Written by Big M
Foodge was stood at his station behind the coffee machine. He was in a pensive mood (No he wasn’t, he was just plain embarrassed). Sorry, (Thanks Mark) he was just plain embarrassed after having to piss in the sluice behind the bar. Of course, Foodge’s idea if micturating in the sluice involved piss going everywhere, especially with an over-distended bladder. “Thanks, Father O’Way, for cleaning up yesterday.”
“No worries, I suppose you mentally lapsed back to those days of micturating through the ship’s railing.” FOW, as he liked to be called, was struggling with a leaking tap. It seemed like a cellarman’s job. “O’Hoo, are you there?”
“Yeah.” Came a muffled voice from the cellar.
“Leaking tap on Bitter, can you have a look?”
“Yep.” O’Hoo was trying to keep a low profile in view of the mad rooting in the store room incident.
“What ship?” Foodge had some vague idea about being on a ship but somehow his brain was stopping him from remembering. “Not the Wasted Seamen?”
“Where did you hear that name?” It was FOW’s turn to be pensive, or was it wary?
“It went down last week with three passengers missing, three Australian blokes.”
FOW realised that he had said too much. “Perhaps I heard it on the news. How about a pint?” FOW pushed a canoe in Foodge’s direction.
Merv realised that he had slept in. He tried to get up but his balls ached and his arm seemed to be trapped. He was spooning the most delightful creature he’d ever seen. Like a fitness model she had delts like boulders, traps like the hind leg of an ox and muscular striations that Mr Schwarzenegger would die for. He gently nuzzled her ear. “Mon Cheri.”
Foodge heard the back door slam. Looking around he was face to face with Merv’s ex, Janet. Where is he?” She spluttered.
“Who would that be?” Foodge answered.
“Who dya think!”
FOW stepped in. “Now there’s no need to get excited dear.” In his most ministerial voice.
“Shuddup Padre. Where is he?”
FOW and O’Hoo avoided looking at her. Foodge couldn’t help himself and nervously glanced up at the ceiling.
“Still in bed, the lazy great oaf.” Janet sprinted up the Memorial Kristina Kennealy staircase.
Foodge tried to ring Merv, suddenly realising that Merv didn’t own a mobile. It was too late; the sound of thumping on Merv’s bedroom door resonated through the building.
Janet burst through the door. “Get up you lazy…what, I’ve been gone five days and you’re already playing hide the salami…whoozat?”
Mervette awkwardly tried to cover all of her bits. “Merv, you told me you were well and truly divorced. Five days? Separated five days. That’s barely a holiday!”
“So, who’s this, Merv, yer twin sister?” Janet was shaking with anger.
“No, wait…why…we’re nothing alike.” Now Merv was discombobulated.
“She looks like you with a sex change.” Granny, Foodge, FOW and O’Hoo all nodded in agreement. Gordon only knows what they were all doing in there.
Mervette spoke up. “I think I can explain it. Merv, did you ever donate tissue for cloning experiments?”
“Well, Advanced Hair paid me a thousand bucks for some hair follicles to clone for baldy headed blokes, but that was over thirty years ago.”
“What do you think happened to that tissue?”
“I assumed they made hair out of it!”
“Well, they did, but they also made me.”
“Hang on, if they made a human, why didn’t they publish, or sell the technology to make human organs and medical treatments.” Big M interjected. He’d been sleeping in the bar since the last episode.
“Shut up, Big M.” Yelled Mark. How he got into the story, no one knows. “Let ‘em tell the story.
“You’re female, you can’t be a clone!” Merv’s head hurt.
“They developed a technique to convert the cells into female cells by substituting X for Y, because women are less likely to become bald. They left some cells dividing and they became me. I am your female clone!”
“So you’ve been having an affair with yourself. I’ve heard of dedicated Onanists, but you absolutely take the cake” Janet seemed to make sense. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go and fuck yourself?”