Michael and Jonco: Suitable for Framing

Author's Note: It's not about me, it's about the message.

The Missing Link

Being someone's alter ego as well as their reflection isn't always a walk in the park. I think it would be a lot easier just being the real person, himself, but the bodies of real, actual persons are already occupied and take up a lot of physical space in the universe. Unlike yours truly. Being Jonco Bugos is much more than simply being the polar opposite of Michael Casher. I blog, therefore I am. I am a living being in my own right. And he knows that. But he'll never admit it.

That's why I spend so much time hanging out at Think-A-Holic Lounge. Michael Casher would never enter an establishment like this and the main reason for that is because Think-A-Holic Lounge occupies no space in the physical universe like he does. The Lounge has no position in the space-time continuum like an ordinary tavern. In other words, Michael Casher wouldn't be able to get a foot in the door here because he's simply too much of an ordinary, everyday type being. A commoner, if you will. And I know that just eats him up inside. The stupid novelist.

Think-A-Holic Lounge is a hideout for a all kinds of outcasts in the publishing underworld. This is a place for hacks and Michael knows that. If Michael was a civilian on Earth and I was a cop and I told him that this is a bar for cops he'd understand. But writers don't understand hacks, the author wannabes who never get a break. Hacks like us are simply part of the symbiosis of the universe. Without hacks, the people who can actually write wouldn't stand out among their peers. Not one little bit.

In other words, Mr. Michael Casher, I, Jonco Bugos, your back-ass-wards alter ego, made you what you are.

So, how, then, and certainly why, did I find one of Michael Casher's custom cufflinks (see pic) on the floor under the bar stool next to me just after last call last night? Angus said his lips were sealed and the regular Lounge lizards, my fickle pals in the mysterious publishing underworld, are also silent on the topic of Michael Casher. As far as I'm concerned, that breaks the unwritten clubhouse rules for Think-A-Holic Lounge. And the unspoken code of the hack.

You want your stupid cuff link back, Michael Casher?

Come and get it.

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.