My Evil Twin

Posted by dwallace on June 10, 2011 in My Evil Twin |

I have a twin brother. And although my mother doesn’t remember giving birth to him, he often follows me around to wreak havoc on my life.

The situation is always the same. Someone I am acquainted with will call me up the next day after I’ve been out drinking and tell me how my evil twin brother, “Hawaiian Brian,” showed up wherever they were, and started making a fool out of himself in someway, shape or form.

“Hey Doug, you’ll never believe what you did last night…” is the way it always starts out. Then they tell me about some random act, “…then after you told the second waitress, ‘Nice shoes wanna fuck?’ they threw us out.”

Sometimes the story will begin with, “Well it all started when you did the standing on the bar and you began mooning everyone, again…”

“No I didn’t! I was at home sleeping last night,” I say defending myself.

“Yeah at about four in the morning, after you passed out on my couch for a couple of hours,” they’ll have you believe.

“That must be my evil twin.”

“Hawaiian Brian? Yeah he was there too. We know all about him,” they say.

See, the thing is, no one seems to know the difference between me and him. We’re a spitting image of each other. That’s why they call it identical twins.

I understand why my friends don’t believe me. First of all, they have never met Brian when I’m sober, although they hear me complain about him all the time after I’ve had a few drinks. Secondly, I always start off the night with my buddies, so they think I’m there all night, but you know identical twins think a lot alike. And on a beautiful day I often want to go out to a bar and have a drink. Is it any surprise that Brian likes to do the same?

Brain and I both have the same tastes. Whenever someone just mentions the word beer we both get thirsty. We both like little hole in the wall bars. We both like cheap drinks, and Black and Tans. And we both love beautiful women. Is it our fault that we’re not afraid to talk to girls after having a couple of drinks?

But the thing is, Brian is a lot more aggressive than I am. Never in my right mind would I use a corny line like, “Hey, nice shoes wanna fuck?” What kind of line is that? But apparently it must work for him, because I’ve had more random girls come up to me, and mind you not usually very good looking ones, and say, “Hey, do you remember me?”

And I honestly can say, “No. I’m sorry I don’t.”

“You asshole! We had sex out in the parking lot behind The Red Sea. You told me I had nice shoes. You don’t remember that?!” they say.

“Ohhhhh.” I say. “You must mean my twin brother Hawaiian Brian. He says that kind of shit all the time.” This I have learned the hard way is the time to duck, because a slap to the face is immanent.

I’ve also been at parties of mutual friends and introduce myself to someone and they’ll say, “Yeah man, I met you before,” not so enthusiastically. That’s when they tell me, “Yeah we almost got in a fight the last time we met. Remember that?”

“You must be talking about my evil twin Hawaiian Brian.”

“No. I’m pretty sure it was you,” they say as they stare me down.

That damn Brian! When I see him I’m going to kick his ass. The problem is we always just slide right by each other not noticing when the other one walks in the room. I’m always the mild mannered, well behaved, twin and he’s the rowdy, “Lets get fucked up!” guy.

I’ll be sitting there enjoying my drink, quietly, and then right after I leave, no more than five minutes later usually, Brian walks in and drags my name through the mud.

I’ve tried telling on him like a good brother should. “Mom Brian’s out of control! You need to tell him that he needs to go to rehab or something.”

“You’re so funny. Brian. What a character. Where do you come up with this stuff?”

Well if she’s not going to do anything about I will. The next time I see Brian I’m having an intervention. I’m going to let him know that this behavior is unacceptable.

I’ll also be supportive and tell him that I’ll quit drinking with him as a sign of support, but he’s got to that the first step. I can’t do it for him. I’m tired of carrying him.

Oh well, guess I’ll have to run into him first. Maybe I’ll head down to one of the local watering holes and see if I can find him. All this talk about drinking has made me thirsty.


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