Figures of the One Must Go

by Victor Living

  “But that turned you in a different overall direction,” I resumed unruffled.

  “Oh, yes. I see. Even I was a good sportsman, the only big sport present today that’s commercialized for skyrocketing prices. We’re all familiar with the fact that boxers, baseball, and football players make millions. For example, in European clubs, the average soccer player was paid around eight million per season. In my younger years, it wasn’t such an opportunity. The goal was to get my first million before my thirties. Yes, it’s a digit one with six zeroes.”

  After this mention, we both stopped speaking. I knew myself and foretold he wouldn’t give me the keen story. Dad wants something, I examined my thoughts and didn’t mistake.

  “Why are you watching me like a penetrating x-ray, pal? Are you waiting for such a grotesque ex-robber to tell you something without jokes?” he said with a smile.

  “No,” I said without a ruffle. “I am thrilled to know details. You’ve already given many nutty things. We often meet people who sound annoying, but you are exclusive. Go ahead.”

  “Let’s go, but…” Mark stuttered in slight. “Sorry about my status, you’ll get nothing. I can uncover only the consequences of said adventures. Will that be okay?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Don’t worry. Learning about characters was my specialization. For instance, I matched you with a puissant self-confidence, and you are a good listener. Do you play any sports?”

  “Yes, for me it was mandatory in the army.”

  “Oh, it looks you don’t visit the church every week.”

  “Agree, as much to my shame. I go there only on prime holidays.”

  “No problem. You asked if I decide on repentance. No. What did you expect?”

  “No comment, but why are you confused about me bombing you about the invisible and penitence?”

  “Suppose that not only offenders but law-abiding ordinaries don’t succumb to penance drama after things done.”

  “But you are special. Do you think I judge you? No, and yes. Let me explain. When I managed a project, my foreman recommended a person compatible with the weighty position. As we checked the background of the candidate, he showed excellent credentials. But, when I asked for his opinion on a few things, do you know what happened?”

  “Ha-ha, is he an ex-criminal, like me?”

  “No, you are wittier. The man complained about the permanent stress of looking for a job and trying many professions. The ickiest thing was, in a private chat, he told our workers that he had worked as a pimp for a few months.”

  “Has he been arrested or charged?”

  “No. It doesn’t matter. For our company, just the fact that someone involved with such mud caused us to cease employment. And our boss responded, ‘Make him disappear from our site.’ Do you have any questions? I have many about you. The adage doesn’t judge doesn’t work with us. People have already learned that being a coward and not telling the truth costs money. And successful bosses dislike the headache of an unstable worker. Believe it or not, only idiots like me give chances to others who pull themselves into trouble. The rest keep a watchful eye. It begs the question: if a person has been involved in crime, can it be assumed that he is from a risky zone, that he is not secure? Ultimately, we are afraid to use him, as he may not be an adequate man on the job. Do you understand why I still ask for penance? The highest sentiment is that you don’t do it for the creator, you do it for yourself. And you get self-accusation as the self-cleanup, giving you an outlook for the new ability,” I concluded, but understood he wasn’t following me.

  “Okee-do-key,” he answered with a wistful face. “Listen, as we’ve had a long talk, you merited a lesson.”

  “Oh, you will teach me how to screw a donkey?”

  “No,” he said, smirking in an amicable pose. “I’ll tell you about the methods I used. Let’s jump to a motif. First, when you work in a team of bandits, persuade one to trust no one. Second, if you work for ‘Father,’ try to learn more about him. Are you following me? Third, note the yes-man isn’t responsible. It not dishonored but just the mentality. Then, dare to defend your spot—you are not that. Fourth, remember, when a higher task appears, extra dogs watch you as a potential witnesses. Pretend, like you don’t know much. Fifth, if you get in the ensemble, remember, you’re not living as a man anymore. You are part of a machine programmed to bring money and never escape.”

