[ * Put on your thinking caps, YPRketeers! We're holding a
C O N T E S T   C O N T E S T ! * ]

[ * There are new LETTERs. * ]

[ * Head on over to (parenthetical note) to read "My Dinner with George and George" by Geoff Wolinetz. That's a whole lot of words that start with "geo" in one sentance.* ]

[ * If you're looking for
MIDDLE EAST GAWKER,
then click right where it says "Middle East Gawker" underscored and tinted aqua. * ]

[ * Enjoy. * ]

8   S I M P L E   R U L E S F O R   D A T I N G   M Y M U T A T E D   C L O N E D   O F F S P R I N G BY T.J. COATES My mutated cloned offspring is just like me, except for the extra digits. So be nice and gentle. And wear gloves. And bring gloves for it. Make sure to knit a couple of extra fingers in the gloves, or, at least, cut some holes in the sides. There's nothing more insulting than presenting a glove that does not fit. Have my genetic misfire back by sunrise. My clone's skin reacts very, very unpredictably upon exposure to ultraviolet light. Sometimes, it makes the creature all crazy in the head, prone to fits of screaming and thrashing about wildly. Other times, its skin begins smoldering and smoking, resulting in a truly foul odor. One time, the clone melted into a puddle. We had to scoop it up into a bucket and freeze it overnight in the Frigidaire until it was solid again. So, please, avoid sunlight. Speak in hushed tones when directly addressing my mutated heap of biogenetic material. Its twelve ears enable it to pick up even the faintest sound, like that of a housefly's footsteps on the bricks outside the abandoned warehouse it calls home, or the whispers of its creators as they plot to destroy their unholy creation, thinking themselves safe and unheard in their remote, offshore laboratory. My science experiment gone horribly wrong cannot digest any foods that starts with the letter G. This includes grapes, guacamole, gazpacho, garbanzo beans and green Jell-O. My blob likes it when you tickle behind its numerous ears, but you must wear gloves, as its flesh is extremely adhesive, and likely to keep your hand stuck to it for a longer period of time than you'd like to be tickling a blob. If you happen to remove your rubber gloves and accidentally come into physical contact with my poorly spliced replicant, wash your hands immediately and thoroughly with Ajax brand cleanser. Avoid touching your eyes, nose, or mouth for several hours. If a rash develops, do not waste time consulting a doctor. Your remaining time is limited, and better spent with loved ones than in a doctor's waiting room. Do not touch its hump; do not stare at its hump; do not make reference to its hump, even in what you may believe to be a complimentary fashion. If the date leads to heavy petting and beyond, my botched experiment enjoys dirty talk, but nothing too raunchy. Keep it playful, never lewd. Whisper sweet nothings in its ears, tickle its thorax, suggest naughty things you might like to do to/with it, but do not go beyond the bounds of good taste. If too excited or aroused, the creature may suck out your bone marrow through either of its tongues. If, at the end of the date, you say you're going to call my glob, you better damn well call. If not, you'll have it and me to answer to. I'm very overprotective of my glob. And if you think I'm kidding, try me. Because I have an itchy trigger finger and really poor aim. MORE BRILLIANT DAILY PIECES RIGHT THIS WAY...