It’s not easy to live with someone else inside your head. But we manage. Sure, it’s not easy, and takes lots of getting used to, but after you’ve done that, it’s smooth sailing from there on.
And it’s not like one of us is telling anyone to go blow up the world, just cause that old hag on the corner looked at us funny. No, sir. That’s for crazy folk. We are perfectly sane, we just share one head. Think of us as of brothers, they wear the same socks, T-shirts, shoes and whatnot. We’re the same. But rather than wearing the same socks, we wear the same head. Although technically we do wear the same socks as well. Cause our head is attached to a body - how cool is that?

Многа инастраных букаффIt’s a boy. Or rather a man, cause he’s in his twenties by now. He has dark hair, hazel eyes and the cutest birth-mark on his… erm, anyhow we’re very proud of him. But since it’s us who tell him what he should do perhaps we should be proud of us. Hurray for us!

Anyhow, enough about the shell. It’s bad enough Meaty always gets the credit for everything, and no-one even knows about us. So let’s not add to the problem. We’re a perfect match, I guess it’s true that opposites attract. I myself am very coy and quiet. He’s anything but. I’ll even dare to say he’s extravagant (he’s napping at the moment, so I can get away with this). We met one day when I was taking Meaty to talk to our boss. It was a dreadful experience cause the guy (or guys) who sit inside the bosses head are real mean motherfuckers. He was getting all evil on us, screaming and spitting on my body. And I was panicking, ready to roll into a small ball and start crying. And then I hear myself tell that son of a bitch off. And with what words! He almost cried, and gave Meaty a raise!

And there I am thinking, holy shite, I’m hard! HARD! H.A.R.D. (and see Meaty stick his hands in his pockets) And then I hear, “dude, knock it off. It’s not you, it’s me.” You can imagine my shock. We’re not supposed to hear voices in our heads – we ARE the voices in people’s heads. And then this. I thought I was losing it. But then we got to talking, turn out he’s taken left instead of right at Chernobyl, mutated, and snuck into Meaty after wandering around for some years. We’ve fought for a while cause we were stupid and egoist, which gave the body lots of headaches. But then we realized how stupid and egoist we were, and that living in a body which lies around all day cause its head hurts is fucking boring. So we agreed to take turns, but consult each other before the really big decisions. He turned out to be a loveable guy. And now I had lots of time to do stuff for myself, rather than just command Meaty.

I call him Martin, and he called me Jim, although it didn’t really matter, since there were only two of us here, so we don’t need to use names. Once, a Third tried coming into our head, but we scared him away with our passive-aggressive thing. He got dizzy, and had to scamper to find a lavatory.

So, this is how we live, the three of us: me, Martin and Meaty. Some people don’t understand us, and tried locking us up. But don’t worry, we’re getting along. Oh, and forgive that hand sticking out from under the couch, we didn’t have time to clean up before you showed up.

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