Stranger and Stranger (16 page)

Maybe later. My leg hurts like…OK, am too fuzzed to come up with juicy simile at the moment, but be assured that it hurts really, REALLY bad. Leave it to me to break a leg in the most complicated way possible. Am looking at bed rest for semiforever and crutches for approximately eternity, or at least the rest of the summer.

In other news, I have noticed cat-tooth imprints on my journal. Am now thinking the cats are probably responsible for getting our journals mixed up. Am glad they just dragged my journal around the house, rather than defiling it. Would not be able to fall asleep facedown in it anymore, that’s for sure.

Later

Am dying of worry, pain, withdrawal from cat affection, and fear for my life. Am in terrible mental haze due to evil medication. Keep falling asleep and dreaming that I am one of the loonies created by the Manifesto. I sure feel like one. Am suffering terrible guilt over having participated in that disaster. It’s not what I wanted to happen!!!!! I thought everyone was going to have a nice, mind-blowing, life-altering experience, then go out and…you know, paint sewer murals, or…make raven-golems…I don’t know…and, instead, it looks like we have just brutalized them with our own Strangeness and semidestroyed their minds in the process.

GAH. Clearly, it was a big mistake to want other people to be Strange. I mean, even if it had worked exactly as I imagined, how
lame would THAT be? Everyone fighting for space in the sewer to paint their mural? Or creating preternatural beings out of miscellaneous animal parts? Raven is trouble enough. Imagine all the havoc that HUNDREDS of Ravens would cause. [Shudder.]

It’s not like I have this burning need to be different from other people, but I also don’t have any desire for them to be like me. Wish I had never gone along with this plan in the first place!

Later

OK, WHERE ARE THE CATS? I am in insane withdrawal. I need to pet a cat NOW. I need to stare into Mystery’s infinite eyes and hear Sabbath’s retarded meows of love. I need to feel NeeChee’s whiskers rubbed against my skin. I need Miles’ claws to make bread on my stomach. GIVE ME KITTYCAT TIME!

Am so doped up on pain meds, I can’t even tell if Retarded Meows of Love would be a good band name or not. FOR SUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!

Later

Just woke up in horrible anxiety. I desperately need to come up with an excellent plan for neutralizing OtherMe before she neutralizes me. Am afraid I will talk in my sleep, and betray that I’ve read her journal entries, and she will decide to accelerate her plans to destroy me.

My thoughts are very confused right now, but here are the top things moiling in my mind:

1. OtherMe and I are DIFFERENT.
   
2. She has lied to me, broken promises to Mom, considered letting me die of spider bite, pummeled me, warped our inspiring Manifesto into something that has psychically damaged hundreds of people, and, oh yeah, threatened to preemptively destroy me.
   
3. I don’t know why I didn’t really think of this before now, but OBVIOUSLY, one of us must be the original Emily, and the other one must be a copy.
   
4. I feel like I’m the original. Though I assume OtherMe probably feels the same. Based on the fact that she is considering getting rid of me.
   
5. There must be a way to tell the original from the copy.
   
6. Unfortunately, I don’t know what that might be. Neither one of us looks blurry around the edges. Though that IS how I feel right now, thanks to pain meds.
   
7. Am very vulnerable right now. Mom signed my cast and I slept right through it. Stupid medication!!! Will try self-hypnosis for the pain instead. Cannot afford to let my guard down at a time like this.
   
8. I realize this is whiny, but I need to whine a little about how wrong it is that the cats have abandoned me NOW, of all times. Before OtherMe was on the scene, if I even
   had so much as a painful hangnail, all four cats would be crawling on me, purring and giving cat sympathy.
   
9. Am noticing unusually high whininess factor. Is this a sign that I am the fake one?
   
10. Mother of Pearl! Have just realized that my recent lack of cat attention is clearly a result of the duplication. What am I, slow? At least they are avoiding OtherMe as well and not just reacting to me being the fake one.
    
11. I had better not be the fake one!!!!!!!!!!!! Am suffering serious identity crisis here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    
12. Just had another one of my lame crying fits. Man, I NEVER used to break down like this before the duplication. Maybe this is more evidence that I am the fake one.
    
13. If
    OtherMe
    EvilMe IS the real one, then I am going to have to revise my general opinion of Emily Strange.
    

Later

It occurred to me to check those tapeworms I duplicated to see if I can tell the original from the duplicate. Mom has been a very good sport and fetched them from Experiment Corner in my bedroom. But unfortunately they look exactly the same to me.

Have given up on scientific inquiry for the moment, and asked the Magic 8 Ball which of us is the real one. Response was “BETTER NOT TELL YOU NOW.” Probably because I am the fake one.

OK, am putting away the Magic 8 Ball. I really need to return
to scientific inquiry and come up with a trustworthy way to tell the real Me from the fake Me!

Later

Mom has just been in to check on me. Conversation went something like this:

M
OM
: So, are you accepting or refusing your meds this hour?

M
E
: Accepting! Accepting!

M: Good. The pain’s been making you awfully cranky.

M
E
: No kidding. Hypnosis, my cheeks! I’ll try it next time I have a hangnail.

M: Hey, did you just crack a joke? That’s progress.

M
E
: Thanks. I’ve been getting pretty bored with my own whininess. Hey, could you do me a favor and bring me a cat? Any cat?

M: No problem.

M
E
: Also, I was thinking it would raise my spirits if we organized some kind of fun family-oriented game. Something along the lines of “This Is Your Life” Jeopardy?

M:…Sure…but…

M
E
: You think the other Emily and I will be perfectly
matched, huh? Well, let’s just say I’m investigating that hypothesis.

Mom is game and has agreed to be the moderator. However, she pointed out that each of us really should write half the questions. I guess she’s right. I mean, if I AM the fake one, I need to know!

Later

Mom has just been in to give me Sabbath. He hissed at me and I held him and petted him until I felt bad for keeping him prisoner, and then he launched himself off my cast, trying madly to get away, and it hurt like a FLUTTERPLACKING PIGBARK.

Things MUST improve tomorrow!

June 18

Day Four on the couch. Since cats will not come near me, I asked Mom to bring me some of the lovely insane stuffed animals I have creatively stitched up over the years. Raided them for body parts and cobbled together a plushy black stuffed cat. It doesn’t
purr or snuggle, but it also doesn’t hiss or flee, so I’m clutching it to my heart for all I’m worth.

Now craft hour is over, and I am currently dying of boredom rather than fear, guilt, and pain. Would like to say it’s an improvement, but it’s not. Tried books and video games, but brain is too fuzzy from medication for those. Tried TV, but EvilMe has sabotaged it. That’s OK, I know it’s too disgustingly stupid even for a brain as fuzzed-out as mine is right now. And watching the news would only drive me into Shame Spiral, Part IV.