(ITEM: Dr. Cloner's Genetic Engineering Home Cloning Kit was recently put out on the market. The kit includes an electrophoresis apparatus to separate genes, a magnifier to see the genetic pieces, solutions to nourish the altered organisms and an incubator. Biologists are divided on whether or not the kit may be dangerous...)
The living room looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Dad was sitting in his easy chair, reading the evening paper and smoking his pipe. Mom was sitting on the sofa, knitting a sweater for Aunt Gertie. The only thing missing was a fireplace, which had been replaced with a television set. (It is a little known fact in the art world, but Rockwell didn't like to paint television sets because he could never get the faint blue colour of their glow exactly right.)
Upstairs, in Joey's room, the scene was more reminiscent of a Gahan Wilson cartoon. Retorts and Bunsen burners were crowded on the floor of the bedroom. Other, more complicated pieces of scientific equipment were strewn about. At the centre of it all sat Joey, who was watching a little ball of fur, which he himself had made out of some skin from the family cat, flop around. He was entranced.
After a few seconds, the thing started shedding its fur. What emerged was a big lizard with deep blue eyes and a body like a pocket dictionary. As he watched the thing, it occurred to Joey (who was, after all, a fairly conscientious son) that he should tell his parents about his creation. Joey raced downstairs.
"Mom! Dad! Come see what I made!" he urgently shouted.
Mom and Dad looked at each other. "Hon," Dad started to say, "do you think...umm..." Mom gave him a withering look. "No, dear," Mom firmly insisted. "Can't you see that I'm in the middle of a very delicate stitch? You go." With a sigh, Dad slowly got out of his chair and accompanied Joey up the stairs.
By the time they got to his room, Joey's creature had turned into a daschund with the head of George Burns. "...and whenever they told me to go in," it was saying, "I went in. Worked like a charm." Then, it started singing "If I Don't Get to Tuscaloosa By Morning, Momma's Gonna Be Sad," swaying gently to the rhythm.
Dad too the pipe out of his mouth in amazement. "Did you make this all by yourself?" he marveled. Joey nodded. Dad returned the pipe to his mouth and asked, in a more serious tone, "What is it?"
"It's a mutt!" Joey answered, proudly. "Can I keep it?"
Dad thought a moment, watching the thing turn purple with pink polka dots. Before the head could even say "Goodnight, Gracie," it mutated into a rare black rose. "No," dad finally responded, "I don't think your mother would approve of keeping genetically mutated creatures in the house. In fact, I think it would be a good idea if we didn't let her see this thing at all. What do you say, Sport?"
"Aww, dad," Joey protested. Still, Dad hadn't said he had to get rid of the thing, so Joey didn't protest too strongly.
"You better clean this place up," Dad told Joey. "It'll be time for bed, soon."
Joey agreed, and Dad returned to the living room. "What did Joey want?" Mom asked. "Oh, you know," Dad replied. "He made something with his new toy, and he wanted to show it off." After a few seconds, Mom continued: "Oh. You mean, like Leggo?" Dad had to think for a moment. "No...not exactly. Still, it's nothing to worry about, dear. Nothing at all." This last statement vaguely disturbed Mom, but she soon lost herself in her knitting.
Five minutes later, a loud crash accompanied by the tinkling of glass came from upstairs. Mom and dad rushed up to see what had happened. They found Joey by the window, standing amid broken glass, shouting: "Come back! Please, come back!"
"Joey," Dad calmly asked, "what's going on here?"
"Oh, Dad," Joey despaired, "it turned into a huge penguin that thought it was the dual assessment tax plan, and jumped through the window yelling, 'I can fly! I can fly! But, it fell to the ground. Then...then it ran off, flapping its wings wildly. Do you think we'll ever see it again?"
"I don't know, son," Dad grimly stated. "I just don't know."
After a brief pause, Joey asked, "Dad, what's a dual assessment tax plan, anyway?"
Before Dad could answer, Mom started reading from the box she had found on Joey's floor. "Dr. Cloner's Genetic Engineering - dear, where did Joey get this?"
Dad guiltily looked around. "What's that, hon?" Mom showed him the box. "Oh, that. Don't you remember, dear? We agreed that Joey was growing up, and that we should give him more intellectually stimulating toys to play with? I gave him that for Christmas..."
"No, I do not remember that," Mom angrily said. "Not at all. We cannot allow Joey to play with this! Don't you realize that there are some things that 12 year-olds were never meant to know!"
Dad shrugged.
Mom picked up the box and took it to the door. "I'm going to put this someplace safe," she told Joey, "and you aren't to play with it until you have at least two college degrees. Do you understand?"
Joey said that he did, and Mom left. Dad followed her, but, before he was gone, he turned and winked at Joey. Joey smiled as he snuggled into bed; Dad had told him that everything would turn out right.
