my clone. The idea suddenly struck me as hilarious and I sputtered colostrum all over 'Red-Head' and doubled over laughing. I laughed so long and hard that it hurt. I made several attempts to straighten up, but every time I looked at 'Red-Head', it struck me as more and more hilarious.
"Damn it, John, I realize I look funny. I didn't ask to be created in your image, but it was you who agreed to get involved in the cloning program."
"In my image? You look nothing like me!" I said, still laughing a little. "I'm drinking your colostrum, and the whole idea seems absurd to me. I don't even know what it is."
"You'd better get used to the idea, because your chances of living are getting lower by the second. You don't have the anti-bodies to handle the biological agent present in the drink you took yesterday." He didn't look as funny, when he was telling me I was going to die.
"Fine," I said, "I'll drink the damn colostrum." I sipped some. It wasn't as bad as at looked. It reminded me a little of unsweetened yogurt. Perhaps it would grow on me; I continued drinking. I wasn't sure what the look on my clone's face was, but it made me uncomfortable. Was I right to trust him? Of course, colostrum couldn't be any worse than whatever it was I drank earlier that caused me to lose my memory.
I studied his expression as I drank the colostrum (whatever that was) and it just weighed increasingly heavily on me. There was just something unsettling about the way he watched me as I forced myself to choke down this strange, thickish liquid and the idea that it had actually come from him... hmmm.. from where on him? I gagged a little as his beady little eyes watched me and his weird protruding lips puckered and relaxed, his tongue protruding and withdrawing. He was really repulsive to watch, and the whole thing was just really unnerving. I pulled the bottle from my lips, starting to feel rather nauseated at the idea that I was drinking some thick liquid that had come from this homely, misshapen troll. I looked from the bottle to this guy who claimed to be my clone. So many unanswered questions…
Why did I lose my memory? Was my name really John? How did the purported cloning facility mess up so tremendously bad? What the hell is colostrum and from where in this guy's body was it coming? The biggest question is, why am I staying here with this freak, with only his word to convince me to drink his colostrum?
I waited for him to go to bed and snuck out the front door. I didn't know where I was going or even where I was. I wasn't sure what I would do. Perhaps I could go to the police and see if anyone had reported me missing. For all I know, I was married with a regular 9 to 5 job and some kids. I couldn't sit around here, though, drinking colostrum based on this guy's word.
It was pitch black and I couldn't see a thing. In the middle of my train of thought, I ran into something hard, tripped over and fell on my face. Whatever it was I tripped over fell on top of me. I scrambled around trying to escape because I knew that, with all the noise, the small-headed guy would certainly wake up and come after me. Suddenly there was a blinding light. I shielded my eyes with my arm. Then I heard an unfamiliar male voice. “What the…? Who the crap are you and what are you doing in my house?!” I was confused. I had no idea where I was. Before I could answer, a nasally female voice broke in. “Charleeee! What’s that man doing in our house?” “Darla, didn’t you just hear me ask the guy that?... why would you ask me why this guy is in our house? Why don’t you ask HIM!” At this point my eyes were just beginning to adjust a little to the light, and from beneath my arm I could see two pairs of slippered feet.. one with really hairy legs. I saw the ugly linoleum floor and the wooden chair I’d apparently tripped over. Just then the door I’d just come through burst open and my ‘clone’ lurched into the kitchen. “Don’t’ worry… he’s my... guest.” “Arnold Prometheus McGhee! Not another one!” The nasally female voice whined. “Arneee! What on earth have you been up to down there?” “Let’s go to bed, Darla… I don’t even want to know.” My eyes had finally adjusted enough so that I got a good look at ‘Charlie and Darla’. Charlie was a big man with a very ruddy complexion. Darla was a diminutive woman with a slight build… from the waist up. As she turned and somewhat reluctantly walked away with Charlie, I couldn’t help but notice that she had an enormous posterior. I also couldn’t help but notice that Charlie had my ‘clone’s’ very ruddy complexion, receding hairline and beady eyes, Darla had his small head (though it didn’t look nearly as bizarre on Darla’s petite frame) and gigantic butt (which looked far less bizarre on a female frame). I knew this guy couldnt be my clone. He was just a weird-looking nerd who apparently lived in his parent’s basement! That was the last thing I remember before waking again on ‘Arnee’s’ couch with a splitting headache. When I tried to get up, I realized that I was duct taped to the couch.
