The King of Eavesdrop and TwoSense

In my head there lives two other creatures beside myself. They whisper in my ears and speak with my mouth like the fabled lament of Rumi. They tell me what others are saying around me and force me to respond, although, I know, it is absolutely none of my business. It would not be so bad if it were not the most unusual quips that fall from my chords. I am left defending them, if the conversers wish to pursue the matter, or I am laughed at with a discomforted funny look that seems to ask, “Who is this guy? Do you know them?” Their partner returns with a glance of “I have no idea who he is. I thought maybe you did.” Then, the voices either speak again with something more bizarre or they remain silent, allowing me to speak for them, which usually leaves me worse than before.

One time I told a group of mathematicians, who were speaking about infinity, something not even they have any real clue or conception about, that Einstein’s theory of Special Relativity reproves the world is indeed flat. With a special kind of mind this can be truth. Unfortunately, I did not have the evidence to stand on to support this claim except for a few lines from a History Channel documentary seen later in the evening than was necessary to be awake. They ripped me apart. They did not have the special minds required to comprehend such a statement, even if it were only to prove it incorrect. At times I wonder who was the lesser intelligence, myself for making the claim or they for refuting it so absolutely. It was like an agnostic speaking to a devout atheist and the best argument they could use was, “You have to be a complete idiot to even consider that there might be something else beyond this world.” When I tried to stop speaking about the subject, the voice would make me speak again. I see the nonbeliever often. He travels to the same coffee shop. Although I harbor slight contempt for his high and might alpha male argument techniques, it is not enough to make me cease my journey there. I love the rest of the atmosphere and it is close to my appartment. I have, however, begged TwoSense not to ever speak with him again.

The name of my involuntary voice is TwoSense. The whispers of others come from the King. The King finds the most extraordinary fuel for TwoSense to chime. Once he sent the voices of a group parting ways as I was walking home from a late night hot dog craving. A traditional couple were continuing on their own road from two young ladies entering a car for theirs. Obviously, they were all going to their respective homes for the night since it was past closing times. One of the ladies told the couple, “Have good sex.” I could have ignored it, but TwoSense could not. He said, “Now that is good advice.”

They do not even need to have words. Sometimes Eavesdrop only transmits sounds. A whooping cheer exiting a Japanese restaurant will make him say, “That is exactly how I feel after eating sushi.” A faulty car alarm being set into motion from a driver who has just parked and pressed the lock button on their keypad a little too long will emanate, “There are better ways to get attention.” Sirens tearing down the streets to unknown tragic events will make him look to the nearest café table and say, “It has a good beat, but you can’t dance to it.” Meanwhile, ambulances and firetrucks are pulling out the jaws of life on a sports car wrapped neatly around a tree. Yes, TwoSense can be very insensitive.

There is as much good as folly to the magic of TwoSense and the King. I can learn about the weather for the weekend, the surf report, terribly racist jokes, or the best location for a drink that night. He has helped people plan fashion shows, finish their novels, or decide which beverage to have the barista make. This is the reason for his name, TwoSense. His advice is usually worth about that much in the grand scheme of consequential things. Never has he solved a world problem or convinced the right person of a life changing direction that would eventually determine the fate of all mankind. If that were the case, he would inflate to almost a nickel.

The King has his moments as well. Not once has he told me which lucrative stock options would make me a millionaire, or the right horse to bet, or not to eat the fish at any particular dining establishment. He remains quiet to these predicaments. Occasionally, he will tell me who to vote for in the presidential elections, but everyone has a contradictory opinion in that department. I choose to abstain. When I listen hard enough he will blow the wind in the direction I need to be going or help me choose where to sit for the afternoon. The other day he asked me not to take a camping trip up in the country. It rained. I was grateful.

Damn those two culprits. The King is whispering about Freud and Jung. I resist. Another table tells him to tell me something about the latest flu craze. TwoSense has a joke that he should not tell. He withholds. Should she get the iced coffee or the green tea. “Green tea,” he wants to say, “with a shot of strawberry.” At one point they looked at me weird for ordering it. Now they named the style after me. I must fight these cravings of TwoSense. I have work to do. Oh, no. Not a child with a puppy. If there was one thing I could contain him from, here are two. The puppy is all over the place. The child is running after him. Here it comes. The little girl sees something just above me head. She is pointing at it.

“Mommy, I want a faerie, too.”