realises that moving Aimée out of line of beak has put me in

moves aside quickly

Hey, Miracleman! Be more careful when you're having magical battles in enclosed spaces- you nearly deaded me!

The house lurches sideways, and Miracleman is back inside, along with a pterodactyl-looking thing whose wingspan should be longer than the room is wide, but then, I'm no interior decorator. Funny.

"Ye gods!" I bellow as the pterodactyl-thing exhales a stream of flame. Am-Chau sidesteps it, and only the draperies are set aflame.

"Hold, foul creature!" I advance on the winged monster. "It is time you faced a foe worthy of--"

He slaps me with a wing, and I am thrown into the wall. Through it, actually. As I fall towards the street outside I hear a faint screaming, and it sounds like the house.

//You've upset Carrie, now,// Dagfari complains. //Bogeymen in her walls, indeed?//

'Well I'm sorry if I've annoyed your girlfriend,' I answer crossly, 'but there really wasn't anything else to be done.'

"You know, you'd really think that for a place this size the bathroom would be bigger."

I jump. I've really become used to shaving in privacy. Just as well it's an electric shaver.

"I mean, cosy enough, but hardly built for company."

I'm especially not used to being interrupted by, well, myself. Honestly, mornings are already traumatic enough. I may never shave again. "True, though in fairness, I didn't expect it to become an issue."

"Indeed. Look, why don't I grab something to eat, and we can discuss the situation over breakfast?" With that he's off in the direction of the kitchen. I finish up - so very grateful that I don't shave immediately our of the shower.

Anyway, it gives me time to work out some relevant questions, so on reaching the dining table I can open the conversation. "I'd assume you're my evil twin or something, then?"

"What gave it away?"

"You're eating the Vegemite. From the jar."

He inspects the label. "I guess the mystery's gone out of our relationship, then."

"Yes, and about that: cliche and all, but just where do you see this thing going?"

"Am I always this brusque?"

"Morning's really aren't my best time."

"Fair enough. Mine either, really."

"Just for the record, in the future let's not do that."

"Right. So. What's my nefarious plan? That's the question?"

I nod.

"Well, I'm new around these parts, really... Ok, how's this for an idea: all that hardware we have in the back yard, why don't we try opening all the barriers, have a good old free-for-all?"

"It's not actually operational yet. Even if it were, I don't think that'd be a good idea. It'd be a nightmare if foreign species got into all the different ecosystems."

"Should I care about that?"

I consider. "Biodiversity, could come in handy later on. I'm gathering you don't really have anything set in concrete; may as well leave your options open, right?"

"Fair point. Ok, we won't do that. Of course, we could just let a bunch of them loose in Sang Sacre."

"It's still not operational, though. I won't be confident it won't all just blow up until next week."

"Pity. So no rampaging hordes then. Ah well, I can use the time to become better acquainted with this place."

"Now that's a good idea. Let me know what you find out, ok? I haven't really had a chance to get out much yet. ...Oh, and if you happen to turn anything up on what might have brought you stepping out of my mirror, I'd be much obliged."

"Do you a deal. I'll do the scouting thing, if you set up a guest bedroom for me. ...Preferably one with its own bathroom."

I ponder this. "You know, for an evil twin, you're being awfully reasonable."

He smiles. "Well, no sense in putting your blood pressure through the roof. Patience is a virtue, don't you agree?"

"Absolutely. Ok, you have a deal." We shake on it, and he departs. I ponder my options. So Sang Sacre's reputation for weirdness seems justified. Hopefully whatever's going on will sort itself out soon, and this whole duplication thing will be resolved. On the other hand... It could be useful having an evil twin about the place. After all, patience is a virtue, and I may as well leave my options open.

Half an hour later, I grab a few tools, and head out to inspect the perimeter fence.

Middle of the night bathroom break, evil things should not appear at such a time. It's ... evil.

"My god, look at you," someone who looks like me sneers. "Haven't we let ourselves go to pot."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'll give you this one for free, 'cause, you know, middle of the night and your mind's on other thing. He's cute, by the way. I'm your evil twin, I came out of the mirror."

The cold on my neck isn't from the heat being turned down. "Evil twin. As in opposite? Or just in acting on the nasty things I choose not to?"

"Both."

"Crap. So the urge to inflict torture on the basically innocent but clueless--"

"Sounds like just the thing for an evening's entertainment. That Achmed boy is cute--"

"Leave Achmed alone."

"Or what?"

Evil twins always know how you fight, and they're more likely to cheat. But ... "Bob! Get your non-reflecting butt in here!"

"Wha--huh--What? Why?"

"Evil twin just popped up out of hte mirror."

"Evil -- twin? As in, all your bad qualities given form?"

"Something like that. And you needn't sound so interested!"

