Igor

Igor went to the butcher shop and ordered a calfs head for the Sabbath and went to clean it in the garage.

When he had been done with that for a while he began to get thoughts in his head. So he walked out onto the pavement and looked around for action. There was none.

He went back inside, and looked at the goats head. He closed the door.

There was a noise. It distracted him. Outside life went about its day.

Is the goat’s head a symbol for Wiccan or Satanic worship?


Igor turned around and saw the Laughing Buddha statue which someone somehow had snuck into his living room. . It seemed to have come to life before Igor’s very eyes. . It was laughing in such a creepy, menacing way at him. Creepy for Igor? Yeeeeeessssssss. Buddha’s roly-poly belly was shaking with such gusto that it sent fear into Igor’s heart, so much fear that he could feel his spine tingling as though it was going to burst open. The skin on his feet felt like such a terrible burning that he was forced to run screaming in agony into his bathtub to run the coldest water he could feel upon his feet to soothe them but alas there was no soothing to be had and his feet burned and turned the brightest crimson. Igor cried out in terror.

Somewhere in his mind he could hear the goat’s head speaking to him, filled with such disgust for what he had done. He couldn’t understand his words, but the lips were moving in such a grotesque and sinister way. The goat opened up his mouth and this great tongue flung out and wrapped itself around Igor’s neck. Igor screamed for help and mercy but none came.

The Buddha laughed his demon-like laugh. He roared, almost it seemed, spitting out the words: : "Now do you understand how swiftly love can turn to evil. Your despicable actions, your cruel, gluttonous behavior has turned the angelic spirit within me to a demon.

Igor had never seemed to be so frightened in his life. He managed to untangle himself from the goat’s hideous tongue by stabbing it with a knife he kept in his pocket for doing his ungodly evil deeds . He ran out of the house into the night screaming in holy terror. “I’ll change, I’ll change”, he said, his heart beating like a run-away train. Unbeknownst to Igor. the Count stood on the roof laughing til he turned blue in the face, which for that guy, the Count, was quite the rare happening. He saw Igor huffing and puffing as he ran down the hill, half running, half falling over. It felt to Igor as though his brain might explode into a million little pieces.

Then Igor found himself hiding behind this magnifient large rock, large enough indeed to hide him from the monstrous Buddha and the bodiless goat. Once he had calmed down and felt such a wonderful false security entering into him - is there really any othere kind? - he then thought to himself: "No way am I going to change. I got away from him this time, I will again. Next time I will be ready for him. Does he really think that he can scare me? Me Igor?! Hee hee hee hee hee hee.

Then Igor decided to lay down and he took a nap - such a nice nap in the arms of sweet Denial. Ah, but then - then - the Matrix found him, slithered up to him and closed in pulling him in - in - in but oh what a Matrix it was – a deep, dark, slimy abyss with snakes curling their bodies around him, suffocating him, choking the very life out of him it seemed. The bats chewed on his ears, chewed so hungrily and greedily, lapping up the blood which streamed from Igor’s ears, which gave them such renewed energy, spirit and hedonistic satisfaction.

Then Igor could hear nothing more - save for the slightest chilling whispering that came to him, it seemed, out of nowhere. "No, you won’t. No, you won’t." You Fool of Fools!

And Count Dracula could be heard giggling in the distance.

A nice demonstration…

Begin a reponse with So….
follow this with an argument that includes things not said by the other person.
Then strut as if one had performed a relevent reductio ad absurdum or retort.

Wannabe politicians take note: the spin doctor is giving lessons.

I think Igor is into a whole different kind of Sabbath.

I just watch.

A real man is into only one kind of sabbath, and that’s a Black Sabbath :music-rockon:

What other type of Sabbath would Igor be observing? He cleans the goatskull of its flesh, nails it to a wall, falls down and worships all things contrary to Christian hope in ideals. Meanwhile the noise outside is oblivious to his careful worship. Which is the real world? The doings inside the garage or the lack of relevance to those outside the garage? Aren’t both real in some sense?

Igor falls prostrate before the goat head. His prone body is in the shape of a cross. Or he lies like an ankh and Satan is the Sun.

I had premonitions of a darker kind of worship. But Igor himself is in doubt now.

Maybe he is only as compulsive as a Satanist. It could still happen for him. Normal life.

Which is life that is not in all respects bizarre.

The next day Igor goes to the toolshed, alone. He has a picture of a sheep on the wall. He does not know why.

Sharpening his axe, Igor talks to it. He says; we’ll fell us a big one now, do the real thing. Make a real thud. Get the earth shaking. Stir up the lazy dust.
Igors passions ran deep, sprouted by ancestors who crawled out of the deep, were once there were things man as long, long forgotten, or he could not bear to exist…
Now, we see this attitude in apparently simple men; men of deep and dark souls who find expression in blatant handiwork and the bedroom where they shape their things.

The sunflowers in the field turned their spooky path.

You see spooky in sunflowers? I always think “transcendence” when I see them. They are awesome.
Their so-called spooky path is simply a dance to the sun.
But i know that you’re waxing poetic. I need to learn to dive into the dark side more. :laughing:

Or I suppose that If you see a meadow of them, you could think “herd”. It all depends on one’s perspective.

