Michael D. Davis.

For two years in middle school, I thought I went to school with a boy named Beyonce. I believe it’s safe to say I misheard his name.

I don’t remember when I learned or thought I learned my pupil’s name was Beyonce, but I specifically remember when I found out that wasn’t his name. Before I go any further I must say though, in my defense, I thought it was plausible because that is someone’s name. I mean is there only one Cher, one Madonna, one Fabio in the world? There have to be other people with these names, I thought.

So, for two years, I go to school with this guy and I think his name is Beyonce. For two years I passed him in the hallway, had conversations, everything. The only thing is I don’t use a lot of people’s names, instead opting for ‘Hey Dude,’ or something similar. Then one day, we are standing outside after school. We are having a conversation and I decide to end it with, “Well, you have a good one, Beyonce.”

He gave me the strangest look and asked me what I just called him. I immediately knew his name wasn’t Beyonce and something in me withered. I then mumbled something and got out of there. We never spoke again.

Hearing things wrong seems to be a trend with me and the household. One of my favorite Disney movies is The Emperor’s New Groove, and there is a scene towards the beginning of the movie right after Kuzco gets turned into a llama. Pacha gets back home and starts unpacking his cart, when out pops a disoriented llamafied Kuzco from a sack. For more than two decades, it was me and my Ma’s belief that Pacha yells out, “Thievin’ llama.” That was until a year or two ago, when my sister corrected us and said he yells, “Demon llama.” I don’t know, I’ve spent more than 20 years thinking he said “Thievin'” that I refuse to be corrected.

My sister loves to correct me, and well anyone, when it comes to this stuff. Another decades-long mishearing that she corrected dealt with a classic song. For as long as I can remember, I thought Pete Townsend wanted MILO to open the door. I didn’t know the name of the song. I never Googled it, but I heard it over, and over again. The song may be entitled, ‘Let My Love Open The Door,’ but I swear to God that song is about a guy named Milo.

I swear this keeps happening to us. For example, a week or two ago Ma asked my sister to go to the store. My sister said sure and my Ma told her what she wanted. Among other items, Ma wanted some sandwich bread.

Later, after my sister gets back, Ma goes to the kitchen and doesn’t find any bread in sight. Opening up the fridge, Ma finds a large container of sandwich spread. Ma says she said bread, my sister says she said spread, neither back down on this.

I believe this happened two weeks ago and it is still a subject that comes up nearly daily. For my Ma, the subject comes up even more often because she will be sitting there in silence, watching TV, and then whisper to herself, “Sandwich bread, sandwich spread, sandwich bread, sandwich spread,” attempting to debunk my sister’s notion that they sound alike. Sandwich bread, sandwich spread, sandwich bread, sandwich spread.