Igor

[Ierrellus]

Igor entered the tavern and sat at the bar between two burly men, one of whom blurted out, "You lost?" Remembering he had a heart, he responded, " I may not know the way, but I'm never lost." Whereupon one of the men by him grunted," And you were never found either!"
Igor let the insult pass. He knew better and felt better for knowing someone somewhere was looking just for him. Was it a lady?

[Meno_]

And Igor, who by now had become limp with existential exhaustion, has it not been for hisntolerance to alcohol after Dracula's genes had permeates his with incredible resiliency,
sighed, said this to them:



True loosing everything is almost totally devastating, recovery is almost nil, still there is something to say for the validity of survival and its modicum of benefits.

That such casualness he is purporting to exhibit, displays remarkable gumption.

I will never give up, he announces dramatically, until a breath of air remains in my breast.

With that, he directs the two guys to pay his barbill, which, for being goodfellas they oblige to do, albeit reluctantly.

The dawn reveals the beginning of an orange hue bleeding into the edges of the horizon..and the shadow of a beguiling shrouded woman cast an eery shadow on the tavern bar, reminiscent of noir of the late forties. He fled under a hidden arch, thinking back, going through a list of people he may have tangled with.

The two guys who paid for his drink, shouted over, Next time you pay for Your own drinks bud, or ask Terry to tell the boss to extend credit, he says you've been hanging around the waterfront bars long enough. And as they exclaimed this. Igor leered and turned where the mysterious appearance of the shrouded woman became the focal point of something bizarre and terrifying going on.

[Jakob]

Igor found himself in a hole.
- Damn. Again?
He starts ramming the coffin wall and knows he will get out with reversed gravity and land on top of the Eiffel Tower.
He is so bored with this dream.
He decides to not try to escape, and just turn around in his coffin.
And then.... he sees a passageway. With an anchor in it, gleaming like a pornographic video game abject petit a and much $hine, so hey, he packs the cup and jumps the cusp and just lands there, in the meadow.

Now, a brown cow comes nigh.
- How now, pale sir?
- Well, you must know, I don't talk to cows.
The cow shrugs.
- That is what you say.

[Meno_]

And Igor says good might for iit has been a busy night and he is exhausted for he has become he thinks now behumbled and speechless.

[Fixed Cross]

Igor woke up in a puddle of his own watchamacall it.
Who knows.
He stood in the refrigerated tramcar and went on his way.
Ca-cling said the tramcar
It was Vienna
he awoke
he ate a grape
and went back to bed.

Now, Igor woke again. We wander to the back of the couch where his book lay.
He went to sit agains the law arched windowsill and overlooked the graveyard.
He then read the book, about dinosaurs. He was 3.

He awoke, and went to bed, where he had Candy and she went to bed with him but it was too late they already had a child.
They awoke and she looked at the light streaming in, for it was Christmas.

He awoke, and it was bad timing. It was bed time.

[Meno_]

Ahhhhhj those Viennese Christmases with boys serenading angelic voices they knew he was there no less the Viennese Boys' choir singing stille nacht and she candy darling gobbling a delicious bon bon. They did have the kid but he was strange oh so strange he was outwardly cute with dimples but when he bit her ample bosom spewed blood as his strange
elongated incisors more animal like then any human baby should have ,and Candy shrieked ,thinking to herself that this is more then she should have to tolerate. And Igor eyeing the cemetery for repose.

She should have listened to daddy . she tried to think with her racing mind.

[Meno_]

The Ring. And Igor remained in the dark thinking self destruction may not be a conscious thing with him, he went along on a daily crucifiction routine stealing insignificant worthless junk quite noticeably so they whoever watched him may think he has no way out from the excoriating stab of intrusive looks.

Those became the very thrusts which forged doubt into a presage of quite certainty as it were as venomous as his sexual obsession with calves, and its not that he wasn't an inwardly kind man

He became prolific in focusing that look full understanding among those he thought unforgiving, after all writing with blood his own when not mixed with the unrequited brother, oh no no for givenness there but blood flowed into tears, can not he let go of one who must think , of him, that through no fault of his own compelled to steal others' thoughts and seal it eternally.

