Igor Beaver
                                                                                       copyright © 2003 by Robert L. Blau

    I knew it!  The beatings and abuse were worth it!  At last, after all those years of faithful servitude, I have won Mahsta's love and approval.  But let me tell you the story ...

    Mahsta and I live in a lovely little town in Transylvania.  It had always been Mahsta's dream to rule the town, but the ignorant townsfolk thought he was barking mad.  Go figure.  But Mahsta had a plan.  He decided to make a monster to beat the townsfolk into submission.  And I was to be his loyal assistant.
    "Igor," he said, "go to the cemetery, dig up some corpses, and bring me this stuff.  I'm looking for big, muscular parts.  Especially the brain.  The brain should be the most muscular part of all."
    He gave me a shopping list, but no shopping cart.  I had to drag the pieces back on my back, in my pockets, or stuffed in my shorts.  It was one of the most glorious chapters of my life.
    When Mahsta has finished building his monster, he encountered one small contretemps.  There was the matter of a launch time.
    "What's the problem, Mahsta?" I asked. "Cahn't you just send him out to kick arse?"
    "Don't be a fool!" snapped Mahsta, whacking me across the forehead with a tire iron. "The people aren't ready for him yet!  They'll come poking around here with their torches and pitchforks.  We need an excuse!"
    Fortunately, the excuse soon came.  Some bandits swooped down from the hills and raided the town.  The townsfolk were terrified.  That's when Mahsta stepped in.
    "I have just what you need," he declared. "A super-tough guardian.  He will stomp those nasty bandits and make you safe!"
    "Oh, yes!" cried the townsfolk. "Please save us!  Thank you, thank you!"
    So Mahsta sent the monster out to rob the townsfolk and muscle anyone who got in his way.
    "But, Mahsta!" I objected. "What about the robbas?  When is the monsta going after the robbas?"
    "Don't be a dolt!" said Mahsta, cracking me on the back of my skull with a shovel. "The robbers have hardly anything of value.  Anyway, we'd never find them."
    The monster was doing great.  Mahsta was getting more wealthy and powerful by the day.  Then some surly townsfolk started asking rude questions.
    "What about the robbers?" they asked.
    "The robbers aren't important," said Mahsta. "Protecting the village is what's important."
    "Then how come this ... guardian is robbing people and killing them?"
    "Is not," said Mahsta.
    "Is too."
    "Is not, is not!" said Mahsta.
    "We have witnesses."
    "No way," said Mahsta.
    "Way.  Lots of witnesses.  And you know what?  That 'guardian' looks a lot like a monster to us."
    "Well, maybe my guardian made one eensy-weensy mistake," said Mahsta. "But it isn't important."
    "Murder and mayhem seem pretty important to us."
    Torches and pitchforks were beginning to appear.  Then I spoke up.
    "Ahem, I brought Mahsta the pahts to make his guahdian," I said.
    "Well, then," said Mahsta. "See?  My assistant Igor brought me faulty body parts, so it isn't my fault."
    "Hmm.  Maybe," said the townsfolk. "So, what are you going to do?"
    "I still have implicit faith in Igor," said Mahsta. "On the whole, he brought me darn good corpse pieces.  And that was just one little mistake.  You guys only caught me out on one murder, right?  So, I'm in the clear, my monst ... er, guardian is still the right answer for this town, and everybody's happy."
    "Uh, guess so," muttered the townsfolk.
    Mahsta appreciates me.