They know your twin

Upon getting my passport yesterday the nice public functionary, duly sworn in I'm sure, verified my credentials. This being another form of Almighty government, in this case the federal, they wanted to ascertain for themselves that I was who I claimed. A reasonable procedure since, obviously, the other government and for that matter the clergy-types cannot be trusted.

After a few minutes of quiet deliberation on the nice lady's part, she asks deadpan: "Do you have a twin?"

"Do I what?" I asked, expecting a lot of questions but certainly not that one.

"Do you have a twin?" she reiterates in the same tone.

"No, I do not" I answer in my most convinced bewilderment, then I add "my mother suffered 7 martyrs giving birth to me. If there had been another one, trust me, I would have heard about it."

So she goes on about her business, well my business really, but she's doing her job, and quite professionally at that.

A twin? Really? Nah... After all, I was there but I really was not all that conscious of what was going on. There might have been a veritable bevy of me and I would not know for sure. His name is apparently Philip, he is 5'10", brown hair and brown eyes and was born on the same date and in Montréal.

Damned! He could be my twin, but then I tell the nice lady, "brown hair and eyes isn't exactly a rarity where I was born." She just smiles and nods her head in agreement. At this moment, I wonder if her hair colour is her own. If not, it's a damned good tint job.

Back to my twin. My government, well not so much my govnernment as the second one I have to put up with, has seen fit to assume that there may be two of me. Given my wonderful existential feelings of yesterday, I'm even more elated because everything is doubled!

But it's enough to sow seeds of doubt. Maybe my mother lied to me all these years? What if she didn't have enough money to keep us both and gave what's-his-face up for adoption? What if there was a mixup at the hospital? What if he's got a tweenage wife? The list goes on.

The Almighty might declare all this as fact. Again religion comes into play, faith if you will: do I believe the woman I know and love as my mother, or do I believe the Almighty government, that I have a twin. If the government delcares that I do indeed have a twin, I am well and truly screwed. There is nothing I can do about it, I have to accept it as fact, and to quote myself from yesterday "It's an absolute certainty which mere mortal cannot comprehend, nor combat. "

I am that mere mortal.

The ramifications to my life are endless: Do I contact him? Do I want a twin? What will happen with the relationship with my mother? That lying bitch. Does my father know? Poor unworthy sod. Do either of them care? I knew it! Does Philip even know that I exist? Bastard that he is. Does he want a twin? When do we meet up? Where? Will his tweenage wife be there? Will I be lusting after her? The list goes on.

Then the nice lady tells me: "Nope not a twin. His mother's maiden name is different."

Jesus-H-Christ, Lady! Couldn't you have told me this in the first place? - I think quietly to myself.

Let's not tell my mom about the "lying bitch" part, OK?

I declare that I do not have a twin.
I never had one, nor do I want one.

Note of Author: "7 martyrs" is actually a french expression, simply means to suffer excrutiating pain. The conversation was in french, and so was all the cussing in my head.