"Today has been so messed up."
Chris Paul plopped down on his couch with a thud and rolled over into the fetal position.
That day had been a busy day: first basketball practice at the Clippers training facility, then going to the doctor with his twin brother Cliff, and then some State Farm meet and greet with his brother.
Chris' brother looked worse every day. When he had first taken ill, Chris insisted that he move in right away. After all, Chris lived in a 7 bedroom mansion, while Cliff shared a studio with a graduate student in downtown LA. Cliff had objected, "Really, I'll be fine in my place." But Chris wouldn't take "no" for an answer.
And so Cliff had moved in. He was pretty quiet, kept his room neat, and was a pretty easy houseguest to have. But his sickness manifested itself in these episodes: fits of shaking, coughing, intense headaches.
Chris couldn't help but worry. He would constantly offer to get Cliff some orange juice, or get him a massage. But Cliff would just shake his head and go back to his room. Until one day he said "okay, orange juice and a massage would be nice."
And so Chris began to rub Cliff's shoulders.
Cliff started "We're brothers..."
Chris interrupted, "Right!"
"...let me say what I've got to say." Cliff sounded different.
Chris understood that this was serious.
"Do you remember Mom and Dad?"
Chris thought for a moment. "Our actual birth parents? No...but we have those pictures..."
Cliff grimaced and let out a lengthy sigh, "I got those pictures from a Target photo frame. It even has the Target logo on the photo, Chris."
Chris pretended he had always noticed that.
"The truth is...we're not brothers. I mean...why would we even have the same last name if we were separated at birth? One of us would be named something like Cliff Rabinowicz."
Chris stopped massaging the stranger who sat before him. "That's...impossible. You're my brother! We do everything together. We have a connection that I could only have with my brother. What you're saying is insane!"
Cliff nodded, "The connection is real, that's true. Let me tell you a story. There was a man, who worked for State Farm. His name was...Biff. He worked for them as a time traveling problem solver. Anytime someone would sing the magical State Farm jingle, he would come and fix their problems. It was his pride, and his joy. Until one day, he was sent backwards in time on a housecall. Some klutz had thrown a basketball through the windshield of a Lincoln towncar. Only it wasn't just some klutz. It was Biff's younger self."
Chris seemed to be struggling with the story, but Cliff persisted.
"Rule 47 of the State Farm Time/Space Continuum Charter states that field agents must never encounter their former selves. To do so throws the whole balance of time travel out of whack."
Chris had a question: "So what happened to Biff -- he broke the rule..."
"Biff lost his ability to travel through time. He became a flightless bird. Stuck in a time and a place that wasn't his, with a lesser-evolved version of himself. It was like living through his own Hell, every single day."
Chris began tearing up, "That's awful! I feel so bad for that guy! But...Cliff, what does that have to do with us not being brothers?!"
"Chris...Biff's name wasn't Biff. It was....Cliff."
And just then it dawned on Chris. Biff's name was almost he same as Cliff's! They were only a few letters different! Maybe Biff knows why Cliff is saying all these crazy things!
Cliff waited patiently for Chris to get it, but grew tired of waiting after several minutes.
"I am you, Chris. You from the future. We're not brothers because we are the same guy."
Then Chris' head exploded.