But then Igor had a turnabout. He decided to take his axe and go outside and chop up some wood, lots of wood, to put in the fireplace to create a nice warm fire. He began to really think things out at that time - chopping wood is such a marvelous zen act. He was able to bring in all of the wood which he chopped as he is so strong, despite his limp.

He placed some of it in the fire, lit a match and watched as it began to create a nice cozy fire. As he watched its flames, he reflected on his life and the direction in which he wanted it to go. He thought to himself: "How nice it is to think for a change instead of just using what little bit of mind I have for wreacking havoc and doing as I am told to do. I do not have to be a slave. I do not have to follow the maddening crowd, the insane herd. I will just sit here and contemplate my life, my world, and what i can do to change it. Let others create the chaos, the bedlam. I shall be the one to stamp it out. Aye, this I will affirm. Aye.

As Igor looked out of the window, he saw the divine sunflowers as they stretched their selves toward the sun. He thought “transcendent”. “Now where did that word come from” he thought to himself.

Finally, he fell asleep and dreamed of Chiron galloping happily along and of Hercules trying to catch up.

And then he woke and then he swallowed hard cause he heard noises next door. Frank was yelling to Stein something about a great looking man who turned to dog and said what’s that in your lapel a sunflower? Meanwhile the the Swiss Alps remained as before rustic and aloofly distant echoing same o
Same old. Nothing ever happens in Turin except some unholy horse whipping .

Igor looked down the street and noticed the prosession from afar. “Now what is this all about”, he questioned to himself. Why do these silly humans have one procession after another. Isn’t it enough to simply process within the mind? He giggled to himself, but such a giggle that to others, was quite ominous and threatening.

Then lo and behold, as it came closer, he saw all of the priestly garbs and the men, women and children walking after something which they seemed to hold in such high regard even reverenently so. He heard someone whisper next to him “It’s the Shroud of Turn”. It’s the divine impression of Christ’s face lingering through the centuries. “You must bow down as it passes by”. “I shall not bow down to something which I do not believe in but I shall be respectful toward the beliefs of others.”

As the Shroud of Turin made its way past him, he began to feel the strangest sensation crawling up and down his back and then creeping down his legs to the end of his toes. “Oooooooooooooooooooooo”, Igor groaned. “What was that? So so spooky”.

“Nah”, he said, shaking his head. “Just the power of suggestion and I’ve been primed.” “Huh?” he thought to himself. Who said that? as he scrached his head wonderingly.

“I’m going home to chop more wood” said Igor as he ran off like a bat out of hell.

Igor sees the traffic outside and wonders how it relates to the traffic in his head.
“I’m a hungry another,” he said, wishing to be fed,
Praying to the sunflower for certainty, he gives an enormous sigh.
Let the parade go by.

The traffic in his mind doesen’t correspond to the traffic on the road as a chauvinistic female with outstanding fangs cuts him off suddenly yelling at him with vengeance filled road rage.

He is likewise filled with hate and loathing, but trancendentally caressing the pretty sunflower he repeats in this murmuring sutra: I shall not hate, I shall not hate. Then suddenly flooring his pedal to the m
etal, he forgets the mantra and screeches his
supercharged bug and passingly leers at the now diminished female.

Then he remembers the reason behind his chagrin: He is due at the laboratory with stein and Frankie,

who are just up from Langley, having been briefed
On artificial life forms as assessed by captured aliens
at area 54.

They are X cited about the monetary rewards of
creating pods of cloned aliens to infiltrate Isis and
other terrorist organizations. Imagine Igor in this vast project, it will really propel him from being a mere assistant.

The reader, her spectacles lurched high on her brows, picks up the manuscript with a haughty gesture, her

Velvety voice reflecting a throaty allusion to her ‘having been around the block in more ways then one’, decides, that his stuff is merely rubbish, not really fixed to reality.

'This stuff, really, may not be too much of a attention
getter, ’ she exclaims, ending in a sigh.

Then Igor goes on the offensive, his face suddenly turning a color of this side of green.

'But I tell you, it’s very real, these captured aliens are dying out and franke told me the dia is very concerned that with their extinction, a whole era of paranoia may come to a screeching halt. There is a real need to mass produce pods, because, they will become the real backbone of the military, all men having lost the taste for war. They printed a manifesto, declaring the very real need to make love, not war. The situation has become critical. The Reds, the old guard, knows this, Putin is winning a geopolitical war, full well having been briefed.

And he feels rejected, as his throws his MS into the roaring fire.He feels personally sighted, but his travails, after all are the result of Mary oh oh so contrary.

Whereupon, and with disgust, he seeks solace at the altar of the dead.

'Mind Your manners, young man, remember which way, the lonely one Don Juan sought his release.

Igor goes back to the job of rolling the stone up the hill. After all, Camus says he is happy doing so.

Second that. What other choice is there? Roll it up happily or unhappily. Do You know how much more work it takes to roll it up unhappily, then happily?
Might as well do it happily.

Second that. What other choice is there? Roll it up happily or unhappily. Do You know how much more work it takes to roll it up unhappily, then happily?
Might as well do it happily.