A Snap
of the Clones
of the Clones
CONTENT ALERT: Naughty no-no word ahead. Mr. Durrett pledges to wash his keyboard out with soap.
Those clones of mine drive me nuts.
All I've heard for weeks from Lester and Connie is "Let's go to Glamour Snapz! We want to go to Glamour Snapz! Take us to get our pictures taken, Twithead."
"I don't want to go to Glamour Snapz,"
"We don't have any pictures of ourselves, whined Connie. "We want to see what we look like."
"I've got boxes full of photographs," I said. "Help yourself."
"Those are pictures of you, not us," deduced Lester.
"Look, mes," I said, "you are my real-time clones. We are exact duplicates."
"Oh? And how is your vaginal canal today?" inquired Connie.
"I don't know! I don't know how that happened!" I barked in exasperation. "The doctors say you are my feminine side. Personally, I think a lady fly got into the Petri dish with me."
"Oh? So, now we're flies? You're not going to bring up our table manners or the hands licking again, are you?"
"Why don't you flit over to the corner, Connie, for a Time Out."
"Buzz off, old me!"
"You've got a vaginal canal? I didn't get a vaginal canal," said Lester, feeling left out, or left in. I'm not sure which.
"No," compassionate Connie replied. "You're a dick, just like him."
"We're detectives?"
"Lester," I said, "I'll explain everything to you when you're older."
"What, older?" yelped Lester. "All of us are 82."
"No, I'm middle-aged, a young specimen, virile, statuesque, nearly a symphony in adolescent musculature--"
"Ohhh, brother," said Connie.
"I'm not your brother. I'm you and Lester, but even though we look identical and our DNA is the same, you two are only eight years in existence. You're still in the third grade. I'll discuss the birds and the bees when you're up to it."
"Birds and bees are detectives?"
"Ewwww, I don't want my kids to look like you," Connie said, flinging her sugar cube at my cheek.
"Thank you," I said. "You forgot something."
"Ewwww!" Connie hastily inserted to complete her comment.
"That's better," I said.
"So," Lester said, "what kind of specimens are Connie and me?"
"DON'T ANSWER THAT!" requested Connie.
"Let's go to Glamour Snapz! We want to go to Glamour Snapz! Take us to get our pictures taken, Twithead," said Lester.
"Let's go to Glamour Snapz! We want to go to Glamour Snapz! Take us to get our pictures taken, Twithead," said Connie.
I should've named you two Copy and Paste," I said, jingling the car keys. "Let's go to Glamour Snapz. We want to go to Glamour Snapz...."
If you can't beat 'em, shoot 'em -- with a camera, that is. Twithead ought to have the proofs back by tomorrow.
"What's a vaginal canal?" asked Lester.
To Be Continued...
"Are vaginal canals detectives?"
Next: Glamour Snapz: The Mike Durrett Shoot
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