About

Ivan Reese infests Edmonton, Alberta. He is a municipally-abhorred egotist of few talents. One could say he is a dilettante without any particular uptake, but that would bestow him undue credit.

Ivan Reese has no musical training, nor any obvious natural talent. As as former band leader, he instilled in many the great desire to quit outright. No group under his direction has survived their second performance.

Ivan Reese earned the ire of many peers by deciding to pursue a career in the visual arts. Not three months from the beginning of his first semester, he dropped out of art school. Since that seminal retreat, he has made many failed attempts to establish himself as an animator, despite having made no animations. It is hardly worth confirming the forgone conclusion that none of his artistic dabbling bore any fruit.

Resigning himself to failure as an artist, Ivan Reese momentarily flirted with the ill-conceived enterprise of becoming a computer programmer. It was his belief that a plebeian fascination with numbers would manifest well in the field of computation, despite having nearly failed grade-school maths and showing no grasp of even the most rudimentary calculations. The outcome was to be inevitable - after a mere year at University, having stochastically shuffled through two other degree programs before even attempting a major in Computer Science, he dropped out again.

Yes, it is true. In an act of desperation, faced with the mounting failures of his life, Ivan Reese finally met his match. While very few facts are concretely known, the nature of such a romantic union is too bizarre, too wanton, too painfully inhuman to be properly researched. Though it is an utter torment to repeat, what follows is the complete set of knowledge about this most foul union, with advanced warning and apology to the reader. It need not be said that young children and those faint of heart should read no further.

Ivan awoke one morning with a fart, and an itchy pain. Inspecting himself in a mirror, between longing gazes at his own jaundiced reflection, he found a most terrible rash had broken out across his cheek. No stranger to such hideous dermatological maladies, he ignored the crusts and oozing pus and went about his day. Hardly half an hour later, as he was sitting in the park picking the jam from his toes, an awfully short but strikingly ugly man waddled up to his side, and started yelling something kooky about the weather.

"Sure is a god-forsaken rock, this place. Thankfully there's the ocean, or I just couldn't go on. Have you seen London? Have you seen France? I was with them like it was just yesterday, but haven't the faintest clue who I am now."

The man's breath smelled faintly of liver oil and burning plastic. Ivan was slightly confused, and highly amused, when the man started peeing mid-sentence. He'd not seen someone so crass in as long as he could remember (which isn't all that long, let it be known). As the fellow continued blithering on about the weather, a sneaking suspicion welled up inside Ivan's belly.

"You just can't kick children these days, they don't let you! I wish Jennifer was still alive, my goodness, she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever laid my boots upon. Have you seen London? Really, the nerve of some people, yelling at you, 'Don't sleep on the onramp,' or, 'Who are you? Get out of my car.' I just can't come to grips with our so-called modern society. All these grown-up children running around, whistling dixie; none of them with even an ounce of respect for a hard day's work. When I was just a girl, you had to clean your boots with spit and chicken fat. That was before I lost all my hair, of course. Oh, I do miss Jennifer. She was such a sweet little thing. Too tall for her age, but I loved her."

In that moment, Ivan had a sudden flash of realization. This man, whose every word rang out with pure beauty and liver, who stood there in the puddle of his own urine, was in fact not a man at all, but a woman more beautiful than any other Ivan had ever known. He was enraptured, stricken with woozy, swooning at the very weight of her wit and the chafe of her charm. Mustering every last pitiful drop of his intestinal fortitude, Ivan inquired as to the name the radiant beauty standing there before him.

"Katie?" he replied, with a deranged perplexity.

"Katie, you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Your skin is glowing with a radiant sheen. I'd like to take you to my house and do something obscene. Will you marry me?"

It is not known how she replied. The only credible witness who related these events was shot dead while reporting them, and neither Ivan nor Katie have been seen since. A reward is offered for any information leading to their arrest.