Short Fiction: Clone Barbecue
“‘You are cordially invited to eat me.’ Well, this is certainly an evocative invitation, Carl.” Charlene tipped her glittering invite into the crystal bowl just inside the door, and it vanished in a puff of smoke.
“Well, I’m all for truth in advertising,” Carl said, and laughed musically, his chest plumage fluffing through the navel-deep vee in his dress.
Charlene held an elegant seven-fingered hand to her diamond-crusted bosom and asked, “Is that new?”
“Mmm hmm. Just had my vocal cords turned into vocal ‘chords’.”
“How utterly stunning.” She handed her spun platinum wrap to the tuxedoed clone of Carl standing obediently by the door. “I should look into that for myself.”
“Oh, you can’t,” Carl said. “I had the surgeon’s memory erased. It’s so hard to stay unique, especially with bitch friends like mine.”
They shared a pointed chuckle.
She laced her arm through his, gently ruffling the iridescent feathers on his bare arm, and asked, “So, might I assume that this invitation is to be taken at face value?”
He led her into the opulent dining room, the train of his vidsilk dress trailing behind them as it silently played Siamese twin porn. “Yes, my dear. I thought I’d fricassee up a few of my clones and share them with my close, personal friends.”
“I see you’ve brought out the small table,” she said, running her pinkie3 along the polished mahogany surface. “Only three chairs?”
“I didn’t feel like inviting anyone who wouldn’t appreciate it. Champagne?” He waved another mute clone butler over, and the clone held out a tray of champagne flutes.
“Thank you!” Charlene delicately held all three pinkies out as she took a dainty sip. “So, fricassee?”
“Well, barbecue, really. We slaughtered two babies and a teenager this morning, and I thought barbecue would be best for such tender meat. We’ve been marinating the teenager all day. My chef says the babies’ meat is perfect as it is.”
“You beast!” Charlene swatted at him with her free hand. “You should have told me it would be a barbecue. I’d have worn something more appropriate.” She gestured down at her translucent white caftan. Her swirling red skin tints glimmered and winked through the sheer fabric.
“Well then, you’ll just need to eat in the nude,” Carl said with a feathered leer.
“Oh, you don’t fool me. I know you only have eyes for yourself.” She cast her arm in the direction of the nearest tan-skinned, dark-haired clone and asked, “What I don’t understand is why you never had them reupholstered to match you?”
Carl wrinkled his nose, his plumage crinkling into waves. “Oh please. I need to be the prettiest.” The doorbell chimed, and Carl groaned and said, “Would one of me please get that?”
The clone closest to the door turned to leave.
From the hallway, they heard a voice call, “Carl? Dearie? Your toy here won’t let me in.”
“You invited Tony?” Charlene gasped. “But he has no style! He’s still wearing the same face he was born with!”
“Yes, but he’ll eat anything.” Carl and Charlene ducked back into the entry hall and saw Tony and a strange woman standing together at the door, a clone blocking their way. The woman gave a shy, bewildered wave. Everything about her was maddeningly brown, all the way down to her boring, store-bought clothes and off-the-rack face.
Tony waved them over. “Carl, my boy. Can you please tell me what the problem is here? Your mute butler won’t explain it to me.” The fiber optics on his jacket spelled out unspeakably rude and violent thoughts about the clone in question.
Carl rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say you could bring guests.”
“Well, I assumed this was a sex party and I didn’t want to spend all night fending off your cloned mitts, so I brought something of my own to bang.” He squeezed his date tighter than seemed comfortable.
“Oh fine. Let them in,” Carl said. The clone stepped aside. “It’s not a sex party. It’s a meal.”
“Oh!” Tony’s face split into a wide grin. “Even better. Everyone, this is Rebecca. Rebecca, this is Carl and Charlene.”
Rebecca hesitantly held her hand out and said, “A meal? But the invitation–”
Charlene took the proffered hand and gave it a dainty shake. “He’s barbecuing up a few of his clones.”