Fortunately, duct tape isn't all that strong and within minutes I was free... stupid “clone”. I wasn't sticking around any longer. I was going straight to the police and pressing charges against this guy for wrongful imprisonment.. or kidnapping or something... and assault... ow.. my head. On my way to the stairs, I tripped over a baseball bat that was lying on the floor.. that must have been what he’d used to knock me out... probably every time… ‘sorry I had to beat you up like that’ my butt! That guy couldn’t beat up my grandmother! Angrily, I strode up the stairs to the kitchen door, but found it barricaded and padlocked. Suddenly I realized something... my memory had returned! That last crack in the head must have jarred my memory! My ‘clone’ was the dorky little guy from the mail room! I’d demoted him months ago after my assistant had caught him peeing in the sink in the executive washroom! That had become the joke around the office afterward. No one had been able to figure out what the ‘P’ in Arnold P. McGhee stood for and after that, we always spelled it ‘Arnold Pee McGhee’ and always called him by his full name, emphasizing the ‘Pee’ … who would have guessed it stood for ‘Prometheus’? That guy was SO fired! I stalked back down the stairs in search of ‘Arnie’, to give him a piece of my mind. I heard a rustling sound coming from behind a door. In my rage, I crushed through and was disturbed and revolted to find Arnold Pee McGhee sitting in a chair, shirtless, with some contraption held to his left breast… yeah.. the guy had BREASTS!! The contraption had what looked like a suction cup connected to a clear bottle, half-filled with what could only be COLOSTRUM!! Holy freakin’ crap!!! This guy had tricked me into drinking his man-boob milk!! This guy was so very freakin fired! I felt nauseated and light-headed. I tried to brace myself against the door-frame before vomiting on the floor and then losing consciousness yet again... dammit.
When I came to, Arnie was there, reassuring me, and encouraging me to drink... MORE MAN-BOOB MILK.
"What the F***!" I screamed.
He laughed hysterically. "I told you I'd one day make you drink the proverbial man-boob milk!" Arnie said. "Then I decided to take things to another level and start taking hormones!"
The humanity. Oh, the humanity. I had drunk the man-boob milk. My "clone" had gotten me to drink the man-boob milk. He said he would, and the son of a b**** succeeded.
"Arnie," I said, "I am not going to fire you. We have a problem. I am thinking very seriously about murdering you right now." Arnie was no longer giggling. "You see, I don't want to murder you. I don't. What you're going to do is never going to tell anyone that I drank your man-boob milk. In return, I will not murder you. Also, you're fired. Also, I'm not kidding about the murder. I will."
With his big butt and small red head, he pathetically started crying again. The end.
Harder than I imagined. I knew if I drank, I would continue drinking. If I continued drinking, I would forget everything that had transpired for the last few hours... at least long enough for the plan to come to fruition. If I didn't, I might go back and undo what I had done. With the latter, I wouldn't live. With the former, I may not be able to live with myself. The pit in my stomach burned, I breathed heavily, holding the glass and staring deeply into it.
ReplyDeleteFaced with so much to consider I looked at the bartender standing there waiting for me. He wore a black hood which shielded his grim sunken skull. Were his eye's should have been a black emptiness stared back. I knew I had to drink the poison to go on with my journey, but willingly drinking it was hard. My hand started to tremble as the glass touched my lips.
