Clone makes better lasagna
TULSA, OK – In a shocking discovery that has rocked the quiet suburb of Maple Ridge, housewife Margaret Chen stumbled upon the most bizarre marital mix-up in modern history when she realized her husband of three years is actually a perfect genetic duplicate—while the original Raymond Chen remains trapped in what may be the longest traffic jam on record.
The earth-shattering revelation came to light last Tuesday evening when Margaret noticed her husband’s uncanny improvement in culinary skills, particularly his suddenly masterful lasagna preparation. “Ray could barely boil water when we got married,” Margaret told this reporter, her hands trembling as she clutched a steaming plate of the clone’s legendary twelve-layer lasagna. “Now he’s making Gordon Ramsay look like an amateur. That’s when I knew something was terribly wrong—or terribly right, depending on how you look at it.”
According to Margaret’s account, the switch occurred approximately eighteen months ago during what she initially believed was Raymond’s unusually long commute home from his job at Consolidated Insurance. What she didn’t realize was that the man who walked through their door that fateful evening was Clone-Raymond, a genetically identical replacement created by what underground sources suggest is a shadowy government cloning program gone awry.
“The original Raymond is still out there, stuck in gridlock on Interstate 44,” reveals Dr. Cornelius Blackwood, a former government scientist who claims intimate knowledge of classified duplication experiments. “The cloning facility experienced a catastrophic breach that day, releasing dozens of genetic duplicates into the population while their originals became trapped in temporal traffic loops. It’s a nightmare scenario we’ve been trying to cover up for months.”
The evidence supporting Margaret’s incredible claim continues to mount. Clone-Raymond not only excels at Italian cuisine but has also developed an inexplicable talent for ballroom dancing, speaks fluent Portuguese despite never traveling abroad, and has grown two inches taller—all improvements Margaret initially attributed to a positive life phase.
Most disturbing of all, Margaret reports that Clone-Raymond possesses memories that don’t align with their shared history. “He keeps talking about our honeymoon in Bali,” she explained, wringing her dishrag nervously. “We went to Branson, Missouri. When I correct him, he just smiles and says traffic must have affected his memory.”
Government officials have remained suspiciously silent about the alleged cloning program, but leaked documents obtained by this publication suggest Operation Mirror Image has been replacing ordinary citizens with enhanced duplicates for purposes unknown. The clones reportedly possess superior domestic skills, improved physical attributes, and an unsettling obsession with Italian cooking—all traits designed to make them more appealing partners than their originals.
Meanwhile, the fate of the original Raymond Chen grows more mysterious by the day. Satellite imagery allegedly shows thousands of vehicles trapped in an endless loop of highway construction on a stretch of Interstate 44 that officially doesn’t exist on any state transportation map. Witnesses report seeing the same cars circling the phantom roadway for months, their drivers unable to exit or communicate with the outside world.
“I tried calling Ray’s cell phone,” Margaret admits, “and sometimes I can hear him in the background when Clone-Ray answers. He’s always complaining about the traffic and asking when dinner will be ready. It’s heartbreaking, but honestly, Clone-Ray’s lasagna is so much better that I’m conflicted about which husband I actually want back.”
Local authorities refuse to investigate, claiming no missing person report has been filed since Clone-Raymond continues to fulfill all of Original-Raymond’s social obligations—arguably better than the original ever did. The clone even received a promotion at Consolidated Insurance, where coworkers praise his newfound confidence and mysterious ability to predict actuarial tables with supernatural accuracy.
As this story develops, one thing remains certain: the line between reality and genetic manipulation has become dangerously blurred, leaving families across America wondering whether their loved ones are who they claim to be—and whether they should care, as long as dinner is served on time.
The characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is unintentional and purely coincidental.
