“Look at this shit!” Frank demanded, holding out a tissue containing several curly black hairs, which he attempted to force upon the nearest three or four people who hadn’t immediately fled the room.“Oh, Frank! That’s so gross!” screamed Gretchen, shielding her face from his onslaught.
“That’s my fucking point exactly!”
“Frank, just calm down.”
“No, I will not calm down, Marty! These broads don’t understand what it’s like in there. Their bathroom is like a fucking spa compared to what we have to endure. I mean, I barely made it in there in time before I painted my slacks brown. And now I have to pinch it off for another twenty seconds while I wipe the rim clean—
“Frank, enough!” Ms. Jensen was Senior VP of marketing and was about the only person Frank would listen to. He quickly trailed off at the sound of her stern commandment.
Frank took the pube-containing tissue and hastily threw it near the wastebasket, missing soundly, before retreating to his cubicle.
That afternoon it was a significantly calmer Frank Anderson who had set up shop in the break room, waiting to inform everyone of his big news.
“What’s up, Frankie?” asked Marty, curious as to what could have drastically changed his demeanor like this.
“Thank you for asking. As you all know, I’ve come to each of you with numerous requests about the unsanitary conditions of the men’s room.”
They all nodded in acknowledgment, Frank continued.
“Well I realize now that blowing up at everybody is not going to accomplish anything and I just want to take this opportunity to apologize to you all.”
Everybody was genuinely shocked to hear such a balanced response coming out of a notorious hothead like Frank so they were very gracious in their assurances that it really wasn’t a big deal and they were all just glad to put it behind them.
“However,” he continued, “The fact remains that the sheer frequency and volume of this problem demands a response, so I have taken it upon myself to submit the genetic material in question to a full battery of mitochondrial DNA profiles.”
“Aw come on, Frank! Is this really that big of a deal that you have to pin the blame on somebody like this?” Jerry, a senior accountant, asked.
“Oh no, you misunderstand me. I’m not profiling the samples in question so I can identify the culprit. I’m extracting the strands necessary to create fully-actualized clones of the culprits!”
Everybody stared in disbelief. Cloning had only become legal within the past few years and it was still a grey area to many people from a moral and ethical standpoint.
“You are a monster, Frank!”
“Zip it, Lucy. Besides, if they grow up to look like you, then you’ve got some ’splainin’ to do!” Frank responded in his best, racist-adjacent Ricky Ricardo accent, of which he was clearly pretty pleased with.
“Frank—“ Marty Began.
“Save your breath. It’s too late to talk me out of it now, it’s done!”
“I don’t think you’ve thought this through, fully.”
Frank turned in anger but quickly softened when he saw that it was Ms. Jensen raising these concerns.
“Well, actually Carla— Excuse me, Ms. Jensen, I have given this very much thought indeed. Since these clones will essentially be my own property to do with as I see fit, I will subject them to all the anger and abuse that I never could to their progenitors!”
At this, the assembled were truly disgusted at the realization of what this petty little man was capable of. They shook their heads and silently filed out of the break room, nauseated at what they had just heard.
“So that’s it. That’s ‘The Story of Me.’ I begged Ms. Barnes not to make me do this assignment, but as she said, “Don’t be lazy, everybody has to do it.’ So, I’m not being lazy. That’s how I and my three brothers were made. I was hatched out of an egg because my dad left his pubes on the rim of a toilet at work and rather than just brush them off, I guess he assumed they must have belonged to someone else and decided to make a big deal about it because he’s an asshole. The kind of asshole who would get a bunch of pubes cloned just to prove a point, then have the universe hand him the ultimate backfire.”
Frank Jr. 2 casually tossed his VR orb down on the teacher’s desk and went back to his seat.