Dawn comes as a series of small events. The sky lightens from black to deep blue. The stars start too disappear one by one as the ambient light increases. Soon the sky becomes lighter still and objects around you start to appear in shadowy black and white. Seeing in color will come much later. Gradually the sky turns a a translucent pale blue and if there are any clouds floating overhead they will be painted in the most delicate shades of orange and yellow and pinks, with undersides of purple and green. Colors so breath-taking that the pre-Raphaelite artists of the last century spent a life-time trying to capture it. And then the sun peeks over the horizon, a ball of incandescent white that drives away all those delicate colors, exposing the world for what it is. Which is not always something one wants to see.
Gary was still sitting on his knees at sun-rise, maybe half-sleeping or just too deep into mourning. As the sun beat into his eyes he stirred, looked around him.
The Cocoon was gone. He's noticed that late last night, but it also hadn't returned. Texas was still dead, still a pile of ash and bones in a seared patch of grass next to him. That hadn't been some horrible dream. His body hurt in a hundred different places. His eyes were swollen and he could barely see out of them. But Dr. Venture, Hank and Dean were alive and that's what counted. Oh, course Dr. Venture would have conniptions if he didn't repair the door to the Panic Room and to the outside of Venture complex. Work, work, work. There was always something that had to be done. No rest for the wicked, or for henchmen...
But first-
Gary forced himself to his feet, stiffened muscles protesting every movement, and staggered off the to the X-1's hanger. Among the stores there he found a large tarp and a shovel. He spread out the tarp next to the remains of Texas and gently picked up his bones and placed them in the center of the tarp. Then with the shovel he started skimming off the ash, along with some of the grass and topsoil and laid it with the bones. He felt that Texas deserved to be buried decently and that meant with as much of the ashes from his involuntary cremation as he could recover.
He worked at his task, trying not to think, trying not to remember who he was burying. Thinking was not good for anything.
"Oh, gross," a girl's voice spoke behind him. Gary started in surprise and in consternation. He hadn't heard her walk up. What if she had been one of the Monarch's minions? Such inattention could be fatal!
He looked back at Triana standing ten feet away, her hand over her mouth, more a reflex of sadness than to prevent hurling, but he didn't say anything. He wasn't in a conversational frame of mind.
"I heard him scream last night," she said. "I mean in my head, like I always do when he's around. Only this was different, louder, more intense. Painful. And then it stopped. Everything stopped. There was this giant vacuum where the cries of the undead souls that made up his body had been. I knew he had died. I wanted to see what happened but I remember what you said about staying out of any fight with The Monarch, so I stayed in the house. I wanted to talk about it with my father but he sleep right through the whole thing. Then this morning I saw you working here so I thought it was ok to come out. What happened?"
Gary ignored her for a moment, hoping she would go away. But she wasn't going to. "He was hit by a signal-flare meant for me." he explained.
Triana watched Gary work for a moment, thinking that over. "Is that normally what happens?" she asked finally .
"No." he replied then decided that wasn't an adequate answer. "It should have been gains of chemicals easily brushed off but he went up like he'd been soaked in kerosene."
Triana watched him shovel some sooty pieces of machinery, circuit boards, some hinges. "It must have been something Dr. Venture did when he revived him." she suggested.
"Yeah."
"So what are you going to do with - with his - remains?" she faltered.
"Bury him," Gary answered testily, as if she had asked something really stupid.
She ignored his tone. "Where?"
"There's a spot near the cave where we found him that seems like a nice place. Shady, not too swampy."
"Is there some way I can help?"
"Don't you have a bus or something to catch?" The words were out out of his mouth before he realized how rude they were. He flushed in embarrassment.
"There's always another bus. Or Dad could drive me. Or I could even ask the Outrider to get me. I..." Triana fell silent, not sure what she wanted to say or how to say it.
"I know I wasn't the best of friends to your friend..." she resumed.
"You wanted him dead."
"But not like this. And ... I mean, he was causing me pain whenever he was near, but that's not the point," she paused and took a deep breath. "He was your friend. He meant a lot to you. I should have tried harder to respect that. I know I can't make it up to him, but I would at least like to do something for you. To make up for it. Because..."
"I'd rather do this alone," Gary interrupted. "I don't need your help."
"Oh." She felt the sting of a rebuke. Gary had finished scooping up the ashes. Laying the shovel aside he started folding up the tarp before rolling it up into a bundle. She opened her mouth to say something but seeing Gary's total concentration on making a shroud for his friend, closed her mouth and started to walk away.
