Myself (Part VI)

Charlie shook his head. “One of you want to explain yourselves?”

I spoke up. “Charlie, when I woke up this morning, this other me was there threatening me.”

Other me stood up incredulously. “You took that SERIOUSLY?”

“Damn it, Bernie,” Charlie said, “I keep telling you, your deadpan really doesn’t work sometimes!”

“Damn,” other me said. “Well I guess that one didn’t work.”

Charlie caught me smirking. “Don’t you start that! You’d have done the same damn thing!”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, “but I didn’t!” I paused for a second. “Well, I guess I did. Damn.”

“Look, Bernie,” Charlie said. “I know you’re having an existentialist field day, but it’s giving me a frickin’ headache. I don’t care whether you are him, or he is you, or you’re his evil twin from another dimension, or he’s an actor with extensive makeup hired to act just like you, or you don’t actually exist and are a dual figment of both my and his imagination, or he’s Bugs Bunny playing one of his old tricks again, but as far as my eyes can tell, I’m looking at two different people, and if I take one of you out back and shoot you in the arm, the other one will still be able to pitch tomorrow. What I’m getting at is you two need different names.”

“I call Bugs!” other me said.

“Shut up, ya dumb rabbit,” Charlie mumbled. “You,” he pointed at me, “you came into my house just before noon. You’re AM Bernie.” He looked at other me. “Guess what you are.”

“FM Bernie?”

“I’m gonna kill you, ya damn rabbit.”

“But Charlie—”

“Shut up, AM Bernie.”