This is how they get you...

When I pay a parking ticket, I usually start by vacuuming my entire apartment. I clean off my desk thoroughly. I take off all my clothes and step into a warm shower. I spend at least 30 minutes, making sure I emerge squeaky clean and well exfoliated. I put on latex gloves and a clean suit, and finally prepare my correspondence.

The average apartment contains 37,212 human hairs and a plethora of dead skin in the form of dust. This is how they get you. All they need is 0.1 micrograms of genetic material to clone you. One day you are taking care of an unpaid parking ticket completely unaware of the genetic stow-aways you are about to mail, and the next day you are at the grocery store staring at your doppelgänger. You try to act nonchalant, but you are so chalant. You are the epitome of chalant. You duck down the desserted deserted dessert aisle, lose the cart and begin to head toward the exit. Out of the corner of your eye you notice a man in a dark suit talking to his cuff. Who talks to their sleeve? You are so fucked. You briskly walk then run through the automatic doors, noting the transition from A/C to warm humid fresh air. You reach the car in the middle aisle and as you touch the door handle, at that exact moment, a hand touches your shoulder.

"Sacrebleu!" is all you can manage, and you shrink into a puddle of Capri Sun. 12 tiny Dozers from down in Fraggle Rock emerge from a sewer grate and saunter over to your sweet citrusy liquid corpse. They take out tiny plastic yellow pointy straws from their back pockets and drink you.