The Man With Two Brains

“Oh shit, look at the size of that thing!” Howie exclaimed when he noticed a big red spot on his neck as he looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t usually prone to spots, especially not at his age. He rummaged in the bathroom cabinet to see if there was some sort of skin cream he could dab onto it, but finding nothing suitable, he turned and walked back into the bedroom. It was only a spot, not the end of the world, and Howie figured if he left it alone it would be gone soon enough.

The following morning the spot had become even bigger, much to Howie’s horror. He had a couple of magazine and radio interviews to get through with the other Backstreet Boys and was having to fly across country in just a few hours, he didn’t want images of himself with a huge red angry looking spot plastered on the glossy pages. He wondered whether he should pack a couple of roll neck jumper in his suitcase. That would help disguise it.

Luckily he had multiple roll neck jumpers, so pulled the jumper over his head and made sure the spot was hidden before leaving the house.

“It’s gotta be ninety degrees D, are you insane?” AJ asked.

“You have to ask?” Brian chuckled, teasing his friend.

“I’m fine” Howie replied.

“Well, let’s get this thing over with” Nick put his arm around Howie as they walked in.

When the final interview was over and Howie was alone in his hotel room again, he tore off the jumper and heard a small sigh from close by. He looked around the room, wondering where the sigh had come from, but it was obvious that no one else was in the room. The TV was switched off and he was all alone, but he checked behind the curtains to make sure Nick wasn’t pulling a prank on him.

“I’m imagining things” Howie said to himself and smiled at the absurdity of it. Maybe he’d sighed and hadn’t realised it. Stranger things had happened. It had been a long day after all.

But he wasn’t imagining things.

Over the next couple of days, the spot not only got bigger, but began to develop into what could only be described as a giant boil type thing.

But by the time the boys had wrapped up their promotion and headed home, the spot was no longer just a spot – it was more like a miniature second head with the speed and size it was growing. Howie was glad none of them had noticed, he was teased enough.

Howie was completely freaked out and didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t show his wife, she’d be repulsed and wouldn’t want to sleep with him! Not that he was in the mood for that anyway though. But he’d have to do something quick, it was beginning to get difficult to hide the growth - which was becoming ever more visible - beneath his roll neck jumpers (which he’d had to buy extra of).

But when the ‘thing’ actually started sprouting hair and grew a pair of eyes, a nose and a mouth was when Howie finally lost it.

“Thank fucking god I can finally talk and tell you to stop wearing those ugly roll neck jumpers! I was hot as hell in them and beginning to suffocate!” it said as Howie looked into the mirror at his reflection, completely horrified. “Yeah, I’m talking to you mister” it said, looking him in the eye and winking.

“Who are you whispering to?” his wife called from the bedroom, having heard the ‘thing’ speak and mistake it for Howie.

“Erm…just myself sweetheart” Howie stuttered nervously, hoping she couldn’t walk in and see the monstrous thing which could now not only talk, but move. It was an exact miniature of his own face, just a younger version.

The head just grinned wickedly at him in the mirror.

“How?” Was all Howie could manage to say and continued to stare at the oddity protruding from his neck. How on earth could this be happening to him? People didn’t just grow another head. He knew he’d been a little stressed recently, but he’d been under a lot more pressure in the past and hadn’t lost his marbles. Maybe this growth was just in his imagination. Maybe if he banged his head against the wall a few times and then looked again, it would be gone.

But it wasn’t.

“You’re only gonna knock yourself out buddy…which may be a good thing for me, your wife is a lovely looking woman and I wouldn’t mind banging her, so carry on!” the mini Howie head said.

“You’re just a figment of my imagination, I’m going to pretend you aren’t there” Howie muttered and turned away from the mirror, pulling a roll neck jumper back on to cover the ‘thing’ up.

“Hey, that’s not fair, it’s dark under here” it shouted, but Howie ignored it. If he actually gave in and talked to it, it would mean giving in to the fact that he’d gone crazy.

“I’ve just remembered, I need to go out and get…erm…some milk” Howie ran past Leigh without stopping. He rushed down the stairs, grabbed his wallet and key cars and was out the door before she had a chance to say a word.

“Running away won’t get rid of me, I’m here to stay” the Howie head said once they were in the car. “Man, am I looking forward to getting up to no good!”