“Clones?” The woman paled and looked at the silent man currently standing aside to let them pass. “Is he a clone?”
“All the boys in this house are clones of me,” Carl said. “They’re clean copies of my original form. I like to keep them around as a reminder of how far I’ve come.” Carl’s iridescent chest feathers fluffed proudly.
“And as playthings,” Tony said. “And now meals? You dog! I just wish I’d thought of it first.”
Carl laughed, chords echoing off the obsidian walls.
Rebecca’s gaze darted between the clone and Carl. “But…is this legal?”
“Of course!” Carl said. “The laws are clear. You can clone yourself all you want for therapeutic purposes so long as you don’t give your clones fully functioning brains.”
Rebecca looked at the clone beside her in clear disbelief. “This isn’t therapeutic.”
“Sure it is! They give great massages to keep my stress levels down, and keep the house nice and clean so I won’t catch any nasty germs.”
“But…eating them?”
Carl flung his arms out theatrically. “Well, without food, I’ll die! What could be more therapeutic than that?”
Tony chuckled and gave his nervous date another squeeze. “Someday, the law’s going to catch up to people like you. But until then, keep inviting me to these parties!”
Carl clapped his hands together and said, “Well, now that everybody’s here, shall we dine? I’ll have the cook toss the meat on the grill now.” He fingered a button on his jeweled bracelet. “There.”
Rebecca’s eyes went wide, and she pried herself from Tony’s embrace. “Are you insane?”
Tony patted her on the arm. “Now, now, these clones don’t even have the brains that God gave cows.”
“But it’s cannibalism!”
Charlene ran her seven fingers through Carl’s head plumage. “Carl dear hasn’t met a taboo yet that he hasn’t wanted to break, has he?”
Carl emitted another musical laugh.
Rebecca pointed a shaking finger at Carl. “Oh, that is not natural. Nothing about this place is. I mean, why feathers? And you–seven fingers? Diamonds sticking out of your face and chest? And are those really your eyes?”
Charlene’s eyes flashed, literally. “No dear, but they’re much prettier.”
“I don’t see what you’re complaining about,” Tony said. “You certainly haven’t complained about my enhancements.”
Rebecca stepped away from him and looked him up and down in horror. “What enhancements?”
Tony chuckled and grabbed at his crotch. “You certainly didn’t think I was born ribbed for your pleasure, did you?”
“Oh God,” Rebecca moaned. “I had no– Look, I want no part in this. What you’re doing is wrong.”
Carl glared at Tony and snapped, “This is why I always specify ‘and guest’ on my invites when it’s appropriate to drag along clueless people.” He turned back to Rebecca and said, “Look, darling, if you’re not hungry, why don’t you go upstairs and play with my boys? There’s half a dozen of them chained to the bed. This one will show you up.” He waved the nearest tuxedoed clone over.
“Chained?” She started to back towards the door. “What kind of monster are you?”
Carl stepped forward, his train dragging behind him, and said, “Trust me darling, they love it up there. They may be brain-dead, pleasure giving drones, but they’re happy brain-dead, pleasure giving drones. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. They are me, after all!”
“But…you’re willing to eat yourself.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“Oh honey, go upstairs and play,” Charlene said. “Those boys have an oral fixation like you wouldn’t believe.”
Rebecca flushed.
“Go on, they’ll be so happy to have a guest,” Carl said. “Keep the poor boys company.”
“Well…” She looked up the staircase. “Just to keep them company.”
Carl patted her on the arm. “You’ll make them very happy.”
Rebecca nodded, seemingly in a daze, and let herself be led away by the clone butler.
“I’m terribly sorry about that,” Tony said. “I should have realized your invitation was literal.”
“Oh, she’ll be no trouble now that the boys have her,” Carl said. “In a few minutes, she’ll be so preoccupied that she won’t even remember her own name, never mind what’s on the menu. Come on, let’s dig in. I can’t wait to see how I taste!”