The other me grins. "He does sound like fun."

Bob appears in the doorway. "So I guess this means a threesome is out."

"Yes! Come on, Bob, this is me in perma-PMS mood. Do you really want to deal with that? The me who occasionally picks up a knife and stares at strangers very thoughtfully?"

"Hmm--oh, well, all right."

There's a snap and a pop as I walk past the mirror on my way out of the shower. Which was nowhere near long enough, by the way.

She's ... she's ... well, she's naked, for one.

As am I. Wow. The last possible shreds of nudity taboos go out the window when it's you. Replaced by an urge to ask me/her to turn around so I/she can see from the back.

Which, look at my/her expression, I'm/she's not alone in.

"And you are?"

"Your opposite? Evil twin? Counterpart?"

"Which is?"

"You, I guess."

"Why?"

"We're just rotated in place."

"Shall we tip the scales towards evil, then?"

"No, I was thinking to tip them towards good."

"Hey! You know what we could ..."

"Fight for it!"

"But first, could you ..."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

I slam into the wall and bounce, just as a jet of flame sets the draperies on fire. What am I doing back in the house?

"Hold, foul creature--" I hear, then a thump and a crunch and there's a brand new door in one wall.

"Holy fucking shit!" I scream, and dodge a vicious thrust from an eight foot long beak. "Who did this?!"

Am-Chau peeks up from behind the couch. "Um..."

"I will deal with you later," I snarl. Just then Hector leaps on the 'dactyl's neck and wraps his huge hairy arms around it. The 'dactyl hisses and lurches, bashing its head into the ceiling and leaving a dent.

"Oh, fuck this," I say and point my staff.

Now Hector is holding onto a viciously twisting ferret. Unfortunately it wriggles out of his grasp and poings across the room into a heating vent.

"Curse that weasel!" I cry and stride over to the vent. I jam my staff between the slats and let loose a torrent of fire.

Chaos, lurching, split personalities - I hate this. I need a weapon, a shield, even a cell phone. Ack! There's a suit of armor in the other room. Maybe it's holding something useful. I race over to dislodge the pike, or halberd, or whatever it is, when I notice a woman stalking towards me.

Ha! It's only my reflection. That happens to me all the time, especially when I'm not wearing my glasses.

I reach for my pocket to get the damned things when I suddenly feel dizzy and a bit nauseous. Oh. . . right. Damn!

My reflection stretches and gives me a wicked grin. As she steps out of the ornate gilt frame I notice that her hair has been double-dyed black. It's not the most flattering look, but it matches the black leather jacket and jeans. My jacket is brown suede. Apparently evil doesn't give a shit about being an Autumn.

"Hey, you're wearing contacts."

"What an incredibly lame observation." She grabs a sabre from the wall. I get a grip on a pike. We face each other. I don't know which one of us rolls her eyes first.

"I'm lousy with weapons."

"Me, too."

"And what would be the point in trying to destroy each other?"

"Yeah, it could have unpleasant metaphysical ramifications, like the old guy-goes-back-in-time-kills-his-dad thing."

My evil twin thinks a moment. "Well. I guess I'll be off then."

"Where are you going?"

"I'll think of something. Maybe I'll start by setting fire to every business that uses "K" instead of "C" in words like cosy."

Apparently my evil twin is me, with poor impulse control.

"I'll catch you later," I say, intending it as a warning. Otherpenny gives me a backhand wave and exits through the French doors.

Miracleman's house moves a few feet sideways, and someone comes crashing through the wall towards the street side. Looks like the other me. Sucker. There's a lot of shouting and roaring and flames from inside the house. Pity. Not about the people inside, about the decor. Very tasteful.

I duck down the alley and make my way down the mean streets. I strut and sneer and challenge everyone I pass with my outthrust chin. I'm bad, and I don't care who--

"Want some lemonade, mister?" A cherub-faced child asks from behind a hand-painted booth.

"No. And for your information, it's spelled "-ade," not "-aid." And 25 cents is a pittance. You'll never make your profit margins, and your parents will be forced to put you out on the street for not earning your keep."

The child throws a glass of lemonade in my face. "For your information, amateurish spelling is a marketing technique, considering my demographics. And the profit comes later, after they're hooked."

I spit out the lemonade. "You're not related to Gudanov, by any chance?" The child stares at me blankly. "Very well. Carry on with your shenanigans, then."

I walk the mean streets.

I slam into the concrete center stage of a repertory production of "Shakespeare on the Corner." Apparently they're doing "Twelfth Night." I've stepped--perhaps landed on is a better term--on one of Malvolio's lines. The actor seems discombobulated.

"I marvel," I whisper at him.

"I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal," he says, and nods his thanks at me. I mend the cracks in the concrete as I tiptoe off the corner/stage.