“No you are not!” Howie told it, finally snapping and giving in, acknowledging it was there.

“Wanna bet?” it asked, but Howie turned up the car stereo to drown out its voice.

He needed a distraction. So he drove to the nearest bar, parked the car and went inside and ordered a double Jack Daniels on the rocks. Then another. Soon enough, Howie was drunk to the point that he was no longer very coherent.

“Hey there sexy lady, wanna hook up?” the talking head asked a leggy blonde who was stood nearby, waiting to be served by the barman.

The blonde couldn’t believe her luck and had to suppress the inner fan girl. She’d noticed Howie as soon as he walked into the bar, and was quite a fan of the Backstreet Boys, especially Howie and AJ (she had a thing for dark haired men). But never in a million years did she think the happily married Howie would ask her – Melanie Harper – if she wanted to ‘hook up’. Naturally her reply was yes and she moved a little closer, not even caring that she was going to be nothing more than a one nighter for him.

“So where are you gonna take me?” she purred at Howie, trying her best to come across sexy, confident and up for anything.

“What?” Howie slurred, looking up at the blonde who was practically draping herself over him “I’m not taking you anywhere; I’m a happily married man!” He may have been extremely drunk, but no amount of alcohol would’ve tempted him to cheat…especially not with that skank!

“But you just asked me, like two minutes ago!” she exclaimed.

“No I didn’t” Howie protested.

“Yes…you did!” she replied.

“I didn’t say a word to you, now would you please leave me alone” Howie was finding it hard to remain polite with this obviously crazy fan.

“Cock blocker!” the mini head whispered, loud enough for only Howie to hear. Howie groaned and placed his head down on the bar, realising what had happened. He hadn’t managed to silence the ‘thing’ with booze after all. He was just glad the ‘thing’ couldn’t control his body!

“Asshole” she shouted and got up off the bar stool. “I prefer AJ anyway!”

“Nice tits!” the head turned and shouted as she walked away.

Over the next few days, Howie had more embarrassing encounters with the opposite sex. He even had one woman slap him across the face in the street after the ‘thing’ had made lewd comments about her chest. But that wasn’t the worst of it. It was when the head was able to temporarily take over the movements of his body and wanted to get him into as much trouble as possible… and suddenly developed Tourette’s whenever Howie was in a busy place.

He was like a man with two brains!

“Disgraceful” chastised an elderly lady after the ‘thing’ had pinched her bum and called her a whore as Howie queued to pay for his coffee in the local Starbucks. All Howie could do was apologise.

Then the ‘thing’ stuck Howie’s foot out and tripped a tall, well-built muscle man, causing him to fall. Again, Howie hoped his natural charm would prevent any further conflict.

“You’ve got to stop” he begged, hoping the devil on his shoulder would take pity and stop.

“Not a chance, I’m having too much fun!” he laughed.

Leigh was also beginning to suspect things weren’t right when Howie insisted on staying downstairs to watch TV until she was asleep upstairs. That and the fact that when he did go to bed, he insisted on wearing a roll neck jumper and seemed to be talking dirty in his sleep!

“Enough’s enough” he said in the bathroom mirror and contemplated what his options were. Leigh was furious with him and had gone to sleep in the spare room, telling Howie to stay away. If only she knew the truth.

After standing there, staring at his disfigured reflection, he figured his options were a) he could go to the doctor and be prodded about and paraded around like some kind of circus freak…or b) he could take matters into his own hands.

He opted for the latter and went downstairs to get a sharp knife from the kitchen, then locked himself back in the bathroom.

“No, you can’t!” the head said in alarm as Howie lifted the knife. It started giving him puppy dog eyes and then shed a few crocodile tears, thinking the mild mannered Howie wouldn’t actually go through with it.

Howie felt his resolve slipping. But when he thought of Leigh asleep in another room, he knew what he had to do.

He began slicing at his neck slowly. The mini Howie howled in pain, but that didn’t deter him. Seeing the blood begin to trickle down his neck didn’t stop him either as he continued butchering the ‘thing’ which had caused him so much trouble since appearing.

But somehow the mini Howie managed to take control of his body. The knife slipped and tore through Howie’s jugular, causing blood to escape like water from a fountain. He tried to call for help, but the only noise to come out was a bloody gurgle.

As his life slipped away, he wished he’d gone for the other option.