  “Bravo. Super impressive,” I said in total bemusement. “I now have a clue about the horrible rules of felons from one bandit in New York. Unlike you, he narrated a few workable stories about his offenses. Oh, yes, I was in shock, but you are different. I can test you as tight-lipped… Okay, never mind!”

  “I’m greeting you, Vic. Please don’t be disappointed. I appreciate your attitude of saying ditto to my every word. But now, you talk tough. Okay. Skip that. Let’s rethink what rescues me. I’ve always disagreed with veracity as cause to turn away a man’s imagination. In bad or good conditions, I’ve found no spiritual proceeds. Look, if a lousy man injured your eyes, would you stay calm? Or, with a bonny face, you heard, ‘Don’t worry, God will rescue you.’ Once I heard from an idiot demagogue that ‘if you become blind, you will no longer pick up luxury items that corrupt your mind.’ Is that not fantastic, hah? Well done! Isn’t it about the attractiveness of a passive apotheosis?”

  “It clinks not as a rhetorical replica but as the weight of realness.”

  “With everything, it has a direct tie to my life.”

  “Do you want to prove it?” erupted from my mouth as a provocation.

  Within a second Mark gazed at me and responded, “Yes. Suppose one boy, advanced in computers, comes across a couple million dollars that has disappeared from the secret accounts of two bosses for their knavish company. So, who first comes under suspicion? The one, who had key access. So, it’s my friend and his close associate… me. Bingo! Are you interested in what occurred next?”

  “Awful, continue,” I said with dread in mind.

  “Yes, they blamed only us.”

  “So, they chastised both of you?”

  “You’re right. But, because of that event, I handled something new for me. In one peaceful evening in my most wanted bar, I got a few cups of espresso and two shots of whiskey. And later, they knocked me unconscious in the back of a dingy, stinking basement. I found myself handcuffed to a rusty radiator. Then, without a word, someone battered me in an exclusively brutal manner. Was it the end of the world? They told me to double-check. Did I know any details? Listen, I’ve always been in good physical shape, and it was bearable for me. But, I fell into vicious disappointment for why they interrogated me with such inhuman cruelty. They were not comrades of malfeasance but just animals.”

  “I can’t imagine—”

  “Though, my friend kept a leading role in the saga. He knew everything and was tormented for two days. Later, they returned him to my house almost blind,” he continued again.

  “That story blows over like a movie.”

  “That is not a cinema, my friend. It’s my life and a teaser for the brain. Those gunmen’s occupation was to eat, beat, and shoot people or to pick up girls. They lived only for today and had no sorrow about tomorrow. I practiced staying overcautious among such bodies.”

  Now, there was a pause of roughly two minutes. I said nothing. Mark also waited quietly.

  “Thanks for this page.” I broke the silence.

  “Victor, I want to ask you, not as a future educator, but as an innocent spirit. Does there exist a crime for which it is necessary to disable a guy? Had I calmed to endure his deprived vision? No. No. I focused on the one dream—to punish them by the refined take-the-piss method.”

  “I see and recognize such essences. These bulls live in a relentless war against all regular folk. Yes, it sounds like a sundry of freaks.”

  In my last words, he chortled so loud that a young couple, three chairs over, got up and left the bar.

  “Sorry. Please don’t
scare people,” I said to calm him.

  “There’s another issue. Why do I recall this incident?”

  “I guess for a particular cause.”

  “Yes. Given that I compare with other threats, this one was breaking my beliefs, as accepting a deity too. Everything fell. All my checked principles about life’s philosophy, my hopes evaporated. It was a painful cut to my life’s enthusiasm.”

  “Did you fall into depression? I don’t ask to disquiet. You moved toward another route?”

  “No. Have you forgotten who I am? Whatever happened, I always kept my kickboxer rules. It means no pain, no nagging, and no mourning. I must only push myself to gather my psyche, wipe the tears, snot, and blood, cleanse my wounds, and stand to move further.”

