Over the Indigenous Peoples Day weekend, aside from the host of things I was told by individuals in the know, unlike myself, one told me that because I’ve submitted a sample of my Deoxyribonucleic acid to an ancestry site, ‘they’ve’ made a clone of me who exists someplace apart from the child I helped create many years ago. Contemplating my cloned-self, let's refer to him as MM (mini-me) for clarification. I shudder to think of him having to endure the same life I endured as a child if we’re so alike in every aspect. WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS POSSIBLE 'CLONOGRAPHICAL' RECORD OF MY DNA. Herein, we explore what may or may not occur . He may be discovered outside a single car garage by a kindly unmarried woman 21-years older than himself who identifies herself to him as his oldest sister. She is ecstatic. The 'sister's' father adopts the baby as his own despite having so many other mouths to feed. Boy children are r