Me and Hate Man always believed in a lot of that “psychic” stuff. “Supernatural” stuff. The stuff some people consider “superstitions” or the “occult.”
Like, if we were trying to decide: “Should I do this?? Or shouldn’t I do this??”
And at that exact moment a car alarm went off. Or a siren went off.
We’d both conclude:
“I take that as a sign not to do it.”
And we wouldn’t do it.
It didn’t make any sense on a rational, logical level (and both me and Hate Man were fairly rational and logical people with fairly sharp minds).
But we always acknowledged: “There is more in heaven and earth than our philosophy holds.” And we always respected that there was this greater, mysterious Force that was operating in this Universe of ours.
For example, this probably seems stupid to most of you logical, rational types. But both me and Hate Man had “magic numbers.”
His magic number was 12.
My magic number was 26.
And, in one of those odd “coincidences,” I was born on his magic number, September 12.
And he was born on my magic number, September 26.
We always believed that that explained why we got along so well over all the years.
Even as it doesn’t make any logical “sense.”