Bryson "Bayless" Parsley

So I have this next door neighbor, her name is Ezra. Ezra moved in maybe two, two and a half months ago. Not sure exactly. But it doesn't matter. The only point in you knowing that is so that you recognize a simple fact: Ezra has lived next door to me for some time.

The first month or so, she called me Bayless. Then, for reasons completly unbeknownst to me, she switched to calling me Bryson. I wrote about this a while back. This is the update.

"Hi, Bryson," she said with utmost sincerity and kindness, again, about two days ago. Ezra always, always smiles at me when she says hello, and it comes across as a real smile, not some "Hiiiiiii, Bryyyyyyson!" smile. I was happy to hear this the other day because it showed that Ezra's friend had kept the secret that I asked her to keep. I want to see how long this can last.

Here is the game:

From now on, whenever Ezra is around, my neighbors have been instructed to address me as Bryson. Without exception.

But what happens when inevitably she hears someone slip up and call you Bayless?

Easy: "Oh, yeah, Bayless is actually my nickname. I don't even remember how I got it; it's what my mom used to call me when I was little. Yeah, most people call me Bryson, but a few do use Bayless."

Boom. It's funny because it could last my entire lifetime. And I would be prepared to go along with this story until the end of it.