Serial Fiction | Noir Fiction | Dark Fairy Tale | Noir | Just Right
Just Right (Part 4)
Ivan: The Beanstalk
I rubbed my eyes. They were drier than a nun’s twat. Made a mental note to pick up a bottle of drops on the way home. Correction: I made a mental note to get the Giant to pick up a bottle of drops on the way home. I couldn’t be seen doing these things. I was supposed to be invincible, impermeable, imperturbable, well above the use of eyedrops for my eyes. The Beanstalk didn’t allow himself to be afflicted with such trivialities. Let others more unworthy deal with them. I was Ivan — I had other things on my mind.
I watched as the Giant beat a man to death. I could have joined in, but this was why I paid a man (a beast?) such as the Giant. I needed someone to do my dirty work for me, to be the brawn behind the brain, to be the jackboot behind my personal ideology. Anyway, I was too old to be using my fists in such a violent manner. I was хилый стариk: a frail old man. Too tall, too thin to act thus. There were those who say I smiled too kindly to be the…
