Evil Editor and Evil Editor both woke within seconds of each other in a stark room wrapped in sickly-colored mirrors. Both groped habitually (for their missing spectacles) and both were certain that a cruel hoax had been perpetrated on them by some fiendish power.
Evil Editor was sitting in a folding chair and his tidy appearance had been disrupted by someone’s going-through of his pockets. His creased-at-the-cleaners trousers had floppy rabbit ears and this astounded him far more than seeing his exact likeness wake up and begin to tuck his shirt in.
The second Evil Editor had also abandoned his search for his own glasses and began shoving his hand down the front of his pants. Waking up in a hard-backed chair with one’s shirt untucked was no way for a civilized man to live.
A single light bulb hung from a single cord from a solitary ceiling. Between the two men was a table, painted Navajo white, and bolted to the floor.
“This,” said Evil Editor, “is how I envisioned a face-off between Bill O’Reilly and Keith Olberman.”
“They’ll never put those two together,” said the other Evil Editor. “It’s like when they kept Scully and Molder from fucking.”
“My word! I beg of you, good sir. Do not use that kind of language before me. You’ll curl my chops!”
“Or like showing Chef Ramsey swapping DNA with some beautiful, inverted waitress…”
“Enough! You are an absurd man with grotesque sensibilities!”
Evil Editor had pounded the table between the two Evil Editors with his fist. The other Evil Editor had slapped the table with his hand. Both men now smarted.
”Just as I suspected. You are the part of me that I loathe. Wimpy priggish geezer!”
“Then you must be the part of me that I try and suppress! Oafish insouciant pervert!”
“I AM SO GLAD TO BE RID OF YOU!!”
The two men were shocked. Seeing their other nature separated out and forced into this confrontation in such a setting was a diabolical predicament, indeed! It must have been a minion who contrived such a plot! But which one?
“IT HAD TO BE DAVE!”
--Scott from Oregon