Drink off. No idea who would win, but I'm willing to bet that we'd at least have a great time.

I know from experience I'd black out before we even got close to the end, so I wouldn't have to live with the memory of watching my clone die (or vice versa). I'd just remember the good times we had that night: the laughter, the songs, the never-ending inside jokes that got so goddamn annoying to everyone else that they just hoped we'd both hurry up and die.

And maybe we would, and then we get to discover together if we actually have souls and an afterlife they can travel to. Imagine all the spooky shenanigans you could get into with your soul's clone. It'll be like the beginning of a sitcom that will never end, because eternity. A whole eternity of inside jokes that will never get old because there will always be other souls to annoy.

But maybe after a few million years of this we'd realize that we're only avoiding the reality we're stuck in, and the gravity of what that means and what to do from here. Some meaning to all of this might be nice.

So I tell my clone that after some deliberation, I've decided I need to find out who I want to be in this post-life existence and do some serious soul-searching. He decides to tone it down and do the same.

I don't see my soul clone for many millennia, but I have finally found peace and acceptance and sometimes even joy. I hope the same for him, but I'm doubtful since the separation.

One night I'm meditating peacefully alone and I'm slightly interrupted by the sound of ethereal footsteps coming toward me from behind. I float back down so I can stand and face the intruder. It is my soul clone. He says, "My soul-searching mission has come to its fitting end. Yours is the soul I have always seeked. Is mine not yours? Why did we separate for this confusing and painful deed?"

And I respond, "Were you not aware that it is a symbolic search, one we can only find within ourselves?" I realize that now that the only part of us still in existence is our souls, the term could easily become confused in this realm. I should have chosen my words more carefully on the whole soul-searching conversation.

Neither of us is sure of what to say. I shiver, from the cold, the awkwardness, or likely both, and mention that it's a chilly one tonight. Now my soul's clone looks at me with that mischievous twinkle in his eye, and with his big grin across his face he says, "Alpaca hat" and we're both taken over by a fit of laughter bordering the epileptic.

We're gonna be alright after all.