Dear Universe,

1. Stop fucking with me. Seriously. I mean it this time.
2. Thanks for the minion. She rocks. But if you don't stop fucking with us, her other-worldly enthusiasm for pissant cloning projects is going to dry up in a hurry. Which will not rock.
3. I want to do some real experiments. I am a fucking post-doc. I have neither the time nor patience nor shattered self-esteem to do that whole, "well, at least the digest worked, so I'm not a total failure" thing anymore. I need to have this reagent in hand so I can do the motherfucking experiments to write the motherfucking fellowship that will (if I get it) allow me to still be a post-doc for another coupla years, which might (if I'm very lucky) leverage into a real grown-up scientist position. As you can see, there are several more steps in this trajectory in which you could continue to fuck with me in infinitely more creative and original ways, so could we lay off the fucking cloning already?
4. If you don't fancy any of the above, could we maybe negotiate a different pursuit? I'm thinking windfall inheritance from some unknown relative (you and I both know that the known relatives ain't got any cash) - it needn't be much - just enough to settle this mountain of student loan debt, and pick up a nice little grass-thatch shack on a tropical beach somewhere. So whaddya say, Universe? Vector or windfall?