Let Me Poke Your Meat
Paulie sat on the edge of the couch, back in its normal state once more, and watched as the small pink ball pressed itself flat against the glass in between them.
“Do you know what you are?”
“No. Do you?”
“I don’t know what you are.”
“Do you know what you are?”
“I mean, I know who I am. I’ve been me for forty-seven years. You’ve been you for…”
“How long have I been me?”
“I, uh, I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know I am me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand either.”
Paulie sighed, exhausted at the cyclical nature of the conversation, hearing his own voice parroted back at him in nearly all the correct tones, but there was an uncanny differentness that confounded the man.
“Do you know why you talk? How you are able to talk?”
“No. Do you?”
“This i