Gary was tying up the tarp with some sting he'd brought along but he saw her turn away out of the corner of his eye. Guilt stuck him. He'd been harsher to the girl than he really meant. And since she was moving back to her mothers, this would be the last time he's see her in a while. He didn't want her leaving thinking ill of him.
"Triana..." he called to her. The girl stopped, turned around to face him. Her face was set. She waited for him to continue.
"I - I've always appreciated your friendship. It's been a pleasure knowing you. I've treasured that. This ... this is something I have to do alone. Any other time I would have welcome your help but today..." He trailed off, not sure how to continue, watching her face to see how she was taking his apology. He wasn't expecting her to turn ashen.
"Gary," she began, "you're not planning to do anything - rash?"
"Huh?"
"You know..."
Gary didn't. He considered what things he could be doing that might be considered 'rash.' He was just burying his dead friend. He wanted some time alone to thing about things, to think about all the friends who had died before him. "You think I'm going to kill myself?" it suddenly dawned on him what Triana meant.
"Well, you were talking in the past tense just now, like you were saying good-by."
"No-o-o! I'm not planning anything like that. Sheesh! Henchmen don't have time to get all weepy and melancholy. I've got a ton of stuff to do today. Dr. Venture is going to give me hell for not fixing the doors from the time Kim attacked. It's my fault that they got hurt last night. But before getting reamed by him I just want some alone time."
"To do that which you say you don't do?" Triana teased.
"We all need to be alone with our thoughts some times."
"But not to do anything ... stupid?"
"No. Of course not."
Triana watched Gary closing, looking for any sign that he was lying or being disingenuous.
"Ok," she decided. "I'd better get packed if I want to meet that bus. But if there is anything I can do for you..."
"I can get along," Gary interrupted. Then realized that he was being churlish again. "Ah, text when you can. I'll look forward to it." He flashed her a brief smile.
"Yeah. Sure." And she finally walked away.
Gary hefted the bundle of his friend's remains, picked up the shovel and headed off toward the woods at the back of the Venture compound. He passed the small graveyard where Jonas Venture, Sr. was supposed to be buried, but was not. He wondered for a moment where where all the previous Venture brothers had been buried? There were, what, fourteen previous pairs, according to the briefing he had from Brock Sampson. Brock had obviously loved the boys but seemed uncomfortable talking about any of the previous clones. Gary suspected that there was something Brock didn't want to admit but he had never thought about what it could be. As long as he'd never have to dig a grave for any of the Ventures he would be all right.
He walked past the fake cemetery and into the woods. He picked his way carefully through the trees and found the cave after only getting lost once. He laid his burden down and looked around until he found the exact location he wanted.
He started digging.
The grave he dug was three feet wide and four feet long and four feet deep. There was no need to dig a full six feet down. It wasn't like these seared bones were going to attract wild animals. And since all that was left of Texas/Venturestein were a pile of bones it didn't need to be very long either.
He laid the bones on the bottom reverently then slowly began shovelling the soil back in. He felt a twinge, a strong ache, as the dirt covered over the canvas roll. "Bye-good old friend," he breathed, then finished filling in the grave.
He'd seen a boulder, maybe eighteen inches across, as he'd come in. He went back and started rolling the stone back. He placed it at the head of the grave. Later he'd come back with an engraving tool and carve a proper legend on it.
He stood back to inspect his work. He liked it. He hoped Texas liked it as well. He had always assumed there was an afterlife.
Gary sat down on the stone that would be Texas' head stone and tried to remember all that he could about the former henchman. After a time he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. Had Triana followed him after all?
He looked to his left and saw a green, leafy frond resting on his shoulder. A glance to his right revealed a small tree standing next to him. It hadn't been there a minute before. "He was a friend," a voice sounded. It was kind of tinny, artificial, like that Hawkings guy, or some old 8-bit Atari game. He couldn't tell where the voice was coming from.
"Now you show up," he said.
"Of course." the voice cheerfully answered. "It's the first principle of comedy. The object of desire can never be found until the desire to find the object has ceased."
"You mean you've been hiding from me because I was looking for you?"
"It was fun playing cat-and-mouse."
