“The Fine Print”, by Michael Schrader

SEND IN THE CLONES

(Written 22 July 1998. Published in the Neighborhood Journal. Posted 06 July 2009.)

I think it is high time to come clean and tell you a little secret about myself. There are more than one of me. You see, there are several clones of myself that have been running around Cabot the past couple of years stirring things up and raising some, well, you know.

Back many years ago, when I was finishing my graduate studies in Tennessee, my schedule prevented me from sleeping. Sure I'd cat nap every now and then, but I'd never really sleep. Of course, as I spent all of my time, day and night, in one of those dark mysterious engineering buildings where they do all kinds of strange and creepy things, there really was not a place to sleep.

Two years of sleep depravation has a way of making you, well, not so sharp. It was on one of those sleepless nights, that, in a desperate attempt to ward off sleep, I wandered into the deep, dark recesses of Estabrook Hall, a building that to this day I believe predated the white man in Tennessee. It was in the bowels of Estabrook that an accident happened, one that would change my life. Being rather clumsy from drowsiness, I knocked over something. From that spill, evolving before my eyes, were many mes. Yes, clones. Not just your ordinary average clone, however. Clones of differing ages and temperaments.

Since I didn't want to make the janitor mad at me (after all, I did make a really big mess), I decided to send them to a place that I knew I would be working at years in the future--Cabot. And not a week goes by that I do not hear about their exploits.

One of my clones is a wheeler-dealer type, who likes to cut back-room deals to intentionally thwart the goodness that is Cabot city government. I was surprised to see him referred to in a recent memo from a high ranking city official to city staff. This clone, of course, looks just like me, so it is easy to confuse the two of us, and apparently he has been involved in some deep shenanigans that occurred long before I rolled into town. Of course, reading the memo, I wonder if the memo's writer suspected that he is not me, as he never refer to him by name, only as "the former public works director." Of course, many would assume that the memo refers to me, as I am the "former public works director", but, given the chronological inconsistencies, I must give the writer the benefit of the doubt that he has enough intelligence to know that since I personally could not have been involved, that to level such accusations is, well, rather slanderous and defamatory, and that I could sue the tar out of him.

A second clone is about eight years younger than I am. Like the first clone, I also sent this clone to Cabot. Little did I know what kind of trouble this Don Juan would get into. Apparently, he became infatuated with a young lady classmate of his who now works for the city, and is a rival to her husband for her hand and her heart. Like his clone sibling, he has also caused me some heartache as he has been confused for me. Of course, a logical person would conclude that he could not be me, obviously, because I am eight years older than he and was a working stiff before he was even in high school. And of course, let's not forget that I personally was not in the same place as he was when he was doing his stuff, so obviously it was him, not I.

As I have many more clones running around Cabot, it will be interesting to find out what kind of havoc they have wrought. Have my clones been suitors to all of the female employees at City Hall? Let's just not limit it to City Hall; how about all the women in Cabot? Did one of my clones cause the traffic signals on Main Street to malfunction, thereby thrusting the good people of Cabot into the evil throes of that dread, gridlock? Are my clones responsible for flooding, pestilence, drought, whatever?

The one thing about rumors is that if you want to believe them, you will. Period. It doesn't matter if logically they are impossible. If it means that you have to concoct the most ridiculous tall tale to give the rumor any ounce of believability, then that must be done. Yes, even clones.

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