  “Understand. And I see a good-looking man. Do you remember how you hinted that you speak and I only listen?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “You are the most lumping, fanciest philosopher I have ever seen. Are you familiar with the term ‘agonistic behavior?’”

  “I can brainstorm ideas…”

  “That is psychology. An adequate measure of worldviews is about ethics and subsisting. You can see that agony and conduct named here, connected to the idiom. It explains that when a man gets into unbreakable circumstances, he begins a continued dying. That’s called, ‘behaving in agony.’ I guess in such conditions, a man becomes aggressive and can hurt anyone. Also, there’s a lot of complaining about the entire world’s mess.”

  “Sure. How did you notice? First, when I hadn’t power to move my hand, my feelings retreated. I became placated. Later on, within a few weeks, my temper became uncontrolled and volatile.”

  “What turned you?”

  “We mentioned philosophy as a promotion for life progress.”

  “Oh, who is the genius hero now?”

  “You won’t convince, but just Freud for me, in the same row.”

  “I have reviewed Freud’s psychoanalysis, and it interprets dreams and free association. Has this touched your grievance?”

  “It puts it in straightness, man. My crippled-to-the-point-of-blindness friend was my closest human companion. We had a bunch of adventures in Europe together as if we were a pair of separated Siamese twins. It has grown in the scenario for every next financial swindle—called the project. We played roles as homosexual partners, but we were both maniacs for girls. I’m straight.”

  As typical in our chats, we had another time-out. This man sipped another glass of dark ale and browsed over me like I was a plant in the garden. My inner voice sounded annoyed, saying, Oh, man. You were in battles I can see only a picture of. I suspect you can read my mind. Let’s stay heads-up all time. I spoke to defuse the tension.

  “You told me one idea commuted to a bad plot. What had you assumed?”

  “It’s a shocking thing. I obsessed with ferocious vengeance. Is that a result of suffering? I don’t know.”

  “May I ask, have you ever considered the term ‘reasoning?’”

  “Yes. You will show surprise that unreasoning suggested me, Mr. Freud.”

  “Hey, man, I noticed you love to delay at a capital point, explain.”

  “Okay, he wrote a group of works about death. I found that these opinions dabbed me. See here, by Freud, On Death, if your dearest person was the victim of a homicide, does your soul get revengeful or ill-tempered?”

  “Your confusion drove you later to the foul thinking?”

  “Yes, it’s something like that. I dragged myself into a predicted position. My friend was like my brother. After his final going, my heartbreak whined as does a mutilated dog. I don’t care if it sounds foolish. I created a plan to penalize those canine affronts. My aggravated thinking was that they must pay for what they did. I intended ruthless revenge. It slammed the nail into the gray substance of my head. And, outside of all fright, I caught myself forgetting about angst and death.”

  “Maybe grouchy evil leaped inside you during sleep?” I tried jest.

  “No. Freud clarified this as disembodied inspiration.”

  “Was it leading you to action? What happened?”

  “It was hard to battle. I intended, for that moment, to murder nobody. What befell them later, I didn’t care.”

  “Oh, you’re a desperate man.”

  “Yes. If to say it truer, I was rigorous with no pity to my enemies. Can you imagine that I stalked everyone on my list who was to be rewarded with punishment?”

  “Halloo! As I follow, that is not your specialty. You were a kickboxer, correct?”

  “You are a thousand times right. But, it wasn’t the crucial trait of my footing. My best haunt was an unerring desire to win only the cash. Due to my unique boxing skills, I controlled myself from mutilating anyone. So, let me repeat: I tracked situations as exclusive only for a green staff—many hundreds with a picture of Benjamin Franklin. Yes, it was my greatest adrenaline rush. But sportsmen don’t open it in the interviews.”

  “But hold on, fellow. As I understand, you justify that you didn’t hit people’s muzzles. Oh man, it means you seek epinephrine by humiliating people with fraud? Again, bravo, mister! Can it can appear any more vividly? Flimflam-boom, niggle-boom, a blindfold, a dupe, or only plunder-blast, and boom? Are these things bringing you to euphoria and you’re getting enjoyment over it?”

