An unofficial deed poll moment

Names have been changed to protect the innocent. I will admit as much. That probably means I’m guilty. Which means that I changed my name to protect the guilty, rather than the innocent. Or did I change my name to protect myself because I’m innocent, thereby making myself guilty in the process? I’m confused. I should probably drink more tea.

X met Y in a crowded room of illiterates, hence the brevity of their chosen pseudonyms. X and Y immediately got on like a corpse on fire, mainly because they seemed to stick out like two sore thumbs. But X wasn’t really X, and Y wasn’t Y. Both X and Y felt guilty about their individual deception, but never guessed for a moment that their new best friend could be lying in exactly the same bizarre fashion about their true identity.

Were they con artists? Unlikely. Did they each have the law on their tail? Don’t be ridiculous. Did they owe more money between them than the national debt of several small African countries? Well, possibly. Were there events in each of their pasts that they wished so desperately to forget that they were willing to become someone else in order to black out the memories?

There was a moment’s pause, which hung heavy in the conversation far beyond its actual duration. Eyes met knowingly.

X and Y made a pact based on a principle of never using abbreviated words, and murdered each other in a bloody orgy of violence at the bottom of a deserted well. W and Z lived happily ever after as themselves, but never themselves to anyone else.