Rise of the Snowman 5:
They don't say I Love You in Wurtzembourg
Helluva week, folks.
I get Anya to the safe house in Irkutsk and next morning,
she's gone. Turns out, one night last week when an ion storm
was screwing with the chip, she left her Wurtzemburg flat in a trance and stumbled into a cyber café. There she
met Alois, a wealthy Irish day trader with an instant taste
for snow-women. Unable to resist, what with the chip going
haywire, Anya was swept off her feet and officially became
the man's girl-friend. Until the ion
storm abruptly ended the next morning and she sent him to
several different hospitals.
So I track down reports of a
fat white woman in Germany and I find her on the first try,
actually. Anya has moved in with Alois at his Bavarian mansion,
apologized, and resumed the wild hedonism for which she is
so famous in circles of wanky humans that I cannot stand.
To make a long story endless, she's forgotten who rescued
her from herself, and um, other important things pertaining
to whom she's in love with, and she's barricaded into
what is essentially a gay-mod crystal castle with rifle-bearing,
sun-glassed, dark-suited SS at the parapets.
Darlings, fabulous party. Mind if I ... smoke?
It just so happens I've tracked her down the evening of Alois's
Deutschland-famous gala, and everyone's milling about in the
courtyard. The guards only bother training rifles on arriving
guests. Not snowmen across the street with ridiculously zoom-capable
hunting rifles purchased at a Bohemian state fair earlier
today. I want to see how fast I can pick the four of them
off, but that will alert people. I need to employ stealth
on this mission. I've decided to heighten my prestige a little
recently--and by 'a little' I mean global conquest--but I'll
need her love and support to tackle this ugly, wicked world.
So I have to do this right. A call to Alois's PDA-cell phone.
(It's no less fey than it sounds. I hate her taste in men.
Shut up.) He answers. I'm Schliebel, his broker.
Hammstammgherunght, his favorite fund, has taken an astonishing
dive today. (It hasn't, but I did moon their offices around
noon.) I tell him I'm at the gate; he has to meet me outside.
The real Schliebel is in a steamer trunk in my room at the
Ritz. I practiced his voice all afternoon. He could get out
by himself if he found the latch, but he just doesn't think
that way. I think I'll take the trunk into the Jacuzzi with
me tonight. With ANYA and me tonight. (It will float. But
you were worried. Philoi, my Anya makes of me a better man.
With her, I dare to imagine that I'll go to snowman heaven
when the Deathfox finally comes for me. Of course, you'll have
noticed that the plot of this installment revolves around
her having run away with an Irishman, so get ready
for Gotterdammermung.) I've been practicing other things this
week, too. I must say I'm taking self-improvement seriously
for the first time in a while. I'm just starting to realize
how much that whole spree-killing incident with the Mayor
of Quebec took out of me. I've needed some Me time. Here he
Oh, that reminds me. When last we parted, I thought Deathfox
had lured me to Siberia so I'd obliterate his enemies there
while he murdered my daughter and possibly my friend. But
Francois smelled him and warned my loved ones in exchange
for his freedom, for which the fox cut him up pretty bad as
soon as he got outside. Whirr whirr, and all that, but Francois
is a snowbadass in his own right. Long story short, Francois
died, Deathfox got frozen solid (and put in the freezer by
my brave little munchkin), and the Dog made s'mores and called
to see when, in god's name, I was coming home. Real soon,
buddy. But for now . . .
I smash out of my window and land, crushing the pavement,
two inches in front of Alois. The beating is joyous with a
capital OUS. Violence, huzzah! A hook to the left! A hook
to the right! Uppercut! Hook to the left! To the right! To
the right! To the right! And that's it. I cannot believe Anya
would bother with this inane sissy who loves computers more
than her. Ah, well. I'm here to fix it.
Now, for my next trick . . . Schliebel. That's right, folks.
I'm a shape-shifter now. Ran away to China after I found her
gone. Bumped into an old witch. She gave me some new tricks
in exchange for . . . um. Money. At least, that's how she
would describe it. HA! Back to the show.
Knock knock knock! You must let me in! I'm Schliebel, the
fund manager! Whose fund manager? This man's, scheisskopf,
the host of the party! Gang way, everyone! Please, some air!
Call the police, this man's been badly beaten! No, I didn't
do it! Do I look like I could do it, with these sissy girl
arms? I spend my entire day at the office and temple. I can box like the Marquis of Queensbury? Oy! Yes, you take
him, see what you can do. I'll tell his girlfriend! (Schliebel
jogs like an uncoordinated girl with breasts far too large
for her frame. It was the highlight of my day running him
down, but doing it is just annoying. I decide to live with
the risk of guests seeing Schliebel transform into a hideous
monster as he rushes for the exquisite snow-woman in the Jacuzzi.
Curse this foul, death-polluted land: his Jacuzzi is better
than mine. I feel like hitting someone else now. No! No hitting!
Now it's time for seduction. Go snowman!) I pull her out of
the hot tub. "I knew you'd ruin somebody's evening,"
she says, reminding me of my mother with how drunk she is.
"I don't want you here. That chip made me happy, mean
though I was. I'm sorry I hurt you, but ultimately I meant
what I said. I never really loved you. I was just lonely with
Francois." (Cut to Shu Tri making little Francois's out
of Francois, while the Dog looks on, barking furiously.) "I
want to be with Alois. Now. I'm sorry. You've blown this whole
thing way out of proportion." I blow out more than that
when I pull my 17th-century awesome-looking musket pistol
and take off the top of Alois's head.
Later, toads. I think Anya might be mad at me. She won't talk
to or look at me on the flight back to Manhattan. But I cannot
stop giggling. I've got the giggles something horrible. Every
few seconds I just have to put my hand over my eyes or my
mouth and just sit there and shake. It's what happened when
I rescued Alois's brain from its lifelong prison. First of
all, OK, it was green. Which means he's had cyborg
enhancements. No wonder he was making a killing on the market.
He can think about twelve things at once with his conscious
mind. Correction. Could. But the really funny thing
is where it went. There was a green splatter all over this
aging German dame, and she could not stop screeching. But
she did it in these wonderful periodic bursts. AAAAAA!
AAAAAA! AAAAAA! AAAAAA! AAAAAA! AAAAAA!
That was pure heaven for my funny bone, because then she
tried to run away from it, still screaming to a beat, TRIPPED,
hit her face on the punch bowl rim, brought down the refreshments
table, mostly on top of herself, got splashed with the entire
bowl of punch, right in the face (it did surprisingly little
to wash off the brain). Struggled back up (eyes closed), tripped
over a fallen table leg onto her husband, got it all over
him, threw up, also on him, passed out. Even Anya wanted
to laugh when she managed to smack herself on the punch bowl
and then get SIX hors d'oevres in her cleavage. Anya had looked
away not-to-let-me-see-her-smile, both of us painfully aware
that she was supposed to be pissed at me for offing her boy-toy.
But she'll get over it, cause she, Shu Tri, possibly the Dog,
and I are all going on an ISLAND VACATION for as long as it
takes for us to fall in love again. Hello, South Pacific!
I might even paint a face on a volleyball with blood. Oh,
there I go again.