Sometimes I daydream of getting a fake passport somehow and living under the name Ivan Mendelev in some tropical country like Dominica or Switzerland. Yes, Switzerland is tropical, don’t argue with me. I’m the decider.
Anyways, wouldn’t that be great? Hell, while I’m getting that, whoever is forging the stuff for me might as well go ahead and fabricate me a doctorate in doctorology too while they’re at it! Sure, make me a surgeon!
“Ivan Mendelev at your service, does this man need an amputation? No? How about a lobotomy?” I mean really, what do doctors know anyways? Eight or ten years of schooling to learn how to work a hacksaw or to learn how to stick an icepick in someone’s eye? C’man. I could pick that shit up WHILE experimenting.
The problem with this whole plan is that go get someone to forge stuff for you, you must have connections. To have connections, one must hang out in unsavory places with unsavory people. To hang out in unsavory places, one must leave the house. To leave the house, one must have ambition.
I guess that rules out my plans for becoming a doctor and living under an assumed name in a dinky little country, but if you like you can call me “Ivan” for the hell of it. And if you ever need an amputation you know where to come, but don’t expect a masterful job of it. I don’t have a lot of free time these days to make picture perfect cuts, there may be a bone sticking out here and there after I’ve done my job, but my rates are low and *affordable.