Hey Vasquez, man, I been thinking about you. Normally I wouldn’t tell you that, like you need another reason to be smug to me, but it wasn’t just you. No man, I was thinking about twins.

You and me, we’re kinda like twins, aren’t we?

…except for the whole “born together” part…and the “being related part”…. shut up, it’s an analogy.

See Vasquez,I learned something the other day. There are two types of twins. There’s fraternal: two heads, two bodies, two babies, just two eggs from the same basket. Then there’s identical twins.

I didn’t know this, you probably did, they’re called “mono zygotic.” Means “one egg.” They’re the same damn person, at first. Imagine that. Splitting like a flatworm right down the middle, and now you’re on the right and some asshole on the left says he’s you. Hilarious.

Anyway, that ain’t the point I’m trying to make. Interesting, not the point. See, that doesn’t always go so well. See, the womb is a much more dangerous place than I’ve been led to believe. Sometimes, the eggs, I guess they move around a little while they’re in there, well the eggs, they’re pretty soft just then, they smack into each other and get stuck. Can you believe it? Like fuckin’ derby cars. And sometimes they’re still stuck when the baby, well, babies come out. That’s called Siamese twins Vasquez, but maybe you didn’t know that ain’t PC anymore. They like to be called conjoined twins(like your dad prefers to be called Ethel.) It’s just that the most famous twins were from Siam. Ain’t thast some shit? You gotta wonder if someday something won’t be named after you and me.

Anyway, best case scenario, they’re sharing a foot. Or a shoulder. One careful snip and you’ve got two gimps. That’s best-case scenario. But sometimes they’re sharing something inside, like a liver. Something you can’t just snip out unless you want one dead twin.

Hold on, I’ve got a point. Hold your damn horses.

And then, then, there’s the really special cases. Got to see one live yesterday, while Marsha was in the ER. You’ve got one whole baby, and a stub of other baby growing out of his head. Not a whole baby, doesn’t quite have a brain, but it’s got a face. It’s got eyes, nose, mouth, hell, almost looks like it could belong on a normal baby, but it’s all small. Usually doesn’t have any arms or legs, just little stubs. Looks like a carrot, in fact.

They call it parasitic twins, ain’t that appropriate, Vasquez? See the carrot baby isn’t just growing on the normal baby, it’s leeching off it. Just sucking away life and giving nothing back. It’s never gonna go “goo.” It’s never gonna walk on its own. Can’t even think, with half a brain. It can smile though. It’s got a face.

Yeah, I’m getting  there.

Imagine being there as it comes out. Imagine how the mother feels. Instead of one big, whole baby, she’s got one-and-a-half babies, and separating them isn’t gonna be easy. See, the carrot-baby has a pretty good grip on the other baby, and separating them’s a sensitive process. Quoting the doctor there, sensitive process. It’s tricky. And expensive. And until you do it you’ve got a baby with this big weight on his head that doesn’t understand why he can’t move like other normal babies. It’s sad. Don’t you think it’s sad? I do.

That’s what brings me to you, Vasquez. The fucking albatross around my neck. All you do is take, man, you just grew on my life like a fucking tumor. For a long time I didn’t even understand it all… then I saw that baby.

Marsha? She’s fine. They gave her drugs, but that kind of thing’s hard on a woman. I’m gonna have to walk on eggshells around her for a while, can’t tell her anything that would upset her.

No, see, you and me, we’re gonna have to let go. I’m gonna find just the right place to cut, I’m gonna separate us, see, and we can go our separate ways. There ain’t a name for what we are, but there will be one day.


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