And to his chagrin the loop was completed and the circle of love connected. Transfigured, he solemnly accepted a measure of kindness.

[Meno_]

And then the irony he igor thinking that the subtlesess inherent in the crossed wire implication that this was just another computerized senseless anagram. as if it had not been impressed of the near total conversion into the mindless automata that he has become unwary of crossed motives, knowing they were as mindless, but not of lacking of feelings as well, which has benumbed of any reason to short circuit the apparent collection of equally apparent lack of synthesis.

This having been bypassed just recently, it has become obvious to him that it has not yet been correlated nor factored in to the grand scheme of things but give him time and he igor will do so.

He dropped his girlfriend and his child almost as in a hindsight and resolved not to try to beat it meaning his conscience by offering a tribute of a very large diamond of exceptional color and clarity into her whispering fingers.She sought help unheard by no one from the holy mother, as she held on to the baby, and she boarded the bus to Jerusalem.

His eyes traced the ever diminishing size of the bus , leaving a long grey trace of dust on the desert road, and imagined himself as would in the false perception of a cut, a still of a moments capture; as feigning indifference.

No, he thought, that broken, would mean the end of the story.
But that is only a fragment of a look back into their uncertain future together becoming a myth, even before it could approach any kind of real apprehension.

Good by Sifi which was his term of endearment for Sofia , and it was breathed out rather then whispered into the great big deserted sheltering sky.

[Fixed Cross]

The fresh juice he could miss. But not really. But the eggs, no he could really not miss that. It was cold. Cold outside, warm inside, the worst.
So he claimed to be on top of things and went along his way.

A van was parked in a nearby street. He reminded this van.

Trust, he remembered, have trust, in faith.
But a squirrels hoppeth along the vertical line for no vain purpose!!!

The squirrel and the crow they disagreed to agree, I learned, the hard way.

Well, now on to the outside world. Igor met his butcher and had a calf cut up for his grandfathers grave.
As he was burning the sacrifice and pouring wine he learned from the clouds that Socrates was back, and more poison had to be devised.

He stood up from the grave of his ancestor and gorged on a piece of dripping meat, with the wine, it was pretty good and he got into his BMW and went southwards. He then stood before a stoplight in the middle of nowhere where it was hot.

[Meno_]

He thought of his woman in Jerusalem, who had gone for good for a while at least. The sights and sounds of old Vienna sprung out of nowhere, and he skipped hopped from one becket cubicle as if he was still back THERE.

Overcoming no obstacles too large, sheepishly grinning at adversaries formidable and not so, infusing the orange juice making music splendor out of cheap champagne.

And after tomorrow the jet delivers him back off the asphalt jungle into the vapid heat of oriental magicke.

Jerusalem's hills like the olive groves of old Athens, steamy and ludicrous, with hints of upward track, the palace of Cesar high in the hills of Capri, and the mount if olives against Magic Mountain.

Jerusalem of old, the slavery of patrimony, now shrunken phallus athena's woes. Walhalla and Ubersaltzburg, castles in the sky, where spirit enters through the rear, the ass of the world emitting lavender and purification.

Igor sad, sadder, saddest at this time of rejuvenation. Has to re member, or dismember that proud arching desire toward the sun.

[Fixed Cross]

Igor suddenly remembered Peter Schmeichl. Oh man. What a great goalie. What a great athlete. What code that player has. No footballer ever since him. I mean, did the things, for which one is supposed to get all the million. Quality.

Igor snickered as he approached the military plane that had just packed its load. The propellors began to turn as Igor lifted himself into the rear of the rather old fashioned piece of machinery, if you asked him, to perform such duties but maybe it was a decoy. Like camouflage. Use a 55 year old plane to transport 2 billion in cash. Thank god Igor had taken a restroom stop on the mc Donald's on the way. Because to tell you the truth, this was a hell of a operation. You cannot take an elephant on an airplane. But Igor is no elephant. Igor thought to himself.