Trouble At The Dascha

October 8, 2016

“Vladmir, Vladmir, why the long face?”

“Didn’t you hear the Vice Presidential Debate the other night, Boris? That Pence guy called me, Vladmir Putin, a ‘horrible little dictator.’ Me, little? Look at these hands! Do they look little to you?”

“Of course not, boss. Everyone knows you are a BIG dictator.”

“Exactly. Didn’t he see me half naked sitting on a horse? My muscles are HUGE. No one has bigger muscles than me, believe me. And that Pence guy was talking about Russian aggression. I thought Trump said wouldn’t it be nice if we were friends. What kind of friends talk like this?”

“Maybe this guy is trying to take over the ticket and push Trump out of the way.”

“You think so? Maybe, but it makes me sad. Trump may be stupid, and maybe he thought I said he was brilliant when I actually called him a show-off, but I kind of liked him. I thought maybe we could hang out together in one of his hotels, maybe play a little golf, judge a few beauty pageants.”

“You can still do that, boss.”

“Are you kidding? Haven’t you heard the radio show where Trump talks about women in filthy language, and admits that he was trying to screw a married woman, that he’s a grabber of their private parts? My wife would never allow me to go anywhere with him now.”

“But Vladmir, you are head of all Russia, the boss.”

“You’ve never been married, have you, Boris? Mrs. Putin doesn’t care how many journalists I have murdered, but if you think for one minute that she’d let me go play golf with a pig like Donald Trump, you don’t know women. (sigh..) What a shame. Such nice golf courses, too….”



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