The world is a sad and frightening place right now. Each time I turn on the news, I hear about the war in Ukraine. So to make myself feel better, I wrote a story which I’ll share with you
“It will be easy,” Putin the Powerful assured his oligarch friends. “As soon as our troops get near the capital, that little scoundrel will hop on a plane and flee. And then we’ll march in, restore order and Ukraine will be ours.”
The following week, however, Zelensky the Brave opted to stay in Kyiv and fight. People around the world started wearing badges of yellow and blue, boycotting Russian goods and singing the Ukrainian anthem:
Glorious spirit of Ukraine shines and lives forever.
Blessed by Fortune brotherhood will stand up together.
Like the dew before the sun enemies will fade,
We will further rule and prosper in our promised land.
“This is terrible,” Boris, the rich oligarch, said to his wife, Anya . “They’ve shut down the air flights, frozen our accounts. Now we can’t enjoy our nice penthouse on Park Avenue. And I know how much you were so looking forward to taking the grandchildren there to watch the St. Paddy’s Day Parade.”
“Can’t you do something?” she said. “The servants are all complaining how they can’t afford to buy a loaf of bread, the ruble is so worthless. They’re asking for their salaries in Crypto.”
Throughout the Russian Federation, the privileged were having similar conversations. Meanwhile the few non- government controlled media outlets were being shut down and thousands of citizens were being arrested for expressing opposition to the Ukrainian invasion.
Boris paced in his $700 wingtips. “I’m working on it,” he said. “Ever since that stooge Trump didn’t get in the Whitehouse again, I warned them all that Biden would mend the discord with the European Union. Invading Ukraine was not a good idea.”
Anya fingered her diamond necklace and sighed. “Well, you better do something fast. He’s liable to explode a nuclear bomb, considering how close he came blowing up a nuclear power plant.”
“It’s true,” Oligarch Boris said, “And when our Russian soldiers come home in body bags, the sparks are going to fly. We do have this poison. If we could just get close enough to Putin, to put it in his tea… I think that’s why he makes us sit on the other end of that 30 ft. table.”
The following week, head of the secret police stood to deliver his report to Putin, the Powerful. “ We’ve shut down all the media platforms, got rid of Facebook, twitter and the last of the independent broadcast stations,” he said, “ but I’m not sure how we can stop the letters.”
“What letters?”
“The ones they keep smuggling in from Ukraine. With the wounded. In the body bags. Letters to their relatives and friends in Russia.”
“Well find those letters you fool. Burn them,” Putin snarled, “ Don’t stand here telling me about it. We can’t let the people know what’s really going on there. And if you can’t get the job done, I’ll have you replaced.”
“Yes sir,” he nodded, while all the while thinking, another few weeks we’ll be ready to kill this tyrant the same way Putin always arranged to oust his own enemies. Softly to himself the Chief of police was singing:
Souls and bodies we’ll lay down, all for freedom, And we will show that we, brothers, are of the Cossack nation!
Souls and bodies we’ll lay down, all for freedom, And show that we, brothers, are of the Cossack nation!
Putin, on the other side of the room, was too far away to hear him. Giddy with his omnipotence, he was already thinking about which adjacent nation he planned to conquer next.
Follow Nadja Maril on twitter at SN Maril. Read a flash piece by Nadja in Gastropoda . Check out her author page
Nadja Maril, Writer & Author 