Back on Earth, your impostor consoles David
“Hey, enough is enough. I’m trying my best,” David says, his voice cracking, trembling, succumbing to a sudden heavy wheeze. A tear rolls down his cheek, sticks in his stubble.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” your impostor explains. “I was trying to provide constructive criticism. C’mon. Don’t cry.”
David says nothing. He just stands there rubbing the backs of his hands over his eyes to dry his tears. He sniffs the air twice like maybe there’s a pizza on the way. He parts the blinds with his stubby fingers. “Excuse me. I have to get this,” he says, referring to the delivery man climbing the stairs to his apartment. “And before you make any stupid fat jokes you should know it’s not pizza. Ok? So it’s not like, ‘Oh, look at David, eating pizzas all the time.’ It’s just some subs ok?” David licks his lips.
Your impostor doesn’t say anything. David calms down. Your clone reaches for a sub and takes a big bite. David wails. He’s sobbing. Your impostor is dumbfounded. He extends his arms, “Come on, David, I didn’t mean to upset you. Give me an Earth hug.”
Your damn extra terrestrial doppelganger has made a classic mistake. If that dumb crybaby David is also a squealer, your cover is blown. You’ll have to return to society to write your novel. You’ll face pointless distractions ranging from dubious Christmas themed Facebook spam to super holiday season caricatures at blowout prices. You scratch your chin.You decide to: