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by William Michaelian |
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Tell me, Lester, how have you been? Oh, just fine, Buck. Your name is Buck, isn’t it? No, my name is Melvin. What’s yours? My name is also Melvin. Oh, really? Now that’s a coincidence. You know, you look a lot like Lester. Do I? So do you. Ah. That’s because Lester is my twin brother. Now, if you and I were twins, instead of just regular brothers, it might be easier to keep things straight. Have you ever considered plastic surgery, by any chance? Well, yes, Melvin, I have. I’ve not only considered it, but I’ve had it done. Really? How odd. You’d think I’d remember. Yes, you would. Especially since you were the one who did the job. No, I wasn’t. That was Buck. Buck? Who’s Buck? You, of all people, should know. Buck is my father. Oh, yes. That’s right. Now I remember. Which reminds me — Buck is my father as well. Very good, Melvin. I’m glad you’ve figured that out. Now. Sit down. There is something we need to discuss. I am sitting. Ah! So you are. And I am also sitting. How silly of me. Hey, don’t worry about it. What’s on your mind? Pardon? I said, what’s on your mind? Yes, yes. I heard you. You don’t have to shout. I’m not shouting. No, of course not. Anyway, what is it you want to discuss? Well, Mel — you don’t mind if I call you Mel, do you? No, Mel, not at all. Uh, it’s Melvin. Oh. Sorry. No, Melvin, please feel free to call me Mel — or anything else, for that matter, as long as you get to the point. I was just about to, when you so rudely interrupted. Oops! Sorry! Again, I beg your forgiveness. Oh, all right, you’re forgiven. And it goes on like this every day, for at least two hours. The truth is, Melvin and Mel are not brothers, or even distant cousins. Buck is Mel’s father. Melvin’s father is Lester, who also happens to be Mel’s twin brother — at least he was until the accident, which is where the plastic surgery comes in. If this all sounds a bit confusing, don’t worry. I was confused at first myself. But Melvin and Mel quickly straightened me out. Although, to be perfectly honest, there are still days I wish they’d find another diner. See, not all my customers are as understanding as I am. They get mad and squirt blobs of ketchup on the back of Melvin and Mel’s sport coats. But the two Ms never notice. After they finish their coffee, they pat each other on the back and walk out of here with ketchup on their hands — and they still don’t notice. But none of this matters. What matters is what happened yesterday when one of them didn’t show up. Right off, I noticed Mel was kind of fidgety, so I asked him what was wrong. I’m Melvin, he said. It’s Mel. I think he’s dead. What do you mean, you think he’s dead? I said. Either he’s dead or he isn’t, unless there’s something I’m not quite understanding here. To which Melvin replied, Cup of coffee, please. I’m beat. So I poured Melvin a cup of coffee and put it on the counter. Go on, I said. Your story is gripping me. Melvin slurped some of his coffee and said, It’s Mel. I think he’s dead. You already said that, I said. I did? Melvin said. Oh. Sorry. He slurped some more coffee. Melvin, I said, what happened? Where is Mel? Is he really dead? I’m not sure, Melvin said. When I left him, he looked dead. That doesn’t sound good, I said. Melvin sighed. Hashed browns, if you don’t mind, he said. I brought Melvin a plate of hashed browns. While I was at it, I refilled his coffee. Thanks, he said. Don’t mention it, I said. Now, please — tell me about Mel. Ah, yes! Melvin said. Poor Mel! Alas, I knew him well. Look, I said, I don’t mean to be redundant, but is Mel dead or not? Melvin looked at me as if I were a stranger. Huh? he said. Mel? Do you know Mel? Tell me, is he dead, or isn’t he? After that, he stared at his hashed browns. That’s it, I said. If you’re not going to tell me, then at least give me Mel’s address. I’ll go find out myself. I pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. Here, I said. Write. Melvin quickly wrote out Mel’s address. This is also my address, he said. Oh? I said. You live at the same address? No, Melvin said. Neither of us do. Oddly enough, this made perfect sense — until I actually got there and rang the doorbell. Yes? a man who looked very much like Melvin and Mel said, may I help you? I’m looking for Mel, I said. I hear he’s in trouble. Come in, sir, the Melvin-Mel look-alike said. I’m glad you’re here. It’s just dreadful. And I followed whomever it was down the hall and up the stairs and out onto the balcony overlooking the river that used to be quite a sight before it was polluted. And there, on the balcony, was Lester. Lester, I said. Where’s Mel? Have you seen him? Lester smiled. He’s down there, he said, pointing at the river. Sure enough, there was Mel, rowing a small boat upstream. What’s he doing down there? I said. I heard he was dead. To which Lester replied, You must have heard that from Melvin. That’s not all I heard, I said. Really? Lester said. What else did you hear? Never mind, I said. Mel! I called out. Mel! Are you all right? Of course he’s all right, Lester said. He’s rowing, isn’t he? Mel! I screamed. Mel! Finally, Mel looked up at me and waved. Tell Melvin I’m all right, he yelled. I waved back, then heaved a sigh of relief. Then, just at that moment, I heard a splash. It was Mel. He’d fallen overboard. Oh, no, I cried. We’ve got to save him. But Lester only laughed. Save him? he said. He does this every day. This is how he gets his kicks. A few minutes later, Mel washed up on the bank. He was dead, all right. I rushed back to the diner. Much to my surprise, I found Melvin and Mel sitting side by side at the counter, enjoying Melvin’s hashed browns. As usual, each had at least half a bottle of ketchup on his back. Mel, I said, what on earth are you doing here? I always come here, Mel replied. Boy, he added, you sure are out of breath. What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I said. What’s wrong? We thought you were dead. That’s what’s wrong! At this, Melvin and Mel both laughed. You fell for it, they said in unison. That was Buck they pulled out of the river, not Mel. And then they laughed some more. Then they explained the whole thing — or tried to. If I’ve got my facts straight, what really happened is that their plan to kill Buck failed, and they killed Lester by mistake. The man I thought was Lester was really Buck. And the man who had let me into the house in the first place, the man who looked like Melvin and Mel, was really Mel. But he was only pretending to look like himself. See, that’s what fooled me. On the other hand, even that could be wrong. Maybe Lester wasn’t killed at all. Knowing those two, it could have been someone posing as Lester — why, I don’t know. But I’ll find out. I promise you, I’ll find out. William Michaelian’s newest releases are two poetry collections, Winter Poems and Another Song I Know, published in paperback by Cosmopsis Books in San Francisco. His short stories, poems, and drawings have appeared in many literary magazines and newspapers. His novel, A Listening Thing, is published here in its first complete online edition. For information on Michaelian’s other books and links to this site’s other sections, please go to the Main Page or visit Flippantly Answered Questions. |
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