Ukrainian Politics: Part 1

This place reminds me of Claude. He may have been British, but he drank like a Ukrainian. But it does smell better, at least.

"So, uh...we're here," I said. The Haitian just stared at me. "What do we do now?"

"You're the boss."

"That I am, but this was your idea."

"Oh, yeah."

"So, what do we do?"

"I don't know."

"Why'd we come here?"

"I don't remember."

"Did you touch yourself again?"

The Haitian pointed toward a building. "There," he said.

"Wow," I replied. The glow from the bright yellow arches was mesmorizing. "They really do have McDonald's everywhere."

We went inside and walked up to the counter.

"Yak blah blee blah ta tre?" the counter man said, or so it sounded.

I turned to The Haitian and whispered, "This is why we need to require immigrants learn English before seeking employment."

"We are the immigrants."

"Ha! Funny." I turned to the counter guy. "You know, I used to be like you, minus the funny talk, before I discovered paper. See?" I pulled a picture out of my wallet and pointed at the youthful me.



"Buddha llama cha cra suzzie Q," the guy said.

"Thanks," I replied.

"He wants our order," The Haitian interrupted.

We managed to relay our order to the hairy little fellow. A few minutes later we were sitting down enjoying our bounty. The Haitian was playing with his Happy Meal toy, when I noticed a horrific sight outside. A group of people were protesting! What's worse is they were protesting The US of that other letter. If there's one thing I hate more than freedom of speech combined with assembly it's America-bashing! I slammed my fist on the table, crushing The Haitian's toy. He shed a tear. I was impressed by his patriotism for his adopted nation.

"Hey, you loony foreigners!" I shouted storming out of the McDonald's. "Don't mess with Texas!"

The protesters stared me down, and I stared right back. Things are about to get ugly, cross-cultural ugly.

TO BE CONTINUED....