I need a clone.

I need a clone that doesn’t sleep or eat and that can self-destruct into glitter when I’m done with it.

I would make my clone slightly dumber than yours truly, possibly tanner, give her the mentality of an olympic athlete and dress her up in a sports bra and spandex workout shorts. I’d devise a force-field around her, approximately four feet in diameter, so she could preform my demands uninterrupted. People, small children, animals, vegetation, Satan’s clipboard-wielding environmentalists and even semi-trucks would bounce off of my clone as if they were jellybeans. Then I would take my EasyTones I bought for myself and strap them onto my clone’s feet. I’d send her out seven days a week, eight hours each day and make her walk all over Greater Boston. After a month of careful examination, I would finally figure out if these freaking EasyTone sneakers do what Reebok claims they do because I do not have the time required to figure this riddle out.

For now, I call “bullcrap!”


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