Saturday, October 27, 2007

Ukrainian Politics: Part 3

Continued from Part 2....

And then I was squished by the giant McDonald's sign and died.

Kidding. I narrowly escaped death! That's sort of my thing. I'm always narrowly escaping death, be it from Sylar, Primatech or giant McDonald's arches. Yep, nothing on Earth can kill me. Telekinesis, ha! Bullets, ha ha! Advertising, ha ha ha! Yes, I laugh in the face of my would-be killers. I'm the unstoppable man in the horn-rimmed glasses, after all.

So what really happened about the falling McDonald's sign? Well, it came crashing down around me. I remained standing safely inside the gap of the left arch. The crazy Ukrainian mob went even crazier. They started jumping up and down in excitement from having seen the symbolic fall of their corporate enemy. They yelled things like "ми переміг!" which means "we won!".

Hey, I know Ukrainian? That's odd. I guess Primatech trained me in it back in the day. All this time I thought those guys were talking gibberish.

They were so proud at the havoc they wreaked that I couldn't help joining in on the enthusiasm. I hopped around with them chanting "Boo, Ronald McDonald!" in Ukrainian.

"Haitian," I said to my companion, "You going to celebrate with us?"

"No. I am erasing this man's memory, like you asked."

"Oh, yeah. You do that."

Down the road, I could hear and see the поліцiя coming (that means police). They were whistling their whistles and waving their hands. At first, I thought they were celebrating the destruction as well. I high fived the first one to arrive.

He pulled a gun on me. I had no choice but to pull mine on him. We had a classic Ukrainian showdown on our hands.

Then the crazy mob attacked him! They just stampeded him. It was so fast, I couldn't tell what all happened, but when the cop got back to his feet, he was in nothing but his boxers and is whistle was in his ear. "Poor guy," I said.

All this hoopla was making me uneasy. I'm in the Ukraine for a top secret mission, and here I am being distracted by local struggles. I thanked the crazy mob for the entertainment and said, "поздороаляю! я залишати тепер."

They waved bye and The Haitian and I walked off, dragging Mr. Smarty Pants Ukrainian with us.

"What are we going to do with him?" The Haitian asked.

"I promised the wife I'd bring home a souvenir."

1 comment:

Claire B said...

And what did you get for me?