"Yeah, sure, but there's something you should--" you begin.
She snatches the jar from you--
"Thanks! Take over register one!" Mary calls out, heading for the rest rooms. You watch as she disappears into the Women's room.
"--know," you finish.
'This outta be good!' you think, smirking, as you slip behind the register, already with a long line of customers waiting for you to open.
You log on, and quickly find yourself swamped-- with the telephone ringing almost as often as the register. You all but forget about Mary until you feel a vice like grip on your arm. Jumping, you turn.
A pair of young men are standing there-- both about thirty years old, looking like twins. One seems to be wearing just a trench coat, and the other is wearing a blue skirt, lighter blue top, and a name tag which reads...
"MARY?!" you exclaim, at first shocked, and then laughing so hard your sides start to hurt.
"What is this?!" s/he demands, voice somewhere in between a tenor and a baritone. Hearing hir voice only makes you laugh harder, with tears streaming down your face you struggle to get yourself under control enough to answer.
"Th-- it said," you begin, gasping for air, gradually becoming aware that the line of customers is staring at you and both "Mary"s. "I'd have thought you would have read the label. I guess you didn't!"
For some reason your statement does not seem to improve her mood.
"Young man! Young men, I'd like to make a purchase!" an older woman demands, waving a handful of notebooks, staples, and other assorted junk at you. Several other customers echo her statement.
"What did it say on the label?!" demands Mary, ignoring the customers, but releasing her grip on your arm. You rub it, thinking she probably left marks. You return to scanning the current customer's purchases.
"It said it was a 'men's only' product, and could have side effects if used wrong," you inform her, shrugging. "I think that they are supposed to be getting in a shipment for women soon, though."
"And why are there two of me and only one of you?" she continues.
You pause.
"That, I can't explain," you reply slowly, remembering that your age was ejaculated along with your semen, and the whole "clone" thing was tied up with the fate of your semen. "Unless there's something about you I don't know about."