I asked for a bit of help on this one. As you could probably see in the previous chapter, I have already ran out of ideas for dreams. None in this chapter, though. So, I asked LilyRosetheDreamer to help in anyway she possibly can. Hope you enjoy :D!
Igor woke up, his strong back in horrible pain. He guessed it was probably because he sprained it the other day in the garden of his, which takes up an acre in a forest a few kilometers away. He uses it to help provide food for himself. After all, if you were that large, wouldn't you eat enough food to make yourself have no money in a year?
The giant man keels over, grabbing the back of his thighs for support. He then pulls as hard as he could to straighten his back. The sound of cracking was heard, and Igor laid back. "Ahhh...," he groaned in relief.
He quickly got up and made his way to his Honda. Where was he to drive? Harvard Vangaurd. He knew, that like last time he pulled his back into alignment, that the pain would return, and he wanted none for as long as possible.
He came, checked himself in, filed the required forms and was taken to his room. He was asked to remove his clothes from his body, so he did so (reluctantly). He then put on the skimpy paper robe, which barely covered his torso. He tried to pull it down, but that ended with it tearing. So he found some tape, a few newspapers, and reassembled it to a size that would accommodate him. He tried to lay down in bed, which creaked loudly in protest to his weight.
*A few hours later*
Igor, having watched television for the past few hours, was excruciatingly bored. Getting ready for sleep, suddenly, a tall doctor quickly shuffled in loudly, talking to nurses in a heavy German accent. What he was saying was too quiet to understand, but the accent and the occaisonal understood word came along fine. From what the old man could understand, the nurses were told to duct tape together two trash bags, the purpose, however, was not heard.
The doctor looked up, and his face seemed to be familiar to Igor. From where, was the question. He was, well, tall, had blue eyes, brown hair (not without a few grey streaks), and a medical robe that seemed to have patches of blood on it. His face seemed to have no age, but had its own fair share of wrinkles. Probably from years of complex medical procedures and the resulting stress, Igor assumed.
"You are doktor, da?" the familiar man raised his eyes, covered by round glasses.
"Ja, I am. So, vhen vas zhe last time you saw a doctor?" Igor looked down, embarrassed.
"At least... fifty four years ago." the ageless doctor looked at him with wide confused eyes.
The doctor calmed down, looked at his chart, and started speaking. "Your name... is... Igor Pu-" the man stopped talking in the middle of his sentence, looked up, and stared. He looked back at the chart, to make sure there were no mistakes, and quickly looked up. His hands started shaking, dropped his clipboard and papers, and embraced the man, crying loudly.
Igor looked down at the crying man, and patted him on the on the back, speachless.
After a few minutes of that, he grabbed the doctor by the arms, put him on the floor, and forced him to stand. Igor then spoke, in a nervous tone, "Vhat zhe hell just happen?"
The quivering man replied nervously, "Don't you remember? Ve used to vork togezher, on BLU?" Igor shook his head. "Ubercharge?" Igor shook again, the proud man showing less confidence than before, and that shows plenty. "Fegelein? Medic?" he pleaded, looking more and more embarrassed every word. But, at the final word, something in Igor's giant head clicked.
He whispered "Doktor? Medic. MEDIC!" he yelled the final word, due to past habit, and his rememberance of why he was there.
Fin. This chapter has been long enough.