Oh, comrades. My boy sure is making a big splash these days! I’ve known my Vladdy was destined for a global presence since he was a little tot in preschool.
Vladimir would spend most of his time working in order to further the Soviet vision, of course. During his five-minute break, he would read the works of Marx, Lenin, and Engels, and he was always quite philosophical. One time I asked him which he preferred, the sickle or the hammer. It tools weeks for him to speak again, but he finally answered, “It depends how large my opponent is.” Already such a passionate, militant boy at four years old.
But I don’t think anyone, he nor I, realized his gift until he was about seven. In the second grade, when he and his comrades first learned about carrots, Vladimir forced the local carrots vendors to raise prices for classmates who didn’t pledge allegiance to him. Then, young Vladimir took his classmates’ carrots for himself. Genius.
He also had a strong passion for ice hockey. He’s a very strong player. No one dares defend him. Maybe it’s because they know Siberian gulags get colder than the ice rink…
I do remember Vladimir befriending several Ukrainian boys at a young age. They were quite close, but then they realized the similarity between the first syllable of my boy’s last name and “poo.” Safe to say, Vladimir stopped seeing them around after they went on a vacation up north.
Anywho, say hi to Vladimir if you see him. He hasn’t visited my gravesite in a while, and I don’t think he’s very busy right now.
