The Wigged Man

Today I'm searching for a man. A man that looks a lot like me, but with a wig. Well,
I am not a man, and he might not be either. I'm a clone of this man. Craig. Aka Wheezy
Waiter. You see, he clones himself. A lot. And his clones do his chores for him. And
then rather than feed and house them, he casts them off into the alligator pit. Which leads
to making new clones. and the cycle continues. I was born... Nay, men are born. I was cloned
just yesterday into this weary world. My first job was to clean the time machine,
which is right next to the cloning room. My second job was to clean the bathroom. As I
was doing so, I heard a sound. A pathetic sound. Like a little girl who lost her Barbie
doll. It was the whimpers of Craig. Who knew the sound of something so petite could come
out of something so huge and gross? It turns out he lost his friend. Craig with
a Wig. I'm told that Craig with a Wig sat in the kitchen. But I never saw him. I assume
he was just another clone who found a wig and somehow won the friendship of Original
Craig. I volunteered to find him. I really don't care. I just wanted to make
myself unique. Useful. Not like the other clones. Perhaps then I could really become
a man. I truly believe I was meant for something greater than gator feces. Maybe I'm lying
to myself. But aren't the best lies the ones the liar actually believes? And so the search
continues. First, I decided to check with the other clones
who got away. The obvious choice was Revenge Clone. A twisted misanthrope hellbent on the
destruction of Wheezy Waiter. Maybe he wanted to break Craig's spirit by kidnapping his
friend. So I asked him. - Craig with a Wig? He doesn't exist.
- What? - Outside of video, I've never seen him. I
don't know anyone who has. Quiet Clone may have seen Craig with a Wig, but he may have
said 'Please pass the figs?' You can never hear what he's saying. And we were at a Nabisco
themed snack party. There were fig newtons everywhere. So that's probably much more likely.
Maybe Craig with a Wig just ran away. - Wouldn't it be too dangerous to risk it?
- What? No! A Triscuit is a square baked whole wheat wafer. Different snack entirely! Though
it is Nabisco. And it is delicious. - I said 'risk it.'
- I can't hear anything anymore. I've been hanging out with Quiet Clone too long. So
do I get my beer now or what? I'm interested to see what it tastes like over there.
- What are you talking about? - You promised me French Riviera Stout. And
that sounds like a creamy, delicious dark beer.
- No, I asked if you knew Craig with a Wig's current living whereabouts.
- Why am I talking to you? I need to get my drink on.
So then I decided to talk to Quiet Clone. Yeah, pretty much what you'd expect.
Next up was Sexy Clone. - Oh yeah, I've heard of him. Hear he's got
some pretty awesome hair. Though it's fake. Mine's real. Touch it. It's real.
- No. - Go on. Touch it.
- Please, it's fine. - Touch it.
- No. - Touch it.
- I don't have to touch it. - Touch my hair.
- No, it's cool. - Caress my hair.
- Alright, fine. - Caress it! Touch it! Yeah. Caress it! Touch
it! Touch it! Yeah. It's pretty great, isn't it?
- Yeah, it's great, but you know it is fake. - What are you talking about? I'm not a mwoash.
- Hmm? Mwoash? - Man With Ostentatious Albeit Sexy Hair.
Mwoash. - I know, but your hair is a clone. Like mine.
- Agh! Oh man, now I have some soul-searching to do. You're a real downer.
What was I going to do? Nobody knew where Craig with a Wig was. Apparently they had
never even seen him. Something wasn't right. I decided to review old footage of Craig with
a Wig. Wow. Much like me, he was a real downer. If
only I could talk to him... Find out what makes him tick. Tock. Tick... tock... tick...
The time machine.