Act I
A balding biochemist in his thirties. Lab. door shut behind him. Descends down the stairs. A racquet in his hand. A fellow worker asks about his bike keys...
Biochemist: Shit man! I've to put teflon coating on the bike. But my cloning did not work.
Fellow: You don't deserve a teflon coating.
Biochemist: Hmmm
Both walk away from the institute building heading for the badminton court while they praise the b'lore weather.
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