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From: kelly clyde [mailto:kelleegirl@gmail.com ]
Sent: Thursday, 04 September 2012 11:59 PM
To: all [address book]
Subject: Fleshy

This isn’t going to make any sense to you unless I tell you everything, right from the start. Bear with me. And don’t panic, no matter what you read. I need solutions now, helpful ideas, lateral thinking, whatever. Not rescue squads or police cars or whatever. Reasoned response, not knee jerk reactions.

Bear with me. And please read all the way to the end.

This is what really happened.

* * *

“You always said you wanted a pet,” said Matt.

“A pet,” I said, eyeing the interloper on my bargain basement Persian rug. “A kitten, maybe. A hamster. Not a genetically modified lump of your DNA.”

“Well, we can’t get rid of it now,” he said with a smirk. “It’s my own flesh and blood. Flesh, anyway.”

The mound of pinkish skin and fat currently residing on my carpet gave something of a bounce, and a shimmy. Light played on it as if it were a particularly meaty thigh.

“Go on,” said Matt. “Touch it. You know you want to.”

I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less, but I still found myself reaching out towards it. My fingers encountered warmth and... flesh. When I shacked up with a genetic scientist, I expected to be invited to some very strange parties, but I never thought I would end up with a lump of bio-engineered flesh on the carpet. “What’s it for?”

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