(standing, from left – Clone #46 Delano, #20 Vitoadie, #48 Magnus, #23 Bobtail, #40 Junior, #14 Kevincible, seated from left #18 Georange, Stevie, #2 Jackwagon, floor #5 Dantopia)
Everyone thinks it must be so cool, having a bunch of clones. That’s what they always tell me. You’ve got this big pack of friends, you can play crazy tricks on girlfriends and neighbors, and you can test drive different hair lengths and styles without messing up your own head. Also (the way it was described to me early on) you’ve got a huge supply of spare organs, an enormous wardrobe, and multiple doppelgangers means high unlikelihood of assassination. It’s been a weird life.
The clinical story has been recounted by the press and biographers hundreds if not thousands of times, but here it is right from Patient X. I’m Stevie and I’ve got nineteen (remaining) clones. Continue reading
The following is our first attempt in short form biography here at K.U., to later be used to prove non-fiction crafting ability, secure employment for the author, and then lord it over lesser biographers who couldn’t do either of the previous.
The Brownstone homestead in Sandusky
On a balmy day in May with the clocks all striking fourteen, the toddler J. Flagler Brownstone took his first step, off the family porch in Sandusky, Ohio, and broke his leg in two places. This wouldn’t heal properly, due to the lackluster medical attention of his live-in besotted uncle Manfred Poxx, and would ultimately give Brownstone his trademark limp. It would also allow him to wield a sword cane with great dexterity from his childhood on, a skill that would come in particularly handy when he had to kill his uncle many years later. Continue reading
Filed under humor, Writing