Chapter Nine

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Stalin paced up and down the kitchen of the mansion he had just purchased with his soon to be husband Nikita Khrushchev.

How could it be possible that he was no longer the macho figure that made the capitalist west shake at his very presence? He couldn't possibly live being the laughing stock of the world. Had everybody forgotten his accomplishments? The purges? The millions of innocent people he sent to the gulag to die? Did the modern world not realise how trying those tasks were?

Josef stroked his impeccable moustache. He had no option but to get to work.

Hours later Stalin emerged with a victorious grin stretching from ear to ear. He'd done his research. What makes people love Russian dictators? Publishing photos of them atop bears of course! Stalin knew the instant such a picture was released people would be flocking to worship him.

There was only one problem. He lived in Venezuela - a notoriously hot country wherein one is rather unlikely to come across a grizzly bear.

He'd have to make one!

The very next morning every communist that's worth anything awoke, bright eyed, ready to help the most attractive of them to convince the world of his godliness.

Fidel Castro got to work knitting a bear suit, good old Vlad Lenin was convinced to be the back half of the costume and Kim Il-Sung, the once revered leader of North Korea was the front.

Dusk had just begun to creep in from beyond the horizon when everything was ready.

Stalin mounted Lenin and Kim Il-Sung and posed, his smouldering eyes looking directly into the camera lens.

Moments later the striking portraits of Stalin were being released to the world, advertised as having been recently 'discovered' in a long lost vault.

Stalin had expected an immediate influx of praise, commenters falling over themselves to praise the mighty and powerful soviet dictator, who was brave enough to ride a wild bear.

Alas... nothing.

Worry lines appeared on Stalin's brow. Had he been forgotten? Perhaps he needed to have killed more people to secure his place in the history books?

Just when former mass murderer was about to give up hope and commit himself to a lifetime of obscurity, his story started to get attention.

But not in the way he so desired... he had become.. I dread to say it. A meme..

Stalin was aghast. How could this possibly happen to him, of all people! He used to walk in a room and everyone in it used to begin to shake and stutter - oh how far he'd fallen!

Stalin fell deep into a pit of gloominess. Why did he worry so much about his reputation and how others perceived him if this was what he'd be rewarded with? Stalin could not imagine a way to come back from this dreadful incident. How ever could he be respected in the streets of Venezuela again?

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