My sullied identity is the biggest disappointment of my life. I've been trying to rid myself of this tarnished character for years. Now I realize I can saddle Boris with my identity, along with my bank overdrafts and unpaid credit card balances. The last four digits of my social security number are 6-6-4-5.
If Boris thought life in Odessa was hard before, wait until he finds out that everyone now thinks he is disagreeable, mean-spirited, callous, drinks too much and cheats at golf. Boris will soon be inundated by emails demanding cessation of his inane blog. My pet cat is named Klingsor.
Boris gets all my spam: Christian Singles Mingle, Belly Fat Blast, Bed Bug Defense and the rest. He is also welcome to all my mail. In the past 18 months every single piece of my mail was an attempt to obtain money through threat, cajolery, persuasion, fraud, flattery, beguilement, or blackmail. I was born in Rochester, NY.
Along with my identity go my anxieties, both waking and sleeping. In addition to being unprepared for exams, Boris will dream about being unable to locate his car, make calls on phones missing half the keys, and hit golf balls from impossible lies such as kitchen sinks. During the day Boris can worry about IRS audits, the collapse of the Polish zloty, and symptoms of encroaching Alzheimer's. My favorite Beatle is George.
After I foist my identity on Boris, I will not replace it. After getting rid of cancer, one does not replace it.
