Two-Faced

[mead1]

Two-Faced

Every man and woman on earth is two-faced. This is not an exaggeration. We put on visages to get our way. We talk differently to our friends then we do to our mothers. Every one of us has a side they show, and many they don’t. What people fail to realize is that the sides we do not show are people too. They speak, think, and live, even when we do not want them to. The faces we hide cannot merely be turned off at the flick of a switch. We must live with them always.

Marty was a quiet loser.

Sam was a pretentious artist.

Aden was a loud prankster.

Kaine was a maniac with a lust for blood.

Steve was a fairly normal guy. And it is with him the story begins.

Steve was working quietly in his cubicle. His boss needed those TPS reports on his desk in two hours. He typed furiously. The text in front of him grew like a living thing. It branched through diagrams, and jumped from page to page. Steve was a genius at his job. He was an efficiency consultant. Not a very interesting job by any stretch, but he had a passion for it. He essentially told other people how to better do their jobs, and he netted a cool 200,000 a year. As the text flew, his thoughts were elsewhere. Specifically, they were at a table. A table that did not exist outside of his mind. A table with five seats.

A loud dispute had broken out amongst the five. They always made decisions by majority agreement. The boss had offended Sam’s artwork in the cubicle. He wanted revenge. Marty just wanted to post about it on myspace. Sam wanted to steal the boss’ wife. Aden wanted to super-glue the boss’ chair while he went out. Kaine wanted to dismember the boss, and use his entrails to decorate the door of the nearby orphanage. Steve wanted to forget the whole thing and get back to work. Aden and Sam eventually agreed it would be best to make it look like the boss was sleeping with the secretary to the rest of the office, then steal his wife when she heard about it. Steve had bullied Marty into siding with him on continuing the work. Kaine was still steadfast in wanting disembowelment. Normally, Kaine could be persuaded one way or the other, but he was determined today to see what the boss was made of.

Steve finally gave in. He proposed they let him finish the work, then he would leave a forged love note from the boss on the secretary’s desk, and if the opportunity arose, make a move on the wife. That satisfied Aden and Sam. 4/5 was plenty. Steve woke up from the daze. He finished his reports in a hurry.

So Steve set to work appeasing the masses. He opened up a new document, and went about acting like his boss in writing. He put in as many “mhm”s as possible, and made the whole thing rather boring. He proposed the secretary meet him at a bar the following night. He then pulled up an internet Thesaurus and replaced every monosyllabic word possible with larger synonyms. Now it looked right. He printed it, folded it, then forged his boss’ signature. This wasn’t too hard, as he had it on every document he had ever received. He got up, dropped it carefully on the floor near the secretary’s desk, where some curious co-worker was sure to find it, then delivered his reports to the boss.

Steve walked home a few hours later. He lived about a block away, and he didn’t feel the need to drive that short a distance. He checked his watch: 6:34. Twenty-six minutes until Marty time. It was generally agreed upon that Steve should have control most of the time. The other four saw him as the one best fitted to keep food on the table. This control came with the stipulation that the others could call a meeting whenever they saw fit, and he would obey the decision. The other four also got their own hour and a half to do with what they saw fit. If Steve was not home in time, due to work, Marty had to settle with whatever time was left. Everyone except Marty had seen this as totally logical.

So Steve got home to his apartment, locked the door behind him, hung up his nice clothes, and stood naked in the clothing room. He needed a full room to accommodate for five styles, each with clothes to suit them. At seven, Steve was no longer there, and Marty went hunting for some clothes. He pulled out a white T-Shirt and sweat-pants that were a brilliant shade of red. Marty never left the house on his time. He had an internet connection, and that was all he needed.

He hopped into the seat and logged on. He hopped onto Myspace to check his messages. He had lots of friends and they all loved talking to him. He never posted any pictures, of course, that could lead to trouble. On the internet Marty pretended he was his own man. He pretended he was a college student who was currently buffing up in preparation of the football season. He pretended he had a lovely girlfriend named Susan. He pretended to drive a beat-up Mercury Tracer LS. He chatted over AIM with people he would never meet. He played some internet games. Before long, his time was coming to a close. He came out of his fantasy land and stood naked in the clothing room at 8:29.

When Sam woke up, he was excited. He had spent the whole day planning for his time. He threw on some old raggedy clothing bought from goodwill and pulled out his pencils and canvas. Sam only did pencil works. Never in color. He believed he could leave the viewer to interpret the piece more themselves this way. He drew today a portrait. It was a picture of Steve’s boss. The picture was fantastically detailed. Every bit of the pudgy man was created in spectacular likeness. The boss was seated at a tall desk. He was twiddling his thumbs. On his desk lay a stack of papers and a coffee mug. The office looked exactly as it did in real life. Then Sam began work on a figure behind the boss. He labored over this figure. Little more then a shadow, but visible. Poised, with a knife, about a foot behind the boss. The man was Kaine. Sam took offenses to his work very seriously. The picture completed, he placed it in the only free spot in the main hall. The walls of the hall were covered in sketches of all things. Sam didn’t often draw death, but he had a special loathing for the boss. After it was fitted perfectly in the hall, he realized he had only about twenty minutes left. He made himself some coffee and relaxed for about fifteen. He admired his work. Someday, the rest of the world would see it. At 9:59 he stood naked in the clothing room.

Aden awoke and threw on a Hawaiian shirt and some jeans. Tonight he was going to have some fun at the expense of others. He left the apartment, locked it behind him, and went to the bar. The five had agreed that everyone would answer to “Steve” while conscious and in public to avoid complications. Well, Kaine always went by Kaine, but that was his business. Aden pulled one of his favorite props from his pocket: a twenty-dollar bill. Aden took out a pen, scribbled something, then carefully glued it to the floor behind one of the larger men, not terribly well, but glued so it would stick until someone really tried. After doing this, he ordered a drink, and sat down a table away to watch. Some man about his height was the first to see it. The man bent over to pick it up, careful not to disturb the larger man. When it wouldn’t come up, he repositioned himself so he could put more force behind his pull. The man accidently bumped into the large man, who turned around and bellowed “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?” The large man had had just a bit too much to drink that night, all the more fortuitous for Aden. The smaller man smiled and said he was picking up the twenty to return to the large man, who had obviously dropped it, and apologized for bumping into him. The large man looked quizzically at the twenty, pulled it up, and read what was scribbled on the back.

“Hey big fella, I like the way you look, let’s meet tonight at the ridin’ dirty.
-Love Chester”

It should be noted at this point that the “ridin’ dirty” was the city’s largest gay bar. The large man looked at the bill, then at the foolish grinning smaller man. He looked between the two, wondering what would cause the man to think such things about him. Aden left as the first bone-crunching blow landed. He would have stayed to watch more, but his time was running low. He went back to the apartment, locked the door behind him, and stood naked in the clothing room at 11:29.

What Kaine did is Kaine’s business, and his alone.

The Five slept one in the morning. They had to get up at eight the next day to be at work by nine. Seven hours was plenty.
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Ok, so that's the first bit. At this point, the next section will be outlining the birth of one of the personalities. I will leave it up to you guys who it is.

Obviously, Steve is the original, and I'm saving Kaine for last.

Would you like to hear about the creation of Marty, Sam, or Aden?