Mirror Mirror

I was excited the other night about going to Think-A-Holic Lounge because I heard that a sensational new comic was making his debut appearance there that night. This guy was actually a real loser who pretended to be this great impressionist but his cool one-liners always saved him from being run out of town on a rail, so to speak.

Anyway, I hesitated to turn on the ceiling light in my tiny bedroom because it always makes me feel like I'm in an interrogation room somewhere in the Middle East and I'd rather not feel that way. So, I touched my boudoir lamp on the night stand just once and stood in front of the mirror. What I saw is pictured here. I knew instinctively who the jaybird was.

"Jonco?" I said a little too timidly. I knew damn well that I would not see Michael Casher in the mirror but his alter ego instead. I also knew that I was somehow that alternate personality. I just have a hard time accepting this behind-the-scenes role in his life, that's all.

"Um hmm," the image said back.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, being careful not to antagonize him.

"Oh, just making sure you're out the door by ten so you're not late for your act," Jonco scoffed.

"Oh," I replied, "I almost forgot who I was for a moment."

"Well, get you ass in gear, then," Jonco ordered and then he fled deeper into the mirror where I couldn't see him or hear him or wring his neck.