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Billy and his sister Twilly were Siamese.
The twin variety, not literally of Siam.
Billy’s forehead was attached to just above his sibling’s coccyx.
“Stop talking behind my back!” said Twilly.
“Well, consider it revenge for putting me in such an awkward position,” retorted Billy with a snort.
This was the everyday ritual for this particular set of Siamese twins. For eighteen long years, Billy had been staring at the cracks in the pavement, while his sister got to look at the stars, clouds and faces. Billy was beginning to resent the state-of-affairs he found himself in. He even began to hate his own flesh and blood. Murderous designs on your Siamese twin; possibly the greatest of all the sins.
Billy only got to see upside his head on special occasions, such as his birthday. For his 18th, his parents hired him a team of body-builders to lift Twilly up horizontally so that he could down a pint to an accompaniment of masculine goading and revelry. To that day, Billy had only ever sunk that one pint of Tetley’s Smoothflow. But he had the taste for more, even if it meant dead Twilly.
The night of beer and curry that followed would start a chain of events that would lead to Billy earning a promotion above Judas in the bad-boy hall of fame.
For this unique duo, there were many acts that we take for granted that, for them, made life a living nightmare. On this occasion, farting was riling Billy. When he farted, people were offended; “how dare he point that thing in my direction and trumpet that unholy smell?” passers-by would complain. But when Twilly did it, nobody noticed at all. The sound was muffled by his face, and the smell was absorbed by his lungs. Twilly seemed the angel, despite having an obvious bowel disorder. Billy now really wanted to terminate his sister and was determined to pay any price.
Billy decided the best way to get rid of his sister was to tie her to a door, then slam it shut. It’d be just like pulling teeth, only this one had a soul. So he set up his evil scheme, but had doubts. “Never mind that!” he thought, although Billy’s conscience was wrestling with his satanic intent.
Then, BAM! The deed was done. Billy had slammed the door, but had done so with too much hellish enthusiasm. He’d ripped of his own head and killed himself. Twilly had been killed, her blood spurting out his neck like a mad fountain.
The twins ended up in heaven together. The angelic Twilly qualified without difficulties, but Billy’s dangling head only just got in by clinging to his sister’s coat tails. “A bit like life on Earth, eh, Billy?” mocked the Heavenly Duty Sergeant. Billy was full of furious frustration at a fart-ridden eternity attached to his sister’s arse.