"For you, maybe." Gary looked at the talking tree. It was small, only about 9 feet tall, with a trunk that was green, not brown, like a normal tree. The trunk rose smoothly from the ground for about five feet before sprouting into a series of branches that ended in balls of tightly curled green leaves. It really did looked like a head of broccoli.
"You looked after Texas when he first arrived here?" Gary asked.
"Yes. He was a lost soul. A naif. It was my duty as civilized plant to take care of him. I found him this cave where he could sleep out of the weather. I found him food. I talked with him because you animals, I've found, need to talk to each other. I liked him a lot. He laughed at my jokes."
"Jokes?"
"I love comedy. I have been a student of the art form for years. 'Take my wife...Please,' 'I met a man who said he hadn't had a bit in three days... so I bit him!' It is the greatest invention of your kind. It is something missing from my people." The leaves of the tree rustled for a moment, then he continued. "My people are very logical, you see. As plants we don't have nervous systems, lymph glands, adrenaline and so on."
"So you don't have any emotions, like Mr. Spock."
"Ah, a fan of the Sci-Fi you are?" The creatures voice unexpectedly took on the tone of Yoda. Then continued in its regular, mechanical tone. "But, you misunderstand the situation. The character of Mr. Spock had plenty of emotions, he just repressed all of them, which is why his kind went crazy when they went into rut. The mating instincts overwhelmed his determination to remain in control. Our kind simple have no emotions."
"No fear, anger, love, happiness, ambition?"
"No guilt since we always do the logical thing - as we see it, of course. Sometimes we realize later on that there was some other course that might have had better outcomes but since we always act in the most logical manner at the time we do not feel reprobation because we didn't do something differently."
"Must be nice," Gary said. "So what are you doing here?"
"Do you mean on earth, or in the Venture's woods, or standing here talking to you? Or do you mean all three? That's is why I felt in love you animals. Your language is so imprecise, so full of double meanings, confusion. As plants, as logical beings our language says exactly what we mean, no more, no less. It seems like a good thing but one wonders - I wondered - whether our language adequately expressed the uncertainties in life? Wouldn't life be more fun if you had to guess at the meaning of what someone says rather than knowing precisely what they meant?"
"No, I don't see it as fun at all. Too much of life gets messed up by misunderstandings."
"Ah, a conformist. My people were not impressed with my discovery of comedy either. They found me annoying and asked - told - me to leave. So I came here to the Venture lands where no one would think twice about a walking tree."
Gary thought about that for a moment. "I can see where you'd get that idea. I've often thought that the Ventures were at the center of weird. So where do you come from, somehow I'm guessing not Earth?"
"It's Mars. I'm a Martian."
"If Mars is inhabited how's come none of the space probes we sent there have ever seen you?"
"Have you ever been to the surface of Mars? No, of course not. How silly of me. It's cold and dry and with no atmosphere to speak of. We have to move into vast underground bunkers millions of years ago because the surface was just too harsh.
"Are you one of those Secret Martians Hank and Dean were talking about?" Gary accused. "The ones that almost started an interplanetary war when Dean said 'Hello' into a radio?"
"Yes, guilty."
"Not very logical."
"Actually very logical, if misguided. Because you animals are guided by a bunch of hormonal tidal waves you are very unstable, very illogical. Obviously to the logical mind that makes you inferior - "
"Hey," Gary interjected.
"To the logical mind, I said. In their brilliant, crystalline logic my people decided that animals were inferior creations and therefore there was no point to every talking to them. Also, in my my language 'hello' is a terrible insult."
"How can a logical race have insults?"
The leaves of the tree shook for a moment, filling the air with a delicate tinkling like a forest of wind-chimes in a light breeze. "Exactly! That is why I love studying you animals. Your lives are filled with contradictions. You don't deny contradictions, your comedy relishes them. Just because our species lacks emotions and thinks only logically doesn't mean that we all think from the same premises. Or all have the same ideas. 'Hello' in my language means something like 'animal lover.' And of course that is meant literally."
So by saying 'hello' we were accusing you Martians of having carnal knowledge with an animal?"
"You understand the situation."
"So how did we avoid World War III?"
"I intervened," the tree said without hesitation or any note of pride or accomplishment.
"I translated what the human had mean into Martian, explained the illogic of thinking he knew what he was saying. It was touch and go for a while."
"Why did you bother?"
"I didn't want anti-matter bombs being dropped on me."
"Who does. So what you going to do now?" Gary asked.
