[personal profile] planet_x_one
I was with Lazy Eye Harrington over at the pub the other night. We were reminiscing about the old neighborhood. It was a good time until he had one too many whiskeys and smashed his shot glass over the head of Tommy the Dwarf. We had to hightail it out of there before the cops showed up.

Before he got too far into the sauce, Harrington reminded me of something: around Southbend, there was this weird dude that used hang around. His name was Excellent Anal Abramowicz. Nobody really knew if it was his real name or a nickname, but if it was a nickname he hadn't done anything to earn it in the ten years I knew him. I never saw the guy with a man or a woman, and, hand on a stack of bibles, the guy looked exactly like Hitler. It'd creep you out just to lay eyes on him. He always wore his pants up real high like that bald fucker from I Love Lucy. He was some kind of spinal case too; his back bent forward like the end of a cane.

Still, we were all teenagers then so we didn't know how to get straight on his moniker. Was he really good at giving or getting? Back then Harrington figured him for a queer, but I said he was probably slipping it to fat housewives during the day, when they were bored and lonely, and only had the soaps to watch. Our other friend Louis Belinski said — one-hundred and ten percent certain — it was because Abramowicz used to work at the zoo, in charge of bathing the elephants' and zebras' assholes, and mastered it so well he was given the honorary title by the U.S Department of Agriculture.

We finally ran into Abramowicz late one night back then and confronted him. He got real pissed and took out a birth certificate and showed us: it was his real name.

After that, we never saw him again until his obituary showed up, of all places, in the New York Times. Turns out, when he was just nineteen, he won a Fields Medal for solving a conjecture that had eluded mathematicians for centuries. He was shunned by Academia though, because he refused to change his name. He'd lived alone in an apartment over a slaughterhouse, and died without a quarter in his pocket.
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