ReplyDeleteI had just eaten all six bowls of beer nuts at the bar not to mention that five dollar foot long on the ride from the Underground. It's still amazes me that those people can smuggle everyday supplies and food like Subway sandwiches down there. All recruits are asked to eat a foot long Subway ham and cheese sandwich on the last day of proficiency training. I was damn full and my mouth was caked with a potpourri of stale nuts. I needed to drink something and I knew the bartender was losing patience over my hesitation but now he stood directly in front of me holding up two empty bowls in disgust. He cocked his head and nodded a signal to a shorter bartender who picked up a large burlap sack from behind the bar that read Oh Nuts in thick black type. The assistant bartender began to fill both bowl with a mixture of different size bullets and empty shell casings. I took the hint and I knew it was time to 'Initialize,' I knew it was GO TIME.
ReplyDeleteI put the glass to my lips again, took a deep breath, and tipped my head back. Strange. Nothing. In fact, it tasted a little like ordinary prune juice... Suddenly my body went numb and I started to feel faint. The last thing I remember was falling backward.
ReplyDeleteI awoke with a massive headache and no recollection of what had transpired that day. I had the feeling I didn't want to remember. I was lying on the concrete floor of a dark, cold room. I could hear deep, serious voices, but I wasn't yet conscious enough to make out what they were saying. One of them must have noticed my eyes were open. He got up quickly and stomped toward me.
Hey Loser! he roared. Couldn't you find a better place to sleep than the bathroom floor?!
ReplyDeleteTwo men peered down at me and a female sat at a table with her back turned towards us. One of the men knelt down next to me to help me sit up. A girl's voice came from the table and asked the men to check the bottoms of my feet for the what she called "the password." He said I had it. As the men helped me to my feet I squinted and sighed with pain. The bottoms of my feet hurt like they had been severely sunburned.
ReplyDeleteThe men helped me to the table and sat me down in an empty chair across from the girl. She was young, had a pale face with buzzed red hair and large sunglasses covering her eyes. She was wearing a white collared shirt with bolo tie and funny patch on her right sleeve.
She asked me my name and all I could remember was a bunch of numbers, 481516-23. "I told you this one's legit," said one of the men "I never said he wasn't," replied the girl. "We need to make sure the right guy was 'initialized' back at the bar. Last time we forgot our due diligence we ended up needlessly erasing the memory of a guy with business cards from H&R Block. I hate eliminating accountants or anyone else with a job and a family."
My mind was racing as I tried to focus on what they were saying. "Why can't I remember my name? I have a regular name like Christian or Harry," I said slowly.
The girl explained to me that when I 'initialized' most of my memory was erased. Only things that happened an hour before initialization were left for me to remember. She asked me what the last meal I ate was and I told her I remember eating a ham sandwich. She asked me if I remember a yellow paper tucked away in the wrapper of the sandwich. I remembered the paper and the random number very well. "Welcome to our world 481516-23," said the girl.
As I came to I felt cold underneath a small white tiled floor, this time my head was pounding. I touched the back of my head and felt a crusted scab. I sat up quickly looking for the two men and the red head. As I glanced around I could tell my environment had shifted. It seemed like the bathroom stall of a loud night club as I could hear the pulsating drum and bass coming from the floor above me. The bathroom door opened and I heard a group of girls giggling as they entered. A girl walked right up to my stall and opened the unlocked door. She jumped back cursing as I scrambled to my feet.
ReplyDelete"I'm 481516-23." I said. She backed away as the other girls dragged her by the arm towards the bathroom door. I found it hard to believe that I was just dreaming of the encounter with some kind of underground agents. I began to review the events of the night in my mind; prune juice infused mystery poison at some unknown bar in Queen Anne, woke up on a bathroom floor only to get my head stomped on by some drunk construction worker and now I find myself in the womens bathroom of a derelict night club?
Just then a guy with a small red head and a big butt walked by crying.
