The Communist Manifestation

It was a quiet winter night in the Kremlin, and Josef Stalin was kicking back. He was in his favorite hammer-and-sickle patterned boxer shorts, and opened one of his favorite magazines, The Gulag Digest. He was reading an article on the recent purges, when Uncle Joe remembered what the day was.

It's the anniversary of Trotsky's assassination! he snickered. Leon Trotsky sure got the axe.

Stalin remembered how warm and fuzzy he felt when he heard that Trotsky was assassinated by an axe-welding Mexican guy, doing his bidding. Stalin snickered again at the pun.

I love it when I make myself laugh! Stalin thought to himself.

Just then, he heard a wrapping at the door. The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on end. Something told Stalin to run like hell. Instead, Stalin slowly approach the door. The wrapping was now a pounding.

Pull yourself together, Stalin! It's probably just Zhukov with some more vodka! he reasoned as he through open the door.

What Stalin saw caused him to wet his pants. There was the unmistakable, pale form of Trotsky. There was even a hatchet stuck in his head. The ghost began to speak. "What, where you expecting maybe Rasputin?" it asked.

Stalin did not take the time to respond. Instead, he turned and ran as fast as he could. He could hear the ghost moving faster behind him. He turned and saw the Trotsky-ghost had pulled the hatchet out of his head and was now preparing to chop. Stalin ran up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom. He sat on the toilet and caught his breath.

However, Trotsky could not be so easily stopped. The axe blade hacked through the door, until there was a large hole. Soon enough, Trotsky popped his head through. "Here's Trotsky!" the Communist manifestation yelled.

Stalin, by this time, was quite scared. Trotsky's head, still in the door, yelled to Stalin. "I've come back from the dead, and I'm taking you with me!"

"No, please! I never meant to kill you! It was all Lenin's fault!" Stalin pleaded.

"Sorry, but for making puns that bad, you deserve an agonizing and painful end," Trotsky's face turned into an evil grin. With that, Stalin passed out.

When he awoke, he found he was in the bathroom, chained with his face in the toilet bowl. Stalin, of course, did not believe in flushing, so it was backed up with fowl-smelling floaters of all varieties. Trotsky's voice echoed behind him. "So, Joey, you've got two choices. You can drown yourself in the toilet bowl, or you can listen to this type of music the Americans call 'country.' Quite painful, if I do say so myself."

"I'll take the toilet bowl!" Stalin pleaded, right before dunking his head in.

Trotsky could not help but feel avenged as Stalin finally croaked. Even being a ghost, he noted the bathroom smelled slightly better than an average Frenchwoman, but somewhat worse than something the Americans called a 'latrine.' Trotsky knew what awaited Stalin in Hell. He would be forced to watch a video called Charles du Gaulle Gone Wild while he would be forced to 'share' himself with a group of chainsaw maniacs. Oh, what a fun sight it would be! And with that, Trotsky departed. '