"I should ask that of you. As for me nothing really has changed. In the future I shall hide from you as I have in the past. I shall listen in to your radio programs and television shows. It would be nice to see what it is you animals see from the television transmissions but since my people don't have eyes it would hardly be the same."
"How do you see?"
"Each leaf is a photo receptor. Not only does it provide energy for us but by analyzing the light falling on each leaf we have a sense of what is around us. It's nothing like your focused imaging, however that works. But I've filled the years studying your kind from audio transmissions, some adroit spying and my thoughts. Unlike you animals we plants can live for years with just our own thoughts. But what about you. I've seen how attentive you have been with our mutual friend, how hard you've tried to awaken his damaged mind. What will you do now?"
Gary sighed and thought long about that. "No much, I guess. Keep on doing the things I was doing before finding Texas. As a henchman there really isn't much else to do.
"And this will make you happy."
"What does a 'logical' species know about happiness, that's an emotion."
"Happiness is achieving what you desire. We plant people desire clear thinking, so solving a complex problem brings much satisfaction. Maybe not the emotional flood of you animals but a satisfaction still. Have you no desires?"
"I'd like to find Kim, of course."
"That was the female who tried to kill you?"
"You saw that?"
"I'm very adroit at spying. But I'm confused why she wanted to kill you. I thought you two were in rut?"
"She got it into here head that she wants to be a super-villain. And for her first Arch she wanted to kill Hank Venture."
"I can't help thinking that even for animals this is really messed up."
"You haven't heard the half of it," Gary assured him. "Kim and I had been dating... I guess your people might say we had been 'helloing' a lot..."
The tree started shaking violently and even slid a couple feet back on the slope it was standing on, though Gary couldn't see how it had moved. Its feet or roots or whatever were hidden inside it's trunk. "Oh, 'hello' indeed. That is a good one. I love you already!"
Gary smiled. He wasn't in the habit of cracking jokes, wasn't any good at telling the few jokes he could remember but the word had so suggested itself. He and Kim had never really gone out on a date, it had been pure hard sex from the first time they'd met.
"So, anyway," he continued when the tree stopped rustling, "I didn't know she was trying to kill Hank and she didn't know that I was Hank's bodyguard. Not until that night..." Gary's voice trailed away. He didn't know how to go on.
"So you had to hurt the one you loved."
"Yeah. I miss her so much. I'd died if I could see her again. But I know if I do she'll still be trying to kill Hank, and I'll have to stop her."
"I see no easy solution to that, though I will give it much thought in the years ahead. It will be a masterpiece thesis for me. A grand consideration."
"Yeah, good luck with that. I've also thought about finding out who killed 24."
"This is a friend of your?" the tree asked.
"Oh, yeah. He was my best friend in the Cocoon. We were inseperable."
"You were lovers?"
"No! Nothing like that. We were as straight as an arrow. We just hung out together, constantly. He was killed in an explosion a couple years ago. I see his ghost from time to time, having conversations with him like I am with you know. But no one seems to know who set off the explosion or why. I'd like to get to the bottom of that. Maybe it would easy 24's spirit."
"O-o-o, a mystery. I love a mystery! So how did it haqppen? Do you have a list of suspects?" The tree seemed to shiver in anticipation. It struck Gary that the tree was acting very excited for someone-thing- who was supposed to have no emotions. It made him wonder just how unemotional these Martians really were.
"We had captured Dr. Venture's robot. I mean The Monarch had. But I was working for him at the time, so I guess 'we' is right. Anyway we interrogated the robot to get some information out of him. We had promised to get him go if he told us this information. So we were, but The Monarch has installed a bomb inside the robot's chest cavity. The idea was to let the robot reunite with the Ventures and blow them all up together. The detonator switch was installed in the throne room in the Cocoon and Dr. MrsThe Monarch was in charge of it while the Monarch, 24 and me drove the robot back to the Venture Compound in the Monarchmobile. But when we got here the OSI was already here attacking the Ventures.
"I remember that. I was here. There were a lot of people shooting at each other. And the Dr. Venture unleashed his army of clones. I was impressed. I didn't think he had advanced that far in science. Go on."
"Well, the Monarch ordered his minions into the fray. He left the car to organize things. And to try out some enhancements to his costume. That didn't go well, so Dr. Mrs. The Monarch left the Cocoon to directly take charge of the situation. I'd left the car but 24 hadn't. Then the car blow up, killing 24 and, I though, destorying the robot but apparently the robot's head survived and Dr. Venture, instead of rebuilding HELPR's body, just mounted it on his giant walking spider device."