ReplyDeleteI followed the couple as they passed by the bathroom trying my hardest to keep my gaze to the ground. The girls butt was immense and I couldn't help but gawk at it. The guy she was with looked over his shoulder and noticed my unflinching stare. I instantly looked away but it was too late. He was closing in on me almost at a run yelling, Take your eyes off you loser! My reflexes were too slow to duck his left hook. It connected close to my right temple knocking me hard against the wall. I fell limp to the floor, trying to break my fall with an outstretched hand. He raised a boot and brought it down with full force to my head.
ReplyDeleteWhen I woke up... again... I was with the man with the large butt, small head and ruddy complexion. Since the first time I saw him, I thought he looked a little familiar. Up close, I felt even more so that I knew him from somewhere. Gradually, I shook off the second beating I had taken in 24 hours and began to become more aware of my environment.
ReplyDelete"Relax," the man said, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Where am I? What's happening to me?"
"Don't worry. It'll all make sense soon enough."
I was laying on a couch with an ice pack on my head. Apparently, I was in his dingy apartment.
"Sorry I had to beat ya' up like that. I couldn't reveal to anyone who I was or more accurately, who we are."
"We?"
"Yeah. You and me. There is so much to explain and so little time."
I wondered how a man with a small red head and a big butt could possibly be in a position to help me and how did he know so much? Could I trust him? In my heart, I felt I could...
maybe it was his voice. Strangely high-pitched and nasaly with what sounded like the slightest hint of an accent that I couldn't place.
ReplyDeleteHe reached out a ruddy, dry hand and I took it, grateful for any help I could get in my confusion.
I tried to pull myself up and nearly pulled the guy over. He offered another hand, which I took. Still he struggled and strained to pull me to my feet despite the fact that I only weigh about 150 lbs. It became clear that I was going to have get up by my own power.
Now on my feet, I could see the man more clearly. He looked as strange as he sounded. His small red head, beady eyes and protruding lips gave the impression that there was something wrong with him.. besides just the microcaphalic, ruddy face and gigantic posterior.
"I'm a clone," he said.
ReplyDelete"What?" I said.
"You keep looking at me as if there's something wrong. The cloning process is flawed. I'm a clone."
"Oh." There was an awkward pause. "What is going on?" I wanted to scream the question.
"Don't worry. You made a decision to work with us. When you took the drink, it started a process. It was the catalyst. It is having unintended side-effects, unfortunately. You need treatment, so the plan can go ahead."
"What do I need to do?"
"Your immune system is not handling the mixture well. You need colostrum, to strengthen your immune system. From a clone. Your clone."
"I have a clone?" I blurted out, my eyes wide.
"It's me, John. I'm your clone."
"My name's John?"
"I'm your clone." I stared at him in total disbelief. I almost started laughing.
"John. If you don't drink the colustrom, you'll die. Trust me. I've got a couple bottles in the fridge. I'll be able to extract more over time. You'll need to drink it every day to get your immune system back to where it needs to be."
"So that's not milk in the fridge, then?"
"It's colustrum that matches the PH balance of your own body. It's the only thing that can save you."
He pulled out one of the bottles and handed it to me.
ReplyDelete'Drink', he said in his strange, high-pitched voice.
I pulled the lid off of the bottle and sniffed. It had a very slight yet familiar aroma. I also noticed that it wasn't quite milk colored. it had a slightly yellowish cast. I swirled the bottle slightly. The liquid had a thicker, almost sticky texture.
'You need to drink the colostrum if you want to live, John. Like I said, your immune system depends on it. It is absolutely necessary...'
that's about where my attention trailed off. I was actually focused more on his 'accent' than on his incessant rambling. I now realized that it was not an accent at all, but what appeared to be a bit of a speech impediment.
'John.. John!!' Said the strange little man with microcephaly, advanced and wide-spread rosacea and what appeared to be a severe case of gigantus gluteus maximus. 'are you even listening to me?!'
