One day Ivan decided he wanted to open his own veterinary practice. He truly loved animals. He easily could have gone to school to get qualifications, but that was too long, too much work, and he preferred to spend his money on video games and fancy objects. Despite the fact that he had access to plenty of funds, he preferred to build his practice on the cheap. Thus he gathered the materials he figured he’d need to start his veterinary practice. He found a rusty hacksaw, a filleting knife, a cutting board, some ibuprofen for anesthesia, and some duct tape. His garage would serve as his office.
One day a young girl came with her mother. The girl was carrying a fat orange cat. The mother looked around the garage with great skepticism and then asked Ivan, “Is this really a veterinary office?”
“Of course it is, ma’am! It’s the best veterinary office you’ll ever find in fact,” Ivan replied.
“But this doesn’t really look like a typical veterinary office.”
Ivan didn’t like that comment.
“What do you mean it doesn’t look like a typical veterinary office? You mean it doesn’t look like a typical Western veterinary office?”
“Western? Well I guess you could say that. But I’m sure they have those kinds of veterinary offices in Japan, Korea, or China too.”
“I assure you that this veterinary office is not only equal to any Western, particularly American veterinary practice, but it’s actually better,” Ivan proclaimed haughtily. “You see, those Western veterinary offices might look clean and sterile, but they are cold and soulless. In fact that’s precisely why I believe that the whole Western veterinary industry will soon collapse. I predicted that years ago. My veterinary practice has soul! It is advanced…spiritually!”
The mother and daughter exchanged confused looks at one another.
“Well okay,” the mother began, “Do you at least have proper, up-to-date surgical equipment?”
“Of course,” Ivan answered, gesturing toward his operating table. “State of the art! Just like a Western veterinary office! Especially an American veterinary office, which will surely fail some day due to its lack of spiritual values!”
“Err…Is that a hacksaw?”
“Did I say state-of-the-art? No I meant to say spiritual. My equipment has all been blessed with holy water, and you can see I’ve got some icons on the table behind the cutting board, next to that roll of duct tape. So are we going to work together…or do you not appreciate spiritual values, possibly because you don’t have a soul?”
“Wellll,” the mother began hesitantly, “I’m in a big hurry. Muffins needs to be spayed. I figured this place would be cheaper.”
“You figured wrong. It is actually unbelievable expensive,” Ivan happily replied. “But you can pay after the operation is done.”
The mother attempted a reassuring glance at her daughter, who reluctantly handed the cat over to Ivan.
“Don’t worry, little girl,” Ivan said. “I will take care of your cat just like a Western doctor! A soulless, decadent Western doctor who is also probably gay.”
“What was that?!” The mother cried.
“Nothing, nothing. Just come back in two hours and your cat will be fixed.”
Two hours later…
Upon seeing “the patient” both mother and daughter screamed, the latter running from Ivan’s “office” in tears. There, on the cutting board atop Ivan’s “operating table” was Muffins, or shall we say the remains of Muffins. What was once a cat now looked something like a carved up Thanksgiving turkey with orange fur matted down with dried blood. Internal organs were strewn about the table and floor. The filleting knife was still stuck in the corpse of the cat, and the abdomen was hastily covered in twisted duct tape.
“Wha…What did you…d-do?” The mother barely managed to get the words out.
“I spayed your cat, just like you asked. That will be $5000 now!” Ivan’s face beamed with pride.
“B-but…She’s dead! You butchered our cat! You’re a monster!”
Ivan became enraged.
“Who is paying you to say that? Is it the US State Department?! Your cat is alive, spiritually! I did a good job, spiritually! You, with your foreign mentality, cannot possibly fathom the depth of the true veterinarian’s soul! Do you think other veterinarians are better? Look at this!” Ivan produced a newspaper clipping from his pocket.
“This is a story about an American veterinarian who got sued by one of his clients because their dog died in his office. Why don’t you complain about him? You see veterinarians have problems everywhere, but especially in America, and I’m better than those veterinarians because I have soul! I have spiritual values!”
“You’re insane,” gasped the mother. “Absolutely insane!” She tried to back out of the garage but suddenly she doubled over and began vomiting on the floor of the garage. Luckily the state of the garage floor was such that her massive puddle of vomit was hardly noticeable amid the other debris and substances caked on top of the concrete. Still wretching, she stumbled to her car and somehow managed to drive off.
Ivan looked satisfied. They’re all out to get me, he thought to himself. They are jealous of my traditional, spiritual veterinary skills! Just then Ivan turned toward you, the reader, and scowled.
“You just read an amusing story which involves the brutal killing of a cat! Is that what you soulless Westerners do for entertainment? You think killing cats is funny? I bet you do! You have no soul! That’s the only reason why you don’t find me to be a sympathetic protagonist! You’re probably gay too.”