Sunday, August 29, 2010


You never hear of twins going on shooting sprees. Twins seem so well-adjusted, and how could they be otherwise; they always have a real-life image of themselves to pose as a sounding board. Starting from birth, they have the luxury of talking everything out with their double before making life-changing decisions. Just imagine their conversation while readying the firearms:

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea."
"Why not, we agreed on this last night. Certain people must pay."
"Yeah, but maybe we've been listening to too much Kenny Chesney lately."
"It's colored our world, hasn't it?"
"Yeah, and when it's over they're going to put us in separate cells."
"Right, we won't be able to talk to each other ever again."
"Yeah, and then we'd be like everybody else, alone and bewildered."
"But what'll we do with all the ammunition we've stockpiled."
"Donate it to Jerry Lewis. He'll know what to do."
"Great Idea; I've been thinking, maybe we should change our hairstyle."
"Yeah, you're so smart."
"No, you're the smart one."
Twindom. No telling how many lives it's saved.

And dictators. Twin dictators are simply an unthinkable concept. Any potential ones likely had similar conversations, discouraging them from their impending practice:

"We could take over this country, yell at everyone, make them afraid, and get all kinds of free stuff."
"Yeah, but no one would come to any of our slumber parties."
"I never thought of that. You're so smart."
"No, you're the smart one."
There's always that affirmation.

The real benefit to having a twin would be to pretend that the two of you are one person, and alternate your days going to work or school, giving you a great deal of free time. Every other day would be a day off. And in the evening, you could exchange notes on what transpired during the day so you'd both be up to speed on the previous day's events (when really, one of you was at home working on various crafts projects).

Honestly, I'd feel sorry for my twin, what with me constantly saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and being grossly misunderstood. It would be a laborious task, going around the next day apologizing, explaining, and tidying up my disturbing wake.

Maybe everybody should have a twin. It would be humbling, a constant reminder that there's an exact copy of you who could take over upon your demise. And you'd probably take better care of your health, secretly figuring from the very beginning that you'd want to be the last one standing.

I dated a twin once, and she and her twin played a trick on me and had me take the wrong one out on a date. Right off, something didn't seem quite right, and I didn't entirely figure it out until we got to the beach and changed into our swim suits. They were fraternal; the stand-in twin was a boy, so the swim trunks was a giveaway, but being polite, I let the joke play out until the kiss goodbye. Nobody likes a spoil sport, especially trickster twins.