'oh, sorry.. I must still be a little groggy' I lied.
'you need to drink the colostrum'
I always had trouble admitting when I didn't know something and I had no idea what 'colostrum' was, but it didn't look very tasty. The idea of drinking thick, yellowish liquid by the bottle did not appeal to me in the least.
Red-head repeated his statement, 'You must drink the colostrum'
The way he said 'colostrum' was kind of funny as I now noticed he also had a slight lisp. I tried not to laugh as I reluctantly pressed the bottle to my lips. Then, just as I was about to take a sip, I mused on the idea that this little dork was supposed to be my clone. The idea suddenly struck me as hilarious and I sputtered colostrum all over 'Red-Head' and doubled over laughing. I laughed so long and hard that it hurt. I made several attempts to straighten up, but every time I looked at 'Red-Head', it struck me as more and more hilarious.
"Damn it, John, I realize I look funny. I didn't ask to be created in your image, but it was you who agreed to get involved in the cloning program."
ReplyDelete"In my image? You look nothing like me!" I said, still laughing a little. "I'm drinking your colostrum, and the whole idea seems absurd to me. I don't even know what it is."
"You'd better get used to the idea, because your chances of living are getting lower by the second. You don't have the anti-bodies to handle the biological agent present in the drink you took yesterday." He didn't look as funny, when he was telling me I was going to die.
"Fine," I said, "I'll drink the damn colostrum." I sipped some. It wasn't as bad as at looked. It reminded me a little of unsweetened yogurt. Perhaps it would grow on me; I continued drinking. I wasn't sure what the look on my clone's face was, but it made me uncomfortable. Was I right to trust him? Of course, colostrum couldn't be any worse than whatever it was I drank earlier that caused me to lose my memory.
I studied his expression as I drank the colostrum (whatever that was) and it just weighed increasingly heavily on me. There was just something unsettling about the way he watched me as I forced myself to choke down this strange, thickish liquid and the idea that it had actually come from him... hmmm.. from where on him? I gagged a little as his beady little eyes watched me and his weird protruding lips puckered and relaxed, his tongue protruding and withdrawing. He was really repulsive to watch, and the whole thing was just really unnerving. I pulled the bottle from my lips, starting to feel rather nauseated at the idea that I was drinking some thick liquid that had come from this homely, misshapen troll.
ReplyDeleteI looked from the bottle to this guy who claimed to be my clone. So many unanswered questions…
Why did I lose my memory? Was my name really John? How did the purported cloning facility mess up so tremendously bad? What the hell is colostrum and from where in this guy's body was it coming? The biggest question is, why am I staying here with this freak, with only his word to convince me to drink his colostrum?
ReplyDeleteI waited for him to go to bed and snuck out the front door. I didn't know where I was going or even where I was. I wasn't sure what I would do. Perhaps I could go to the police and see if anyone had reported me missing. For all I know, I was married with a regular 9 to 5 job and some kids. I couldn't sit around here, though, drinking colostrum based on this guy's word.
It was pitch black and I couldn't see a thing. In the middle of my train of thought, I ran into something hard, tripped over and fell on my face. Whatever it was I tripped over fell on top of me. I scrambled around trying to escape because I knew that, with all the noise, the small-headed guy would certainly wake up and come after me. Suddenly there was a blinding light. I shielded my eyes with my arm. Then I heard an unfamiliar male voice.
ReplyDelete“What the…? Who the crap are you and what are you doing in my house?!”
I was confused. I had no idea where I was. Before I could answer, a nasally female voice broke in. “Charleeee! What’s that man doing in our house?”
“Darla, didn’t you just hear me ask the guy that?... why would you ask me why this guy is in our house? Why don’t you ask HIM!”
At this point my eyes were just beginning to adjust a little to the light, and from beneath my arm I could see two pairs of slippered feet.. one with really hairy legs. I saw the ugly linoleum floor and the wooden chair I’d apparently tripped over. Just then the door I’d just come through burst open and my ‘clone’ lurched into the kitchen.
