If there was a catastrophe and we all got two of each of everyone here: two Legba's, two Haus's, two Olulabelles and everyone. On a big boat!!!11!!!11!!
I don't think I would have sex with myself, so that would be the end of my species. Not to mention that I most probably can't get pregnant, being a man and all that.
Sounds like a plan... apart from the bit about being stuck on a boat with another one of me. I'm sure we'd fight terribly. (I'm certainly terrible at fighting, that's for sure).
Okay, enough of the cloning already! Or else everyone gets swabbed, the swabs get a first class seat on the Ark and the everyone gets tossed of the side. Except for the team of mad, evangelical scientists who think they work for God™ but will be disposed of after Project B - Romancing the Barbelith, gets well under way.
No time to build a boat. And clones are just silly. Who here is going to rep the human/barb race properly. Not me.. I wanna go down with this stinking farty ship.
To be honest, in real life, I think I'd try to hitch a ride by hanging onto one of the polar bears. We could become friends and have adventures and stuff. "Stoatie And The Bear". I think it could work. And maybe we could have a speacial crossover episode where we met up with Greg Evigan's fan club cruise. Oh, it'd be the fabbest. I'm welling up right now just thinking about it.
On the boat looking over the body.. got him with the 12 gauge shotty.. if he hadn't treated me bad...he wouldn't died, now I gotta push him over the side, splash, I make my dash, it's all about cash.
Legba comes a knocking with his cane, will nearly drive you insane.
I remain unconvinced that putting doubles of everyone, arguably the last hope for the future of the Barbelith race, aboard a single wooden vessel is actually a good idea.
I can see the Greenland Posse scuttling the ark as we reach the mid-Atlantic...
...now a giant hot-air balloon, that's where it's at, baby.
Yo, I got mad clones like Mirror Mirror,
With my lyrical ghost stories to scare ya, scare ya,
On the Arc with my crew, cold sippin' that brew,
Just Barbelith clones, not moose or caribou
