The duality of Raoul

It has been said that in the late hours of an undeniably nameless day, the residency of an unbelievably lonely character, living under the most evidently usurped name of Raoul, was attacked quite shamelessly by a man claiming himself to be him, which is to say, Raoul. 

Arguably giving him (Raoul) the benefit of the doubt, the concerned authorities authorised the authorisation of a theatrical debate between the two undisputed, unique Raouls, which was viewed coincidentally by an audience of over four poorly qualified creatures: a large asthmatic fish, an armoured bug, a bird’s fossil remains, a depressive jellyfish, and alas… an elephant’s volatile ghost.

Common decency should state that the previously mentioned contenders (Raoul) had trouble agreeing on the authenticity of their audience’s animalistic identity (particularly the depressive jellyfish). But Raoul and his attacker did agree to keep their violent but nonetheless charming ‘rendez-vous’ regular until something would become clear.

So the man (Raoul) stoically stayed home and tried to unite, as politely as possible. However, it was only just before his ‘night-night-sleep-tight-don’t-let-the-bed-bugs-bite’ catatonic routine that he (Raoul, not the other one) understood the overwhelming implications of his duality: one calls for two, which calls for three, which usually calls for four, and so forth and so on…

The vision of this fascinating, imaginary crowd of Raouls emboldened the sovereign fractions of his will, as he set out to explore the complex data of his dreams and nightmares.

The journey was interesting.

Well, so it was said.

But I didn’t see it.

Sincerely