The Duplicate by Ron Koppelberger

The Duplicate by Ron Koppelberger

Whispered, informed on and betrayed by an ordeal in soul stirring fate, the Events were in revolutionary vogue, told by the discourse of treason and bitter overthrow. The half sleeping dream of power told with rough hewn hands and angry command, spoke volumes in the halls of time, the point between what lays in wait for unsuspecting commanders and what allays the wont of the serpent. All in all the endeavor was an amusing balance of both skill and fateful consideration, a sensible hocus pocus. The magic of change and a telling of what lay beneath the two week old growth of stubble, the secret behind the unruly beard.

His unshaven face and the promise of the blade sang songs of clean shaven rapture and freedom. He had planned the coo for a year and a half, he now possessed the intellect of his predecessor, and assisted by his confidants, his confederates in the democratic revolutionary guard, Toledo found the prospect of overthrow a promising task.

Pierre had the rule, amorphous and led by the happenstance of look-alikes and imitators the secret twins and his brotherhood of misdirection were his salvation and his downfall. He had stepped into the darkness of the palace pantry, Toledo Steed remembered nervously, a can of prepared, precooked beans in his grasp. Toledo had been in secret observation from deep within the confines of the food stores. Pierre had leaned back against the pantry shelf for a moment, scratching his beard and mumbling. Toledo had surged forward swiftly and like a Falcon his talons found the soft pulsing flesh of the commanders throat.

It had been a wranglers parley and in the end Toledo walked out of the pantry wearing the full military garb of Pierre De La Marmoreal.

As he shaved the stubble from his chin a delicate tendril of steam rose up from the can of shaving crème. Toledo sniffed, a pungent aroma and a cloying stench filled his senses with an overwhelming dread.

He dropped the can, why hadn’t he thought? The can had been sealed by a plastic band. Toledo grabbed his chest as the contaminated crème did it’s magic.
Later there would be some confusion. They would discover two identical bodies and in precedent there would be two coffins at Pierre’s funeral, No one ventured or dared to ask why.