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Hi my name is Nikolai Dark'ness Nukelear Khrushchev and I have short white hair that's sort of falling out and tiny glasses and I'm always squinting in photos so that my eye colour is mysterious and secret and a lot of people tell me I look like Josef Stalin (AN: if u don't know who he is get da hell out of her!). I'm not related to Fidel Castro, but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a communist but I'm still pretty rich. I'm also a politician and I lead a country called the USSR in Europe. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a grey suit with a matching grey tie and a heap of military badges on it. I was walking outside the USSR. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of capitalists stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

"Hey Khrushchev!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was..... John F Kennedy!

"What's up Kennedy?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said shyly.

But then, I heard my countrymen call me and I had to go away.

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The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I went over to my guillotine and drank the blood of the bourgeois. My guillotine was made of sturdy oak, with a shining metal blade. I put on a granite coloured suit and tie and some sensible shoes and my wire framed spactales and then I brushed my balding hair.


My friend, the ghost of Josef Stalin (AN: comrades dis is u!) woke up then and grinned at me. He stroked his expressive moustache and opened his brown eyes. He put on his miliatary outfit and medals and his miltary cap.


“OMFG, I saw you talking to John F. Kennedy yesterday!” he said exitedly.


“Yeah? So?” I said, blushing.


“Do you like Kennedy?” he asked as we went out of the Kremlin and into Moscow.


“No I so fucking don’t!” I shouted.


“Yeah right!” he exclaimed. Just then, Kennedy walked up to me.


“Hi.” he said.


“Hi.” I repled flirtily.


“Guess what.” he said.


“What?” I asked.


“Well, Marx and Engels are having a speech in Cuba.” he told me.


“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” I screamed. I love Marx and Engels. They’re my favourite communist, besides Stalin (AN: b4 he was da ghost bro).


“Well… do you want to go with me?” he asked.


I gasped.

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On the night of the speech I put on my best ashen suit and tie and my most polished and sensibliest pair of black shoes. I washed my hair so that it would be all fluffy and soft. I felt a little depressed then, so I bought some more sugar from Castro so he wouldn’t have to sell it to the capitalists. I read Dictatorship for Dummies while I waited for it to arrive and I listened to one of Marks and Engals speechs on audiobook. Then I straigtened my tie. I spread more communist influences through eastern europe so I was ready to go to the speech.


I went outside. Kennedy was waiting there in front of his newclear submarie. He was wearing a snazzy red tie and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo wrld leadors wer it ok!).


“Hi Kennedy!” I said in a depressed voice.


“Hi Krushchev.” he said back. We climbed into his black Fleet Ballistic Missile Submarine (the license plate said 666) and sailed to Cuba. On the way we listened to the Beatles. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the sub. We got seats at the front of the auditorium and listened intently to Marks and Engals.


“The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles. Freeman and slave, patrician and plebeian, lord and serf, guild-master and journeyman, in a word, oppressor and oppressed, stood in constant opposition to one another, carried on an uninterrupted, now hidden, now open fight, a fight that each time ended, either in a revolutionary reconstitution of society at large, or in the common ruin of the contending classes.” said Marks (I don’t own da words 2 da communist manifesto).


“Marks is so fucking hot.” I said to Kennedy, pointing to him as he spoke, filling the auditorium with his amazing voice.


Suddenly Kennedy looked sad.


“What’s wrong?” I asked as we listened to the music. Then I caught on.

“Hey, it’s ok I don’t like him better than YOU.” I said.


“Really?” asked Kennedy sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.


“Really.” I said. “Besides I don’t even know Marks and he’s going out with Kim fucking II-sung. I fucking hate that little asshole.” I said disgustedly, thinking of his ugly face.


The night went on really well and I had a great time. So did Kennedy. After the speech, we drank some beer and asked Engals and Marks for their autographs and photos with them. We got copies of the communist manifesto. Kennedy and I crawled into the Fleet Ballistic Missile Submarine, but Kennedy didn’t go back to Moscow, instead he saild the sub into… the Iron Curtain!

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“KENNEDY!” I shouted. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”


Kennedy didn’t answer but he stopped the newclear sub and he climbed out of it. I climbed out of it too, curiously.


“What the fucking hell?” I asked angrily.


“Khrushchev?” he asked.


“What?” I snapped.


Kennedy leaned in extra-close and I looked into his capitalistic red eyes (capitalists are evil) which revealed so much understanding of the plight of the working class and suddenly I didn’t feel mad anymore.


And then… suddenly just as I Kennedy kissed me passionately. Kennedy climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took of my top and I took of his clothes. Then I put my newclear sub into his Cuban blockade and we found out who really had the largest stockpile.


“Oh! Oh! Oh!” I screamed. I was beginning to have a newclear detonation. We started to kiss everywhere and my body became all warm. And then…..




It was….Robert Kennedy!

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Robert Kennedy made and Kennedy and I follow him. He kept shouting at us angrily.


“You ludacris fools!” he shouted.


I started to cry tears of blood down my pallid face. Kennedy comforted me. When we went back to Moscow Robert Kennedy took us to Gonad Raegan and Hagret Hatchet who were both looking very angry.


“They were having sexual intercourse in the Iron Curtain!” he yelled in a furious voice.


“Why did you do such a thing, you mediocre dunces?” asked Hagret Hatchet.


“How dare you?” demanded Gonad Raegan.


And then Kennedy shrieked. “BECAUSE I LOVE HIM!”


Everyone was quiet. Robert Kennedy and Hatchet still looked mad but Raegan said. “Fine. Very well. You may go up to your rooms.”


Kennedy and I went upstairs while the bourgeois glared at us.


“Are you ok Khrushchev?” Kennedy asked me gently.


