Moscow Machination

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Don’t you dare shit on Anna man… She is like the last radiant thing left in that cesspool nation of yours. Don’t you fucking sully her.”

“Oh… sorry dear Leader. I thought we were buddies, you know, shooting up the shit,” backtracked Dimitroff.

The great leader paced the great room with the great rug and a great view. He slowly circled Dimitroff, who absolutely needed to get out and drown himself in a Smirnoff distillation tank. The Leader was giving him the creeps. Not classic serial killer creep but more of a soap drop creep.

The Leader began, “Ok. If we were buddies… where were you when the Americans were giving me shit about those tests back in July? It was just one test. And it wasn’t even a new one. Ever since I was a kid, all I wanted to see was some fireworks on the 4^th of July…”

“Dear Leader, please… I am just the messenger, my hands are always tied…”

“Just fireworks man. Ever since I was a kind, I have always wanted to see the 4^th of July celebrations from the Brooklyn Bridge. But you… and the fucking Chinese wanted my family as the bogeyman. So no one in my family — not me, not my dad or grandpa has ever seen the fireworks… Because of you, the Americans have denied us the 4^th of July.”

“Oh Leader, I understand. I can’t stand the Americans either. Hollywood huh? What a racket? Have you seen the latest…?”

Oops. Dimitroff had pushed the wrong button.

“Don’t you dare speak ill of Hollywood inside My Korea. I swear on the sickle, I will fucking cut off your Johnson…”

“Jesus man. Relax.” Dimitroff was furiously searching through his wardrobe, mentally. He was trying to locate his ‘I Love Kabul 2’ t-shirt that he had custom made to rankle the American ambassador to Bratislava.

“Ok, dear Leader, why don’t you buy a massive LCD… say 1000 inches, I am sure we, Russia, can get you one, from the Japanese… hah see I know you hate those other Koreans… and then you can live stream the 4^th of July fireworks from New York.”

“Yo Dimitroff, what kind of an ignorant punk are you man? Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that? The fucking American’s are blocking our internet man. They block their TV shows, movies, they cancel my iTunes account and… and… deleted all three of my Facebook accounts.”

“Oh…” said Dimitroff.

“You think I would ever deny my people of sweet shows like Rizzoli and Isles? Or Grey’s Anatomy? Or the Good Wife? No way man. No way. I have always wanted my people to be exposed to strong, self-respecting women… but the Americans… they fucking block everything.”

The Leader began to sob.

“And last week… last week…”

“What happed last week, Dear Leader?”

“Last week… they even blocked the porn.”

“Block a man’s porn? Oh that’s low… Real low.”

“Even VPNs are down.”

Dimitroff needed to pulls some diplomatic magic, “Oh damn. That sounds rough Dear Leader. You know what I’m sure that the sewer we have called the FSB records and stores everything that comes out of America. I will get you a copy of this Risotto woman… and Gary’s anatomy, Dear Leader. Please don’t cry.”

The Leader opened his eyes in horror and shoved the Russian hard. Dimitroff landed in a fluffy sofa and bounced right back, albeit extremely terrified. He hadn’t given any standing instructions to his chauffeur. It could take the Russian embassy and the Foreign Ministry years to determine whether he was just cut up or cut up and fed to the crocs.

“What makes you think I like to watch replays? I am not some loser with a 60hr job, who has to DVR his life away man. I am the fucking Leader of the DPRK and I demand to see every episode as it premiers on the American East Coast. Not after a fucking five minute ‘safety’ delay or in some wretched Mountain Time. And definitely not from your FSB dump.”

“Ok, Leader. I have made a note of your concerns. I will make sure the President gets it. Now if you will release our tiger, I will be on my way.”

“Hey asshole, this ain’t the Hangover, where you come here like a white Mike Tyson and demand your tiger back. I am the Tyson here. I have always wanted to be Tyson. I will fuck you up so bad man. You know what I am talking about right, Dong Ki?”

The Leader suddenly turned to the silent Dong Ki, who stood nervously like the last freestanding statue of Lenin in Kiev.

“Huh?” responded Dong Ki.

Realizing that Dong Ki was patriot, the Leader softened and asked him, how he handled the one hour delay of broadcasts when daylight saving time was in effect.

Without a thought, Dong Ki responded, “Anal with my girlfriend.”

“Anal… Classic… Classic,” gushed the Leader as he fist bumped Dong Ki, “Anal… maybe I will try it this year.”

Sensing a deflection in the mad man’s focus, Dimitroff said “Okie dok. Thanks for your time Great Leader. I will see myself out,” and absconded from the scene.

“Yo wait. I got a Bears-Packers game in ten. Don’t you want to see the Packers deflate the Bear’s ball sack?”

“Maybe next time, Great Leader,” echoed Dimitroff’s voice.