  “Hello! I never robbed workers with a shovel. I looked for riches. Have they earned millions by dirty labor? Come on, boy. I guess you can’t decipher excitement when we made a few tycoons shorter for big money? And that was my majority sweep. Like a rocket on wires, I lost control of myself.”

  “Congratulations, and what about martial arts? Sorry, as I am not from the United States, I’ve never seen your picture or your name.”

  “I see, but let’s speak better of how I declared war on the insulters. It was not a covert run-up for modest vengeance, but meticulous preparation for retaliation with a taste…”

  “Did you get a weapon? Sorry, I’m kidding,” I said this and exploded with laugher.

  He giggled but replied, “In that context, I assembled a bright brigade of pros. For the first time in my life, I made no money but proposed immense sums for action. I searched for proper information on those maulers. For almost one year, it was the correct gathering of contacts, secrets, lifestyles, women—everything. I had not a piece of sand to be merciful. Do you remember that I am a big fan of Nietzsche? So, now I forget the full quote but part of it says, ‘…impossible to suffer without making someone pay for it…' This was chiseled in my head for a few years. Can you imagine how two of the most puissant impostors in Europe enjoyed beating these miscreants in their rich homes, step-by-step, one-by-one, like reeking cats? One of them was so scared to death, he pretended he had died. But man, I know tricks about how to reanimate the human body. Ha-ha! But my scorn trap was to bring them to lunacy. I guess no one ever doubted who did it in such a frank-scornful way. I picked long hours and smashed in a sensitive, methodical, exact manner. I gave them breath for only a few minutes and continued next, next, next…”

  “Hold on, old chap, are you saying you tortured them? Oh, you are goosy-psycho!”

  “No, relax, I’m not that.”

  “Do you know what, mister guest-to-the-US? Listen, dear. As I catch you, I don't confide your past as a human scared of such stature. After just the last minutes of your story, I believe you do not exist for me. You are a dangerous person for yourself and the public. And here’s one more thing. From the first moment you showed up, I watched you as a suspicious person, causing only mistrust.”

  “No, no. It’s a wrong opinion about me.”

  “Don’t panic. I’m steady, but if I try to verify your age, I’m willing to assume you might have taken part in the war in the Balkans. You look more like a former soldier—not a gangster. Many people still remember the disgusting pictures of massacres in Kosovo. Except me, I dislike any idiotic fact-checks about judging you. You just engage in dishonest chatting by giving nothing, and n
ow I need no testimony. Sorry, man, you produce fakes.”

  My backlash was surprising to us both. I didn’t forget that Mark was unsafe, and I could get punched to death. But, it surprised me too. Why had I gotten so angry? This entire time, I had kept my nerve in firm hands. But now, it was an emotional blast. As I could estimate, it wasn’t me. Perhaps it was the negative energy that had accumulated suspicions and fear for that man. So, our novel and epilogue weren’t long coming. After my outburst of pretense and such accusations of crime, his scowl alerted me more when he bounded to his legs.

  Next, he moved close and attempted to make a sharp jolt to push away from the bar’s stool with both hands. But in a swift move, I exposed his maneuver and tried to preserve my balance. At once, by the same tactic, I splashed my full glass of beer on his face. He froze like a statue and didn’t embellish a second. Last, without saying a word and with theatrical mien of his countenance, he walked out of the room. I was feeling sorry for a minute of such culmination. And my memory stamped the most treasured moments of conversation. There was a symbolical theme about gangs, philosophers, belief, crime, and death, but not as disarray; and this was amusing. Or, let’s surname it a Procrustean bed because it was a clear misunderstanding about our uniformity, or conformity, and range of visions that brought us almost to fight. After his fast disappearance, my mind attacked dismal emptiness and evisceration. Even he had a glossy exterior, engaging in conversation just to zest the top.