"Not if you're me, bucko! If I want dumb ideas, I can make up my own!"
"Ridiculous," the doppelganger snapped. "At least / trust my own instincts!"
"Oh, yeah? How about mine?"
"Of course not!"
"Then you can't trust your own."
The doppelganger started to answer, shoaled on the logic, and froze with his mouth open. After a few moments, he closed his jaw and nodded. "Point to you. How's it feel to be one horn of a dilemma?"
"Makes me feel like wanting to blow," Rod admitted.
"Not a bad idea." The doppelganger turned away, brushing past Rod and hurrying on down the trail. "Let's go."
Rod lifted his head with a smile. "Yeah. Not a bad idea is right." He jumped to catch up.
As they plodded along through the snow with Fess behind, Rod offered, "This is going to get a little confusing. What're we going to call each other?"
"How about, 'Hey, you'?"
"Well, it certainly beats 'Hey, me.' Look, I could be Rod, and you…"
"Hold it left there." The doppelganger stopped, holding out a hand, palm up. "/ could be 'Rod.' "
"I see your point." Rod frowned. "Won't work, will it? Well, we have twenty middle names—can't we manage something with that?"
The doppelganger nodded. "Nice idea. Any preference?"
"Yeah." Rod grinned. "I'll be 'Rod,' and you can be 'Rodney.' "
The doppelganger winced. "You know I always hated that name!"
"But you did like your ancestor's version."
"True," the doppelganger mused. "I've always been partial to 'Roderick.' "
"Fine by me—you can be 'Roderick,' and I'll be 'Rodney'—but 'Rod' for short, of course." He turned away down the road.
The doppelganger gave him a dubious look as he fell into step beside him. "How come I feel like I came out on the short end, this time?"
"Just overly sensitive," Rod said breezily. "You know we've always been a little paranoid."
"True enough," the doppelganger said. Then his face cleared. "I know! Tomorrow we'll change names! How's that sound?"
"If you must." Rod sighed, then came to a halt, frowning. "Hey! How come we're walking when we could ride?"
"Good point." His other self turned back to Fess. "You don't mind carrying double, do you, old horse?"
"Not at all, Rod," the robot said, and stepped forward.
"We'll take turns in the saddle, of course," Rod noted as the doppelganger mounted.
"Oh, of course." The doppelganger shook the reins and clucked to the horse, and they rode off down the road, with the saddle empty and Fess speculating on the exact nature of the delusion that was causing Rod to ride pillion.
The trail led along the river, then forked. Rod stopped. "I'd just as soon not go into town right now."
The doppelganger grinned. "Don't trust yourself, eh?"
"Not at all. I mean, it looks like a very nice, quiet little village from here, but who knows what it'll appear to be once I get there?"
"I could go ahead and scout it out," the doppelganger offered.
"Great!" Rod saw a chance to get rid of his other self. "I'll ride around and meet you on the far side."
"Fine. And speaking of meat, I'll stop by the tavern and get you some lunch."
"There's a tavern there?"
"Well, I saw a green bush hanging from a sign bracket, and I don't think it was a florist's."
Rod was tempted, but the thought of dumping his unwanted companion was stronger than the urge for hearth and ale. "I'll be obliged."
The doppelganger grinned. "I know." They both dismounted; he turned away and struck out toward the town.
Rod turned, too, toward the woods—and stopped, one foot in the air. He looked back to see what was holding him, but couldn't see anything—except for his doppel-ganger, stuck in the same pose, apparently straining against it with all his might. Rod lunged toward the wood, exerting every iota of willpower in an attempt to put his foot down—but he couldn't move an inch. "Fess—how come I can't go on?"
"There is no physical cause, Rod."
"Meaning it's psychosomatic. But I need to keep going." Rod turned back to the doppelganger, just as he turned to look at him.
"Something there is that does not like a stall," he said.
Rod winced. "Don't talk about Fess that way."
"I didn't," his double assured him. "It's pretty obvious that something doesn't want us parted."
"Have a heart!"
"I do. So do you, in fact. And something wants the union of true hearts to be preserved."
"You mean I can't get rid of you."
"Hey! Look at it from my side—I can't get away from you!''
"Well, what must be, must be." Rod sighed. "I guess we travel together, or not at all. Come on, let's go."
"And I had my skin all set for heat," the doppelganger griped. "But I have to admit, a hike through the woods is safer than letting you into a town."
Rod scowled. "And are you so much safer than I am?"
"Oh, infinitely safer! You think I'm a figment of your subconscious, don't you?"
"Well…"
"Right. And whoever heard of a mere figment doing any damage?"
"Ever hear of Willy Loman?" Rod jibed. "But I take your point—hopefully on my shield. Come on, let's go."
They did.
They'd been traveling about half an hour when they heard the roar. They jumped for cover, but it was too late. Pounding feet came thundering up to their thicket. "I see yuh, I see yuh!" bellowed a sub-basso. "Come on out and fight like a man!"
"Oh, don't be so tiresome!" a more mellow voice said. "They weren't hurting you in the slightest."
"Shut up, goody-goody! Awright, come out with your hands up!"
Rod came, sword first.
The monster backed away from the point, its snout wrinkling in consternation. "Hey, now! You ain't supposed to fight back!"
"No more than you can expect," the other voice said.
"You shaddup!"
It was a two-headed monster, like a very fat dragon with a rhinoceros's tail and elephant's feet—and it was puce with yellow polka dots. Rod took one look at it and was certain his hallucinations came courtesy of his subconscious.
"I will not shut up," the other head said. "After all, you're trying to threaten them with my body, too."
"My body! You only control the right half!"
"So I do." The right-hand head turned to the two Rods. "I'll have to ask you to pardon this intrusion; I didn't really have much choice in the matter. You can call me 'Dexter.' "
"You don't look very dextrous," the doppelganger pointed out.
It didn't, but the right-hand head did have a pleasant, though bothered, look about it, in spite of being mostly snout and teeth. Its companion head, though, managed to have a sneaky, predatory look with exactly the same features. "Don't you dare call me 'Sinister'!" It swiveled to glare at Rod. "I'll bite off your head! I'll roast you alive!"
"It's been tried." For some reason, Rod was taking a dislike to Sinister. He hefted his blade. "If you think you can argue with cold steel, go ahead and try."
"Cold steel! I'll melt that tin toothpick down into slag!" But Sinister didn't seem eager to try.
"I take it you had some reason for coming up to us," the doppelganger said.
"Reason! Yeah! I'm hungry!"
"Now, Sinister," Dexter murmured, "you know we discussed this."
"Disgusted, maybe! Now, look, Dex, you're gonna follow my lead this time, or I'm gonna fry you to a crisp!"
"I'm sorry, Sinister," Dexter said in a very low voice, "but I absolutely will have nothing to do with this charade." He turned to the two Rods. "You really should hurry on by. This can't be very pleasant for you."
"Right." The doppelganger turned to go.