I was the victim of a billion to one transplat accident. When I came out of the transmitter after commuting to work one day, 2 extra copies of my original body rather than only the usual one were reassembled at the receiving end. In other words I became triplets with each person having the same memories and all. Nobody was around so I decided not to report it to the transplat company. Until now I was an ordinary guy who faithfully hands over his paycheck to the old girl every payday. Don't get me wrong, now. I'm a happily married man but I do like having a little spending money for myself and a night out with the boys every now and then. So the three of us made a deal. While one of us went to work, another one would be home and the third out on the town. We took turns, share and share alike. Then our wife caught two of us together and guessed the rest. She is suing for divorce and charging bigamy. We still love her though. How can we get her to listen to reason? Since the case is in the newspapers anyway, I might as well sign my name. Married for better or worse. Jimmy Jones Jimmy Jones Jimmy Jones _Dear Joneses_: _Either reintegrate, or draw straws and two of you skidoo._ * * * * * Dear Nan Glanders: I am a debutante on tour through the United Planets. I have never been so humiliated in my life. Yesterday I was presented to a Rigellian and he spat on my new shoes. I would have slapped his face if I could have decided which one to hit. Steaming _Dear Steaming_: _Simmer down. Spitting on the feet is the traditional Rigellian gesture of welcome. You should have replied by stepping on his tail. Next time read your tourists' guide book better._