"I've see that." the tree said.
"Well, that's pretty much it. Someone had to have pressed the detonation switch but no one seems to know who or why. I made up a list of suspects and started investigating but never got anywhere."
"Who was on your list? Who was your number one suspect?"
"I was at the top of the list."
"Why would you want to kill your own friend."
"That's just it, I wouldn't. But I felt that if I had been a better friend 24 would be alive today. We'd been arguing again so he was in a snit. But also his seatbelt had Ihad been there maybe I could have released the belt."
"Or died with him in the blast."
"Yeah." The way Gary said that implied that he had thought about that before.
"So you blame yourself for surviving, for being alive when he isn't." the tree said.
Gary didn't answer.
"This is, of course, faulty thinking. You didn't know the bomb was going to explode so there was no reason for you to remain in the car or to make more of an effort to help your friend to escape. As far as you knew he was as safe inside the car as anywhere, perhaps safer since he was out in the midst of the conflict."
"Still I feel guilty that he's dead and I'm alive. I wonder sometimes whether I really see his ghost or if it's just a projection of my guilt."
"There is no way to resolve that question through logic," the tree said. "Who was next on your list?"
"The Ventures. I even went so far as to kidnap the boy and try to torture them. It turns out the the Chinese Water Torture isn't much of a form of torture. And of course why would they want to destroy their robot. They treated it like part of their family.I don't know I thought they might be responsible. I guess I was just hating on them because The Monarch hates them so much.
"Who else was on your list?"
The Monarch insisted thatIadd him to the list. I guess he just hated to be left out of things but while he planned to destroy the robot he didn't really hate 24 or me that much. We were his oldest and most loyal henchmen."
"Oldest in the sense that you survived all the combats that he killed off the other henchmen," the tree said. "Oldest in the sense that you must have been shirking your duty to survive all the time."
"You think the Monarch was trying to kill us?" Gary was surprised at the thought. "But he continued to rely on me for everything. Wouldn't he have tried again if he wanted me dead?"
"Perhaps. Who else was on your list?"
"Next was the Murderous Moppets."
"Who are they?"
"They're a pair of midgets, or maybe dwarves, I forget how that works. They worked for Dr. Mrs. The Monarch back when she was Lady Au Pair and doing villany on her own."
"I think I have seen them. So their species are call midgets."
"Species? No they're as human as you or - well, as I am. They just have a gladular condtion that stunted their growth. The guys are about 40 but look like they're four or five. At least when they remember to shave."
"Why do you think they wanted to kill 24?"
"Oh, they've had it in for him, and for me, for some time. 24 talked back to them when they were trying to take over the Cocoon and they never forgave him for that."
"So they had plenty of motive," the tree said. "I don't recall seeing them during the fight out here on the Venture grounds so they must have been in your mobile nursery."
"The Cocoon? Yeah. So they could have had access to the detonator when Dr. Mrs. The Monarch leave to help her husband. But you know, I never placed them high on my list. 'Cause they were knife people. They liked to show people the knife they're holding before sticking in you. They'd stabbed 24 once before, and I'm sure that if they were determined to do him in they'd use a knife. So even if they knew they could blew 24 up I doubt that they would."
"Well argued. Very logical. So who else was on your list?" the tree asked.
Gary shrugged. "No one actually. I just couldn't think of anyone else."
"Oh, goodie. Let's think about this. There were four people in the car. You, your friend, your Monarch and the robot. There's no one who has any reason to destroy the robot in and of itself. Likewise while you have some enemies, none of them seem like the kind of people who would go out of their way to destroy you. So that leaves your Monarch. Does he have enemies?"
"Lots."
"Such as?"
"There's Captain Sunshine. The Monarch killed one of his skidekicks, Wonder Boy. He replaces them every few years anyway so I don't know how serously Captain Sunshine considers the matter. And there's Seargent Hatred. We were stealing him blind for years for parts for the Cocoon. But supposedly he was aslready enacting a revenge on the Monarch when he took over at Dr. Venture's nemesis. Then there's Phantom Limb. He's pissed because The Monarch took Dr. Girlfriend away from him. Well, she's Dr. Mrs. The Monarch these days. And Queen Atheria back when she was with Phantom Limb."
"I don't think I know him," the tree said.
