Monday, March 20, 2006

A Trip to Mother Russia


So I planned a trip to Russia in order to pay my respects at the Milosevic funeral. This was rather sudden and I didn't have time to find a ticket to use my frequent flier miles, and so I was a little burned up. And I was little nervous going there, because I had sort of cheated the Russian mob during that diamond heist in Leningrad right after those bastards starting taking the Wall down in '89, and I figured the Russian mob was still a little sore at me. And when people like that get a little sore at you, they try to kill you. And so I took a few bodyguards with me, just in case.

So I'm sitting down at the ceremony, and everyone's coming up paying their respects and throwing flowers and what not and saying how great Milosevic was and how much he did for the rights of Serbs everywhere, and then all of a sudden Crotop the Moldovan Bear comes up to me. I thought he had been working in the States, but apparently he was deported again. I asked him why- if it was his visa or something- but then he shook his head and told me it was because he broke someone named Megan's law or something. What a country America is! That individual citizen's get their own laws. That's a bit too free-spirited and wishy-washy if you ask me.

So then Crotop tells me that without Milosevic protecting me in the Balkans, I could be through- the Russian mafia would see to that- and that I should go with him to a meeting and that they could work out a deal with me and then I'd be safe.

And that's how I knew they were going to come at me. The Russian mob was going to arrange a meeting through Crotop, and at that meeting I was going to be assassinated. That's the smart play for Crotop. Crotop was always smarter.

That's the way people are in this business- they come to you in your moment of weakness- they come as your friends- and you don't see it coming. And so I recognized this Moldovan wolf in sheep's clothing for what he really was, and decided to make my move.

So I told Crotop we should leave the funeral and take my car to go meet with the mob. He made a call to his boss Barzinov, and then we headed for my car. I had my bodyguards already waiting by the car- they knew the drill.

"You get in the car Crotop- but I'm not going with you." I told Crotop.

"But you have to go with me to the meeting -otherwise you'll mess everything up...." he explained.

But then Crotop paused for a second, and suddenly it dawned on him what was coming next, and his heart sunk.
"McStallen - can you get me off the hook- for old time sake?" he begged.

I just smiled and shook my head. "Can't do it, Crotop."

"Mikhael- It was nothing personal, just business." said Crotop.

And then I pushed him into the car and one of my body-guards fired a .22 slug into his head.
We dumped the body in the Volga and headed off.

Well that wasn't business for me- that was all personal, I god damn guarantee it.


---------------------------------------------------------------
On to more cheery news...

"Among individuals, as among nations, respect for the rights of others is peace."

So said Benito Juarez. And today is the 200th birthday of Benito Juarez, the former president of Mexico and champion of "La Reforma." Mr. Juarez served two terms as Mexico's president in the 1860s, and worked to fight both oppression by the Roman Catholic Church and the French government. The French probably deny this now- just like they deny everything else in their past pertaining to misdeeds, violence, aggression etc. A decade from now they'll probably deny the chronic rioting and civil disobedience that's been ravaging their landscape.

Anyway Feliz Navidad Mr. Juarez. Feliz Navidad.

2 Comments:

Anonymous professor stanley paulson said...

A horse and a chicken were playing in a meadow. Suddenly, the horse fell into a mud hole and started to sink. The horse yelled at the chicken to go and get the farmer, to help pull him out to safety. The chicken ran to the farm but the farmer couldn't be found. Wasting no time, the chicken got into the farmer's Mercedes and drove it as fast as possible back to the mud hole. Upon her return, the chicken tied a rope around the bumper, and then tossed the other end of the rope to the horse. As the horse hung on for dear life, the chicken drove the car forward, and saved the horse from sinking.

A few days later, the chicken and horse were playing in the meadow again. This time, the chicken fell into the mud hole. The chicken yelled to the horse to hurry and get the farmer, or the farmer's Mercedes.
The horse said, "Wait, I think I can stand over the mud hole!" So, he stretched over the width of the hole and said to the chicken, "Reach up and grab my 'thingy' and pull yourself up!!!" And the chicken did so, and pulled herself up to safety.

And what's the moral of the story:
If you are hung like a horse, you don't need a Mercedes to pick up chicks.

5:22 PM  
Anonymous Spider said...

i thought his name was robert paulson

11:52 AM  

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