The tests returned, and they proved definitive.
Yes, as I had long suspected, I was a genetic duplicate created by a secret government project in the late nineteen seventies.
DNA had been taken from Groucho Marx before his death and, after a decade of research, I was created using it.
It explains a lot. I mean, I’ve always been a quirky fellow, and I love to laugh.
But I can’t help think that it robs me of a certain something, like my existence is somehow cheapened by this knowledge.
I suppose it’s true what they say…
…tears of a clone.