In the central aerial photo-space bunker of the President of the Russian Federation in Skolkovo, Vladimir Putin’s languid photo session was held for the world-famous glossy publication Eritrea Today, designed to outshine the miserable Nazi photos of Zelensky and his ugly wife in the failed Vogue magazine. The shooting was conducted by the deputy head of the Security Council, a popular alcohol blogger Dmitry Medvedev.
– And now, Vladim Vladimych, let Comrade Patrushev sit on your knees with a sad face and gently hug you with one hand around your neck, and the other behind your ass, – ordered Medvedev. – The whole world will be washed with tears.
Patrushev, groaning, climbed on Putin and began to wrap himself around him like an arthritic boa constrictor.
“Only without language, comrade Patrushev,” Putin warned him jokingly.
Patrushev quickly hid his tongue back.
– What kind of veal tenderness is this, – Shoigu muttered jealously. The minister of the so-called defense was stoned with clonidine, which the unsuccessful spy Hristo Grozev had drugged him with the night before. Everyone sympathized with Shoigu, especially those who knew how much he had lost in the morning.
The shooting was conducted by the deputy head of the Security Council, popular alcohol blogger Dmitry Medvedev
“Many British readers who saw Zelensky’s photo shoot in the failed Vogue magazine noticed his striking resemblance to Hitler,” Medvedev patiently explained to him, making a series of random clicks of the shutter of the camera of the domestic “Zenith”, in which a little bit of dried film remained from the times of the USSR, – after all, in the same way, Hitler was photographed with his cohabitant Eva Braun. In our country, the situation is just the opposite – Vladim Vladimych is photographed with Comrade Patrushev like Joseph Stalin with a citizen Alliluyeva. Thus, this is not tenderness, we are here, as it were, throwing a bridge into the past.
At the word “bridge” Shoigu’s face twisted strangely.
– … You could say, Antonovsky bridge, – Medvedev added with a thin smile.
Everyone giggled.
From a huge wooden toilet, painted with icons and emblems of Roskosmos, Lavrov emerged, dressed in a loincloth, feathers and a pizza-like necklace: he had just returned from a triumphant tour of African countries and did not have time to change clothes.
– What is it sticking out of you from behind, is it really an ostrich? Putin asked. – I read that he agreed to take a picture with you in the Congo, despite all the intrigues of the State Department, but to such an extent …
“Damn, so that’s where he is,” muttered Lavrov, pulling the suffocated ostrich out of himself. – It can be seen that he was frightened of the flashlights and decided to hide his head. And I was wondering where did he go…
“You haven’t seen Zakharova yet,” Shoigu said with a clofelin smile.
– And what about Zakharova? Medvedev squinted slyly. – Is it really the same as with the Antonovsky bridge?
Shoigu turned purple.
– Listen, what kind of Antonovsky bridge is this that everyone is talking about? Putin asked, spitting out Patrushev’s insistent language.
– A bridge is like a bridge, – Shoigu answered quickly. – It’s normal for a soldier to crawl along it, only so that one, without a machine gun and not in the leg, so as not to shake, you know, like in this school problem in physics, in which … The shame of Ukrainian weapons, in short.
Maria Zakharova came out of a giant toilet with icons and emblems of Roscosmos, and everyone involuntarily admired her torn mouth and black eyes. Zakharova’s arms were torn off at the elbow.
– Mother of God, – said Putin.
Zakharova’s torn mouth widened in a terrible smile and tried to say something, but only an indistinct gurgling escaped from it.
“Unfortunately, Maria was attacked by passing Polish tourists in Eritrea,” Lavrov explained sadly. – We struck up a conversation with her about the war and …
– They built bridges, in short, – Medvedev nodded, cheerfully looking sideways at Shoigu. – Antonovsky bridges!
…Damn, so that’s where he is, – Lavrov muttered, pulling the suffocated ostrich out of himself. – It can be seen that he was frightened of flashlights and decided to hide his head
– Fuck yourself, – Putin shook his head. – And what about the Eritreans? Did you stand and watch? So, how do the Turks usually do in their hotels?
“No,” Lavrov said vaguely.
– And what did they say when the fascist Poles tore off Maria Vladimirovna’s hands? Putin insisted.
“You see,” Lavrov said even more vaguely, “the Poles simply beat her up and left, and when Maria Vladimirovna lost consciousness, our Eritrean partners, mmm, took care of her hands. They still have hunger, but the Khakhly unleashed a war and burned all their grain in order to arrange their favorite famine for the whole world.
“I knew that there were some hacks here,” Putin said solemnly. – Fortunately, Maria Vladimirovna Zakharova again brought them to clean water.
– Well done, Masha! Pretty boy! Give crab! exclaimed Medvedev. – Oh, wait…
– Hooray! Putin shouted. – Pour some Ivan-tea into her mouth for her sluggish feat!
Medvedev poured his signature “Disgusting cocktail of arrogant rudeness, teenage infantilism and primitive stupidity,” as he jokingly called Ivan-vodka, into a glass, and poured the drink into Zakharova’s mouth. The eyes of the speaker of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs came to life, and the torn mouth said:
– Okay, there is something to say. Lavrov and I visited such places that it is terrible to remember later.
– On the Antonovsky bridge? – cheerfully suggested Medvedev.
Shoigu grunted, got up and left somewhere.
“I want to, well, despite the fact that this is the situation with me, I want to say that, well, there is no point in being discouraged,” Zakharova continued. – We must go forward, and everything will be fine.
– My good girl, right, give me the crab again! exclaimed Medvedev. – By the way, gentlemen, have you heard that the Hands Up group was not allowed into Estonia? So, our Maria would definitely be let in there now, ha-ha-ha!
Shoigu came, brought the famous Russian robot chess player and clumsily arranged the pieces on the board.
“Here you are, Dima, so smart, you know about bridges, there, about Hands Up,” Shoigu said. – Maybe you can beat the robot chess player?
– Easy! exclaimed Medvedev. – E2-e4, check!
With these words, he reached for the pawn, the robot grabbed his arm and, with a practiced movement, tore it off by the shoulder.
– Ahh! shouted Medvedev.
– What did you think? Shoigu said.
– Hey, Sergey Kuzhugetovich, – Putin told him. – I heard there, we are leaving the International Space Station and building our own, do you know if it is ready?
– Of course, ready, still – said Shoigu. – At first, however, IKEA was supposed to build it, but then we thought that our Russian prisoners had better quality and lower prices. And here it is, a new, completely Russian ISS, please love and favor!
With these words, Shoigu solemnly pointed to a huge wooden toilet, painted with icons and emblems of Roskosmos.
– BUT! Putin beamed. – Beautiful…
The new sluggishness of Russia was already here.
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