Registered Property

0715. Commuter train to hell Milton Keynes, more precisely.

Life appended to a master that hates me, my temple renders a
mysterious itch while I contemplate a sex-life that borders on
chaste.
As I stare out of the window pondering creationism and all
creatures great and small I catch sight of myself: rather, a man my
doppelganger.
I stagger into the office, said itch unbearable.
Doppelganger etiquette says I should be dead by now.
Peering into the mirror, two bloodshot slits meet mine.
I scratch my skull and a flap of skin peels back.
Letters?
Consonant please, Carol.
MVowel, if youd be so kind.
AConsonant. Vowel.
D-E-
Im as aghast as when the conundrum read MINGE. But my board
reads: ANIHC NI EDAM.
Apparently, God is a seven-year-old sweatshop worker. Revelation:
Im a clone.
And all I can think of is how I ended up in Milton Keynes.