The three of them settled around the tiny dining room table. “Now, where could the food be?” Carl looked around the unusually empty room. “I swear, I’m going to have to paddle someone. There’s supposed to be at least one butler in the room with me at all times.”
A breathtaking moan wafted down from the upstairs bedroom.
“Oh good,” Tony said. “I was worried she wouldn’t actually go through with it. Still, she’s a spitfire in the bed, so I’m not particularly surprised. Insatiable!”
“Is that what you see in her?” Charlene asked. “Because she seems so dreadfully plain.”
“Nary an enhancement in sight,” Carl said, wrinkling his nose.
“I know! It’s fascinating!” Tony said. “It’s been so long since I’ve slept with a woman with all her original factory parts, especially one who can keep up with me. The date rape complaints were really becoming a nuisance.”
Charlene rolled her eyes and ran her fingers across her bejeweled chest.
Another moan, higher, louder.
“Oh, she’s quite close now,” Tony said. “She’s really quite deafening at times. Her cries go right through the walls. The complaints we get from her neighbors!”
The moans turned to screams.
Charlene crossed her arms over her breasts. “Does she usually do that?”
“No, this is new.”
Abruptly, the screams cut off.
“And more than a bit creepy,” Carl said. “Is she toying with us?”
“I suppose she could be,” Tony said. “I haven’t really bothered getting to know her.”
“No, of course not. Why would you?”
“Where are those butlers?” Charlene asked. “I’m famished! I came here for a meal, and by God, I’m not leaving until I eat you.”
Six clones walked through the door, each holding a covered plate.
“Finally!” Tony said, then sniffed at the air. “Odd, I don’t smell barbecue.”
The clones put the platters down on the table, lifted the lids, and each picked up the steak knife lying within. Three more clones walked in from the hallway, dragging the bloody bodies of Rebecca and the chef behind them.
Carl let out a faint musical whistle. “Well, it looks like the gang’s all here.”
Charlene glared across the table at him. “Quite the prank, Carl. Quite the prank. Brava. You can stop now.”
Carl gently shook his head. “It’s not a prank, my dear. Oh, how I wish it were.”
One clone handed Carl a slip of paper.
“What does it say?” Charlene asked.
“It’s a printout of the legal decision that states that therapeutic clones are not subject to prosecution if they commit a crime.”
“And how is it that your supposedly brain-dead clones can read?”
“Well, I needed the butlers to be able to tell the difference between a bottle of Bolli and a bottle of Taittinger and that really was a mistake, wasn’t it?” He sighed and sat down heavily.
Charlene rested her elbows on the table and plunked her chin in her hands. “Well, this was a hell of a party, Carl.”
“One for the record books,” Tony added.
Carl looked at the ring of knife-wielding clones. “Indeed.”
And the clones fell upon them.
Several hours later, the general consensus was that barbecued Carl was, indeed, a taste to die for.
END
Jennifer Pelland lives just outside Boston, sharing her home with an Andy and three cats. She’s been a published short fiction author since 2002, with stories appearing in such venues as Strange Horizons, Abyss and Apex, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Tales of the Unanticipated, and, of course, Apex Digest. She’s also completed two science fiction novels that she’s currently shopping around to agents and editors. Heartbroken that Hollywood likes their women skinny and straight-toothed, Jennifer turned to radio theater, appearing in The Fantastic Fate of Frederick Farnsworth the Fifth (link: http://www.haven.org/~mdm/FantasticFate), and the Post Meridian Radio Players’ version of Chicken Heart (link: http://www.pmrp.org/bin/audio/drafts/chickenheart/ch-drafts.htm). Her web site at http://www.jenniferpelland.com contains links to all her online fiction, plus if you look hard enough, pictures of the aforementioned cats.
Buy Unwelcome Bodies by Jennifer Pelland from Apex Publications.
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