Once Upon a Time...

there was a Latvian pork butcher named Sven who suffered from Tourette's syndrome.  Though blessed with an adoring wife, and 7 sons all named Isosceles Triangle, he carried a quiet longing with him through each day.  Despite the bourgeois prosperity he enjoyed, and status in his small town, he secretly longed to play the piccolo for a famous group of itinerant performance artists known as I Never Sausage A Thing.  Imagine his anxious excitement when he heard that I Never Sausage A Thing was slated to perform in his town! ..........
ElLagarto ElLagarto
56-60, M
9 Responses Jun 22, 2007

Yay, El`s here!! Oh, right, I`ll read the story now....................

Before long Sven was fast asleep and lost in a luscious dream which involved Catherine Daneuve (when she was 21) a can of shaving cream, and the complete works of Shakespeare translarlated into Turkish.

This was not turning out how Sven had imagined. Bjorn badly injured, the vicar almost dead.... holy sh*t, he thought. He was paralysed with fear and confusion. Then out of nowhere he heard a loud siren. It was the ambulance. In no time they had scooped up the injured and driven off to the town hospital. Grief stricken and feeling helpless, it suddenly dawned on Sven.... I want to become an ambulance officer! Then I can save lives and be a hero! But at the same time a less admirable thought occurred to him.... with Bjorn out of the way, there was an opening in the band I Never Sausage a Thing. Confused by the crazed antics of his stupid donkey and the ideas in his head, Sven lay down on the ground and closed his eyes.

But before Sven could fall completely into a blue monk, er, funk, his donkey Pythagoras tore like a bat out of hell through the crowd, beset by African killer bees, with a tattered rope flapping behind him where he'd chewed it through. The crazed beast had no sense of where his hooves struck, and he was through the town square and out of sight past the artisan's guild before the crowd realized he had cracked open the vicar's skull like a ripe melon. Atop the vicar, the lutist Bjorn sprawled nearly upside down, contorted in pain, with both arms twisted at unnatural angles.

Much to his surprise, chagrin, consternation, perturbation, and bewilderment, Sven grew suddenly pensive, laconic, and wistful, even morose. "What," he wondered, "is better? The exquisite perfection of an idyllic unfulfilled dream, or the actuality of a real dream taking shape right before one's eyes which may ultimately not fulfill expectations? Hmmmmmm." He scratched his chin pensively.

"Help! Help! Someone help him!" a woman cried. Sven watched helplessly while the vicar writhed on the ground, crossing himself with one hand and clutching at his chest with the other. A man ran out of a nearby building and knelt by the vicar as his movements began to stifle. Sven recognized the man immediately- it was Bjorn Steinkopf, the lutist for You Never Sausage A Thing, in the flesh! "Stand back, everyone!" said Bjorn as he pulled a defibrillator from a seemingly empty space behind his back. Sven watched in admiration as Bjorn shocked the vicar back to life. "My dreams have finally come true!" he said to himself.

Overcome by paroxysisms of grief and rage, Sven’s Tourette’s got the best of him and he spewed a string of oaths so profoundly vulgar and defamatory that they caused the Vicar, who was patiently waiting in line, to suffer a cardiac arrest.

Never would Sven had imagined the disappointment awaiting inside, for all tickets had been sold out in a half hour past. "Not again, not again," whimpered Sven. "I don't get to see I Never Sausage A Thing, and I'm cursed for it."<br />
<br />
"What will I tell Isosceles T-square, when he so wanted me to go? I knew I should have gotten a daughter. Oh, this curse won't let me go."

Early the next morning, Sven cantered to the town square. This was unusual because his trusty donkey Pythagoras had developed a nasty case of dropsy around his nether regions that had turned his usual gimpy gait to a rather caustic canter. Because of this rather unfortunate affliction, Sven reached the town hall in record time. After tying Pythagoras to a watering trough and allowing him to soothe his aching loins, he headed to the town hall to purchase his ticket.