Even before the rave party hosted by Australia’s Tony A. for the group of twenty kids who go by the collective name of G20 (some big, some small, some in glad rags, others in threadbare hand-me-downs but all come for free booze, wild music, exotic food and juicy snippets of the latest gossip) aboard the Brisbane vessel, was truly over, a petulant Putin left in a huff, slamming the door shut! My, my, now who bullied poor Volodya to make him leave for home, all red in the face, even before the party was over?
Russian Roulette, Anyone?
Why, it was none other than Angie M. who was making a habit of harrying the boys! Volodya dear only wanted to play in his Ukrainian backyard, didn’t he? Granted, he wanted to do so all by himself and pushed his poor Ukrainian cousins a bit. Why make such a big deal out of it? It was, after all, his backyard, not Angie’s. Nor were the cousins hers, kissing or not. Don’t we all push our poor cousins around a bit once in a while lest they should feel left out of all the action and fun? Could Volodya’s cousins play, pray tell me, the Russian Roulette? No! If you don’t understand Russian sports, whose fault is it? Do they have a belt, apart from the one which they keep tightening all the time and especially on wintry days, let alone a black one to match Volodya’s? You are right, no again! Angie doesn’t understand Volodya’s concern for the health of his poor cousins who may develop, he was afraid, a horrid squint and a stiff neck, looking West all the time, and run the risk of dying some day of lead poisoning.
Cake and Pie
A much misunderstood guy, our Volodya, could be heard muttering under his breath while leaving the party, that he would be perfectly happy with his Ukrainian pie if Angie and her gang grudged him a piece of the G20 cake. As a matter of fact, he was angling for both the cake and the pie, as he recalled with a smile on his face like the Cheshire Cat. Well, so what if he had lost the battle of Brisbane? You win some and lose some. It happens with people all the time, doesn’t it? Thank God or Marx or whoever, the Ukrainian campaign was still on! What was important was that he would show them all that he was no push over!
Trying to Bully No-nonsense Naren
Remember what Angie told our own Naren the other day about his hiding the German book in the class? After all, it was his own book, wasn’t it? He has to catch up with his Sanskrit homework too which he had been neglecting for some time now. Besides, studying German all the time allows him no time to play (in his backyard!) and makes him a dull boy.
Why is Angie such a ‘spielverderber’ (spoilsport in German, for the uninitiated) and a party-pooper? Growing up fast, is she? Rather big for her shoes, did you say? Hmm…. An interesting thought, no doubt!
Ganging Up against V.
Now, let us get back to Volodya before he starts feeling more and more neglected. Besides being bullied by Angie, Volodya had a couple of brats who preferred to swear in German after downing German Lager to swearing in Russian after gulping Russian Vodka, ganging up against Volodya. Like Barry O’, from the US, Steve H. from Canada, and David C. from the UK who sported an indifferent attitude and saw to V’s left, right and even through him but never at him. When Volodya confronted them with a feigned bonhomie and his famous steely handshake, they all grimaced and told him “Get out of the U. backyard”. These were the very same kids who, along with Angry Angie black-balled him from their ‘fishing-in-troubled-waters’, ‘pass-the-democracy’, ‘anything-goes-for-oil’, ‘no-carbon-emissions-in-third world-countries’ and ‘no-nuclear-power-to-non-allies’ games. They had spread canards like Volodya was no respecter of established rules and played games by his own rules. What they didn’t understand was why Volodya couldn’t go to the distant shores of the Gulf, Africa or Asia and play his wild game of ‘shoot-and-loot’ like they all did from time to time. Such a reckless game couldn’t be allowed in a European backyard, no matter how desultory it was, was their unanimous opinion.
Take a Dig and Drink Bloody Mary
Now at the Brisbane bash, Angie was seen cribbing that much more needed to be done to chastise Volodya who didn’t at all seem upset by their boycott. “This won’t do,” she repeatedly told those within earshot, shaking her well-coiffured head. Volodya ignored the short shrift and remained unshaken unlike his martini which he liked “shaken, not stirred”. He had a certain ‘bond’ing like the other tough guy from London, with whom he shared interests in fast cars and fast women. When he saw the ice maiden Angie taking a dig at his name and said she didn’t see why he was called PUTin when all he did was puttin’ people out, he raised his glass to her and mumbled the words “Bloody Mary to you too”.
As the evening seemed to grow longer and interminable, he became wistful of his Russian Vodka. Stifling a yawn, he told all those who cared to listen, “Well, it has been a long day. Wanna go home and catch up with the Vodka session with my best pal Dima (short form for Dmitry, for the uninitiated),” making it sound like “Well, I have a long way to go home and want to catch up with lost sleep before I get ready to go bully my poor cousins of U. Monday morning.” His “Good bye” was greeted by a chorus of “Good riddance” from all around, which was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. A petulant Volodya left the burning decks of the Brisbane Titanic for the ‘cold’ comfort at home, slamming the door of the banquet hall on his way out, hoping to give somebody a bloody nose.
Words of Wisdom
The wise warrior lives to fight another day. – Ancient Oriental saying
The wise warrior ducks to meet his enemy up a dark alley on a moonless night. – Ancient Russian saying
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