Crimea And Punishment

Raskolnikov should really have gotten into Nintendo.

Raskolnikov dropped into a high-backed, Romanov-like chair. The kind of chair Rasputin would sit in. He stared deep into the eyes of Ilya Petrovitch.

“It was I…” began Raskolnikov.

“Drink some water.”

Raskolnikov shook his head. It was too late for beverages.

“It was I who killed Putin.”

Ilya Petrovitch gasped, instantly regretting offering water to a murderer.

“He invaded the Ukraine,” explained Raskolnikov. “My philosophical sensibilities could not permit it. If this kind of thing had happened anywhere else in the world, the international community would have stopped it by now.”

“No,” replied Ilya Petrovitch. “That is impossible.”

Ilya Petrovitch peered around to make sure the room was empty. And it was. It was as empty as a Baskin Robbins in Siberia. He whispered, “Because no one killed Putin.” Ilya Petrovitch snatched off his wig like a Russian nesting doll, revealing himself to be Putin. In a plumber costume.

They sprang to their feet and faced off.

“I was protecting the rights of an ethnic minority,” yelled Putin, throwing a Tornado punch and knocking Raskolnikov up to 15% damage.

“But that’s the logic Hitler used to annex the Sudetenland,” argued Raskolnikov, sidestepping the swing. “How dare you do the same with Crimea?” Raskolnikov shell-smashed Putin. “And then Germany of all places became the mediator. It didn’t make sense!”

“What are you making such a big deal about it?” asked Putin, doing some crazy kind of double flip star-throwing thing. “I will only use force as a last resort!”

“You already used force!” shouted Raskolnikov, doing his own double flip star-throwing thing to block Putin’s. “That’s how this whole thing got started!”

Putin launched an Electric Dive Attack. “The U.S. is no different!” Putin shouting. “They’re just protecting their interests in the Ukraine!” They retreated to opposite sides of the room to charge.

“But the U.S. is at least trying to—”

“Why are we always talking about the U.S., anyway?”

“‘Cause they’re always getting invol—”

“But why? They’re on the other side of the world.”

“But if you’re a powerful country, do you not have a responsibility to—”

“A democratic government is just supposed to be the collective will of its citizens. U.S. citizens don’t care about Crimea,” argued Putin.

“Citizens don’t have time to become experts on foreign affairs. They work and have lives outside of politics. That’s the government’s job.”

“It’s a government’s job to protect the interests of its citizens!”

Raskolnikov threw a Falcon Punch! at Putin just as Putin let loose a Ganandorf’s U-Smash. The attacks hit Raskolnikov and Putin at the same time, and it was as clear as the vodka in a bottle on the head of a Russian bottle dancer in The Fiddler on the Roof that they were both finished. The two were instantly thrown off the world.

As usual, it was a glorious day for Mother Russia.

- I. Strauss

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