"You couldn't mistake him if you've ever seen him. His arms and legs are invisible. All you see is a walking torso. His arms and legs are still there, and he can kill a man wth an electric shock from his hands.I've heard a lot of theories about what happened to his arms and legs but I don't know which one to believe."
"No, I'm not familiar with him. These characters, Dr. Girlfriend, Dr. Mrs the Monarch and Queen Atheria are these separate people?"
"No. It's the one woman. She's just had a bunch of names over the years. Currently she goes by Dr. mrs. The Monarch."
"It's that a bit long for a name?" the tree asked.
"It could be worse, I suppose."
"So why weren't any of these people on your list of who killed 24?"
"Oh, well. Captain Sunshine has natural superpowers. If he wanted to injure The Monarch he could have at any time. He didn't need to use a bomb. While Sgt. Hatred and Phantom Limb would need to know that there was a bomb in play, would need to know where the detonator was, and be able to get into the Cocoon to press the button. They're both pretty obvious characters. Phantom Limb with his invisible arms and Sgt hantred is this big, fat guy. Either one would be spotted in a second."
"So," the tree wondered, "who ever did it would have had to have been someone already in the Cocoon, someone capable of passing as one of the Monarch's minions."
"I hadn't thought about that, but you're right."
"Aside from yourself, is there anyone who could pass as a minion who had it in for the Monarch?"
"Back then the Monarch was my main man..." Gary bowed his head in thought. A minion who hated the Monarch? There didn't seem to be any. Most of them ended up dead at some point in their short lives. He and 24 had, for a time, actually joked about how they were immortal, or at least invulernable, because they had been sent out on all these missions and had come back alive. Just as they had joked that Hank and Dean were unkillable because they had killed them once and the boys had come back. But that was before he knew about their father's clone farm.
Someone else had come back from the dead. Or seemed to have, though in truth they had avoided dying in the first place. Scott Hall. Henchman #1. Gary began explaining to the tree.
"So he was sent out on a mission with you and 24 and didn't come back because he ran into Brock Sampson?"
"And apparently he got away from Sampson still alive, which is pretty rare. So all he would have to do was walk into the Cocoon. He already had the uniform. he'd just need to change the number on the uniform and keep in the background. Biding his time until the right opportunity came along."
"To kill you or the Monarch?" the tree wondered.
"Maybe he was hoping to get all three of us. Maybe because that plan didn't work out he went crazy. His next scheme was to kidnap all sorts of sidekicks and henchmen and force them to fight each other to the death. That was a pretty ugly scene. A lot of good people died before we were able to stage a revolt and escape. The last anyone saw of Scott Hall he was running away from a pack of super-villains. I suppose if he could eacape getting killed by Brock Sampson he could escape from them as well. But he's laid low since."
"Of course. Scott Hall, ol' Hencham #1 and one-time villain 'Zero' had to have done it. No one else had means motive or opportunity. Thanks!" He looked for the tree but there was no one beside him. "Oh, great. I'm going psychotic again!" Then he noticed that the dirt around him had been disturbed. It was slight but clear that thousands of tiny feet had shuffled along the ground. "Ah, the Wrascally Wabbit once again fades from sight."
Gary got up, dusted off his pants and picked up his shovel. "Well, Texas," he said. "Loooks like you've got a friend to look after all."
He was nearing the Residence when he found Dr. Venture charging towards him. The scientist looked angrier than usual. he was clutching a sheave of paper in his hand, waving them at Gary as soon as he said the big bodyguard.
"Alpaca, you ninny! You swiped a pile of alpaca hair. How could you be to stupid!"
"What are you talking about?" Gary demanded.
"Those hairs your stoled. The ones that were supposed to be my father's Well, they're not. They're not my father's they're not even human. According this this report they are most likely from an alpaca llama. How could you mistake alpaca fur for human hair?"
Gary gathered up the front the Dr. Venture's uniform and easily lifted the small man into the air. "Listen! I already buried a friend this mornng, Don't make me bury as fake scientist as well!' he dropped Dr. Venture as easily as he picked him up. "You were there when we identified your father's exhibit as that hair dressing museum. I went back and got the hair from that exhibit and no where else. If it's not your father's hair, then the museum must have lost it years ago and faked it with this llama hair. I took what you told me to take. If it's not what you wanted, life's unfair like that."
"But now I'll never know if I'm a clone or not."
"If it's good enough for your sons it's good enough for you."
"But it's not good eough!"
"Live with it."