“Don’t’ worry… he’s my... guest.”
“Arnold Prometheus McGhee! Not another one!” The nasally female voice whined. “Arneee! What on earth have you been up to down there?”
“Let’s go to bed, Darla… I don’t even want to know.”
My eyes had finally adjusted enough so that I got a good look at ‘Charlie and Darla’. Charlie was a big man with a very ruddy complexion. Darla was a diminutive woman with a slight build… from the waist up. As she turned and somewhat reluctantly walked away with Charlie, I couldn’t help but notice that she had an enormous posterior. I also couldn’t help but notice that Charlie had my ‘clone’s’ very ruddy complexion, receding hairline and beady eyes, Darla had his small head (though it didn’t look nearly as bizarre on Darla’s petite frame) and gigantic butt (which looked far less bizarre on a female frame). I knew this guy couldnt be my clone. He was just a weird-looking nerd who apparently lived in his parent’s basement! That was the last thing I remember before waking again on ‘Arnee’s’ couch with a splitting headache. When I tried to get up, I realized that I was duct taped to the couch.
Fortunately, duct tape isn't all that strong and within minutes I was free... stupid “clone”. I wasn't sticking around any longer. I was going straight to the police and pressing charges against this guy for wrongful imprisonment.. or kidnapping or something... and assault... ow.. my head. On my way to the stairs, I tripped over a baseball bat that was lying on the floor.. that must have been what he’d used to knock me out... probably every time… ‘sorry I had to beat you up like that’ my butt! That guy couldn’t beat up my grandmother!
ReplyDeleteAngrily, I strode up the stairs to the kitchen door, but found it barricaded and padlocked. Suddenly I realized something... my memory had returned! That last crack in the head must have jarred my memory! My ‘clone’ was the dorky little guy from the mail room! I’d demoted him months ago after my assistant had caught him peeing in the sink in the executive washroom! That had become the joke around the office afterward. No one had been able to figure out what the ‘P’ in Arnold P. McGhee stood for and after that, we always spelled it ‘Arnold Pee McGhee’ and always called him by his full name, emphasizing the ‘Pee’ … who would have guessed it stood for ‘Prometheus’? That guy was SO fired! I stalked back down the stairs in search of ‘Arnie’, to give him a piece of my mind.
I heard a rustling sound coming from behind a door. In my rage, I crushed through and was disturbed and revolted to find Arnold Pee McGhee sitting in a chair, shirtless, with some contraption held to his left breast… yeah.. the guy had BREASTS!! The contraption had what looked like a suction cup connected to a clear bottle, half-filled with what could only be COLOSTRUM!! Holy freakin’ crap!!! This guy had tricked me into drinking his man-boob milk!! This guy was so very freakin fired! I felt nauseated and light-headed. I tried to brace myself against the door-frame before vomiting on the floor and then losing consciousness yet again... dammit.
When I came to, Arnie was there, reassuring me, and encouraging me to drink... MORE MAN-BOOB MILK.
ReplyDelete"What the F***!" I screamed.
He laughed hysterically. "I told you I'd one day make you drink the proverbial man-boob milk!" Arnie said. "Then I decided to take things to another level and start taking hormones!"
The humanity. Oh, the humanity. I had drunk the man-boob milk. My "clone" had gotten me to drink the man-boob milk. He said he would, and the son of a b**** succeeded.
"Arnie," I said, "I am not going to fire you. We have a problem. I am thinking very seriously about murdering you right now." Arnie was no longer giggling. "You see, I don't want to murder you. I don't. What you're going to do is never going to tell anyone that I drank your man-boob milk. In return, I will not murder you. Also, you're fired. Also, I'm not kidding about the murder. I will."
With his big butt and small red head, he pathetically started crying again. The end.
Wow. Some these stories really get a pretty twisted.
ReplyDelete