Ibanez Clod has a predilection for cold sores and cankers and whooping like a dog when he clears his throat. He prefers the fez to the boater and wears socks with sandals and gloves with three fingers on each hand. He affects an air of generosity and solicitude and crouches when tying his shoes. His mother, a Quaker with iron-gray hair and a clove lip, and his father, a Scientologist with a palsied leg and a hacking cough, live in sin in a hovel shack next to the Sears behind the aqueduct behind the Waymart near the haberdasher’s who has a pencil-thin moustache and a dog with three legs and one eye. Ibanez Clod smokes Guyanese cheroots and chews quid with saltpetre, to lessen the effects of dementia that has all but rearranged the mantle of his thoughts and forced him into solitude and hiding. He can be seen feeding the pigeons on Sundays and Thursdays next to the Waymart behind the haberdasher’s across from his parent’s hovel of sin, Quakerism and Scientology. He will be the man whooping, wearing socks with sandals and crouching when tying his shoes; and yes, wearing three-fingered gloves and clearing his throat of Scientology, Quakerism and dementia.
