Message to My Clone

As I look upon you, o’ little clone of mine, lying asleep on your wooden pallet, with the sun shining through the bars of your window onto your face, I have so many different emotions.  

First of all, I want to thank you for the kidney. As you know, one of my kidneys got ruined from something called alcohol-related necrosis, whatever that is.  I can really notice the difference between having two kidneys and having  just one. You probably can too.  Hope your stitches have healed.

I’m sorry I haven’t visited you more often, but I have been busy with my lawsuit against the Department of Clone Sales, because you did not come out as well as I was led to believe. I hope we can spend more time together.  Maybe we can go fishing.  But if we do, you must wear hard plastic goggles, to protect your eyes.  I wouldn’t want anything to happen to them.  How is your eyesight?  Good?  Mine gets worse and worse.  How’s your heart, by the way?  Still running clean and smooth?  Ahh, so clean.

I know you got a scholarship to some fancy college, little clone, but I’m afraid you can’t go.  You see, college students often drink and smoke, which can damage organs.  Also, they study a lot, which can put ideas and facts into your brain that most people don’t want.  And I know I told you that you could marry and have children, but I am probably going to need your prostate.

I want to ask you so many things.  Do your hands itch?  Don’t worry, that’s normal, at least for us.  Do you often have nightmares where a faceless monster is trying to push in the door and get you?  Welcome to the club.

You probably have questions for me.  What do I do?  I live in the Taj Mahal, with my girlfriend, that Russian tennis star.  I live off the money from my Nobel Prizes.  Also, I have disability from the refinery. 

You come from good genes, o’ little clone.  In my life I have been compared to Isaac Newton, and not just because I am often hit in the head by apples.  I have also been compared to General Dwight Eisenhower, and not just because I like to ride around in a jeep standing up.   

Do I have any other clones?  None that I know of!  Ha!  Seriously, that’s one reason why I came here today.  The Department of Clone Sales has granted me a new clone.  That’s right, we’re going to be a father!  You should see him.  He’s already grown so big from the high doses of hormones and super-proteins.  But his organs won’t be “ripe” for at least a few years.

What will happen to you after that?  I’m afraid I can’t afford two clones, so I will have to ship you off to the Clone Work Farm.  You will be pulling a plow — not by yourself, of course, but with two or three other clones.  Pick some strong friends!

Meanwhile, please don’t try to escape, little clone.  The guards will shoot you in the legs, because they don’t want to hurt the good stuff.  And besides, what if I need a knee replacement?

Well, little clone, I hear the gurney coming down the hall. Soon I will be under anesthesia, just as you are now.  And when we wake up, both of us will be a little different.