Last week's prompt. I promised Ken.

It's neither polished nor close to developed/finished, but it IS short. I promised I'd post something...

“So, I totally forgot I was going out tonight,” grins my doppelganger’s bespectacled brother. He’s addressing a friend of mine—Jason. I overheard. I’m very good at overhearing. Some might call me an active overhearer of things, and I would tell them there’s a real word for that—eavesdropper.

           

            “What?”

 

            My doppelganger’s brother is standing close to Jason. They’re friends and the music is loud.

 

            “I forgot I was going out tonight.”

 

            Whether or not they’re both a little intoxicated, they look it. Each holding a bottle of local brew—something with a dog or a busty blonde on the label probably—leaning toward each other as though their foreheads are unusually heavy and conversing in a quiet yell. This living room might be a bit small for the full D.J. Spin set up. I have to stand close to overhear.

 

            “I put my jacket on to take the garbage out. Forgot my shirt!”

 

            My doppelganger’s brother laughs, shakes his head—he’s so whimsically laidback and absent-minded. His zip-up hoodie is opened a fourth revealing a hairyish pale and skinny chest. When I saw him earlier in the evening it seemed European. Do Europeans do things like that?

 

            Jason cocks his head, “Again?”

 

            “What?”

 

            “You’ve done that before.”

 

            “Oh.”

           

            Hell, we all need conversation starters.

           

*

 

            This is a work of nonfiction. Everything in it is true. On a more interesting/contradictory note, I have lied a little, but you’ll spot that a mile away—you will. For instance, if I say something to the effect of “… at this party blah, blah cocktail weenies...” that’s probably true, but if I follow that with “… somethin’ somethin’ tiger!” you can see that that’s a lie from a mile’s distance. Sometimes it will be harder though. For instance, “without knowing me, standing outside this garage venue, Christina insinuated that I’m dashing.” That could be a tough call. Who’s this Christina? And who says “dashing?” And who says I’m not embellishing just to increase your estimation of my dashing qualities? You’d be right to raise your eyebrows—to be dubious—so what I’ll do is I’ll signal you. Anything not recognizably untrue from a substantial distance will be followed by a plus sign: +.

 

When you see + what I really want you to see is my head cocked, lips pursed, brow furrowed, and potentially dashing face shaking slightly from side to side as if to say “no,” but in a good-natured manner—as if your jokester dad just told “one of his fibs,” as your mom puts it, and she’s there behind him letting you know it’s fictitious. Do you have parents like that?  

 

Without knowing me, standing outside this garage venue, Christina did insinuate I had a certain dash to me. More directly, she assured me that some Francisco guy is “quite dashing,” after it had been decided that I look like Francisco. So… transitive properties, right? I didn’t announce that I’d have to destroy Francisco, but I made note of him on my internal Doppelganger Watch List.

 

Francisco doppelganger: Dashing. Possibly Latin.

Status: Not destroyed.

           

It turns out I have many doppelgangers—regularly being reported to me. Only in the last five to six years have they surfaced. Here’s the up-to-date watch list:

 

Logan doppelganger

Brother doppelganger

Ian Andersen of Jethro Tull doppelganger

Band doppelganger

Internet doppelganger

LacyJ doppelganger

Youtube doppelganger

Francisco doppelganger

 

I have to destroy my doppelgangers +. They’re bad luck—sometimes omens of the worst of luck. Check it out on Wikipedia if you don’t believe me. If you run into your doppelganger, you die thereafter. If I destroy them, that makes me the bad omen—wag the dog... or dog eat dog... some dog-related cliché. 

 ... then there will be more about doppelgangers most likely... ryan