I see things in things so many times that it hardly seems mentioning, but this morning was just that little bit different. Usually visions have a religious significance - Jesus on a mountain, the Virgin Mary on a management course - or a geographical relevance - Turin on a shroud. Imagine my surprise, nay, apathy, when I saw Josef Stalin's face in a curtain. My primary thought was "I need a shit", and then I thought that someone had dug up Uncle Joe, scraped off the worst of the mould and hidden him behind the curtain for japes. I dismissed this thought, as someone was already in the bathroom, and just decided to hold it. And anyway, who did I know with the necessary visas and sneaky nous to steal Stalin, shrink him to about the tenth of his size and stick him behind the curtain? Only one person had that kind of power, and they were straining away in the bathroom, a victim of their own making.
As you can see, I eliminated every single logical explanation. I was also fairly sure that there was no religious significance, because ol' dead Joe didn't believe in that bunkum. Update for fools: 1) Vision of Joe Stalin in the curtain. 2) Not logical. 3) Not illogical. 4) In binary terms we're talking 0.5... or is that 0.111? Well, you can see the confusion that a simple vision of the curtain engendered in me. I did what any right-thinking left-brained central reservation would do, and had a shit. If this were a film, I'd be haunted by visions of Joe even in my moment of supreme solitude, perhaps left on the paper after wiping - well, I didn't WANT to look, but I thought my life might be like a film for once. It wasn't. All that for nothing? Life just isn't fair sometimes, is it?
Joe, Joe, Joe, Joe, Joe, why must you haunt me so? What do you want from me? Am I to liberate this curtain in the name of the people? Am I to send it to Siberia? Am I to grow a moustache like yours? ...By jove, I think I've got it! Joe Stalin's telling me to grow a moustache. Think about it, it all makes sense: Joe Stalin had a moustache, right? Joe Stalin came to me in a vision, right? Joe Stalin must want me to grow a moustache. Still not convinced? Look at a picture of Josef Stalin, and admire his moustache. It's bushy, it's vibrant, it's dominant, and yet he's not really known for it. Mention Hitler to people, and someone will shout moustache back at you. Mention Stalin to people, and no-one, not a single person will say moustache to you. Hitler's moustache was nothing, just a little whim in the middle, but Stalin's moustache, well... Stalin's was a moustache, a man's moustache, an ugly woman's moustache. Stalin needs his moustache to be famous, and for reasons best known to him, I have been chosen to spread the word.
My destiny, my duty, I was to grow Joe Stalin's moustache for him now he was dead. Yes, I'd look foolish, and yes I'd be helping out an evil mass murderer, but I'd seen a vision. ...To be honest, I was beginning to have my doubts. Was the matter up for debate? Could I challenge Stalin's authority? Did Stalin have any authority over me now that he was dead, and I was in a whole nother country? Did I care? Why so many questions? Would people mind that what I was writing wasn't that good? For none of these answers and more, eat a yoghurt. Ah, I'll make it better next time, ok? I promise I'll at least try.