“Yeah I guess.” I lied. I went to the Kremlin and brushed my teeth and hair and changed into a charcoal suit and tie. When I came out…


Kennedy was standing in front of the bathroom, and he started to recite the communist manifesto by Marks and Engals. I was so flattered, even though he wasn’t supposed to be there. We hugged and kissed. After that, we said goodnight and he reluctantly went back into the White House.

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The next day I woke up in my bedroom. I put on a cinereal suit and matching tie. I put on some polish black shoes.


In the Red Plaza, I ate some Count Chocula serial with blood instead of milk, and a glass of red blood. Suddenly someone bumped into me. All the blood spilled over my tie.


“Bastard!” I shouted angrily. I regretted saying it when I looked up cause I was looking into the face of a communist man with dark hair with a green beret on it. He was smoking a big cigar and had on a green military outfit. He had a manly beard on his chin. He had a sexy Cuban accent. He looked exactly like Liam Neeson. He was so sexy that my body went all hot when I saw him kind of like an erection only its none of your business whether I got one you sicko.


“I’m so sorry.” he said in a shy voice.


“That’s all right. What’s your name?” I questioned.


“My name’s Fidel Castro, although most people call me Dictator these days.” he grumbled.


“Why?” I exclaimed.


“Because I came to power in a military coup.” he giggled.


“Well, I am a dictator.” I confessed.


“Really?” he whimpered.


“Yeah.” I roared.


We sat down to talk for a while. Then Kennedy came up behind me and told me he had a surprise for me so I went away with him.

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Kennedy and I held our pale white hands with red nail polish as we went upstairs. I was wearing yellow communist symbols on my nails in yellow nail polish (AN: c doez dat sound lik a Mary Sue 2 u?). I waved to Dictator. Dark misery was in his depressed eyes. I guess he was jealous of me that I was going out with Kennedy. Anyway, I went upstairs exitedly with Kennedy. We went into the White House and locked the door. Then…


We started frenching passionately and we took off each others clothes enthusiastically. He felt me up before I took of my tie. Then I took off my heather suit and he took off his pants. We went on the bed and started making out naked and then he put his newclear stockpile in Turkey and we HAD SEX. (c is dat stupid?)


“Oh Kennedy, Kennedy!” I screamed while getting a newclear detonation when all of a sudden I saw a tattoo I had never seen before on Kennedy’s arm. It was a black heart with an arrow through it. On it in bloody communist writing were the words…. Dictator!


I was so angry.


“You bastard!” I shouted angrily, jumping out of the bed.


“No! No! But you don’t understand!” Kennedy pleaded. But I knew too much.


“No, you fucking idiot!” I shouted. “You probably have AIDs anyway!”


I put on my clothes all huffily and then stomped out. Kennedy ran out even though he was naked. He had a really big newclear stockpile but I was too mad to care. I stomped out and did so until I was in Dictator’s conference where he was having a meeting with Gonad Raegan and some other people.



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Everyone in the conference stared at me and then Kennedy came into the room even though he was naked and started begging me to take him back.


“Khrushchev, it’s not what you think!” Kennedy screamed sadly.


My friend Mikhail Gorbachev smiled at me understatedly. Gorby was kidnapped when he was born. His real parents were communists but Ayn Rand killed his mother and his father committed suicide because he was depressed about it. He still has nightmares about it and he is very haunted and depressed.


“What is it that you desire, you ridiculous dimwit!” Raegan demeaned angrily in his cold voice but I ignored him.


“Dictator, I can’t believe you cheated on me with Kennedy!” I shouted at him.


Everyone gasped.


I don’t know why Khrushchev was so mad at me. I had went out with Dictator for a while but then he broke my heart. He dumped me because he liked, McGeorge Bundy a stupid capitalist fucker. We were just good friends now. He had gone through horrible problems and now he was communist. (Haha, like I would hang out with a capitalist).


“But I’m not going out with Kennedy anymore!” said Dictator.


“Yeah fucking right! Fuck off, you bastard!” I screamed. I ran out of the room and into the Iron Curtain where I had lost my virility to Kennedy and then I started to bust into tears.

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I was so mad and sad. I couldn’t believe Kennedy for cheating on me. I began to cry against the tree where I did it with Kennedy.


Then all of a suddenly, an horrible woman with red eyes and a bob haircut and everything started flying towards me on a broomstick! She had a creepy smile (basically like Ayn Rand on google image search) and she was wearing all red but it was obvious she wasn’t communist. It was…. Ayn Rand!


“No!” I shouted in a scared voice but then Ayn Rand shouted “Everyone has the right to make his own decisions, but none has the right to force his decision on others!” and I couldn’t run away.


“From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs!” I shouted at her. Ayn Rand fell of her broom and started to scream. I felt bad for her even though I’m a sadist so I stopped.


“Khrushchev.” she yelled. “Thou must kill Dictator Castro!”


I thought about Dictator and his sexah eyes and his communist beard and how his face looks just like Liam Neeson. I remembered that Kennedy had said I didn’t understand, so I thought, what if Kennedy went out with Dictator before I went out with him and they broke up?


“No, Ayn Rand!” I shouted back.


Ayn Rand gave me a gun. “No! Please!” I begged.


“Thou must!” she yelled. “If thou does not, then I shall kill thy beloved Kennedy!”


“How did you know?” I asked in a surprised way.


Ayn Rand got a dude-ur-so-retarded look on her face. “I hath telekinesis.” she answered cruelly. “And if you doth not kill Dictator, then thou know what will happen to Kennedy!” she shouted. Then she flew away angrily on her broomstick.


I was so scared and mad I didn’t know what to do. Suddenly Kennedy came into the Iron Curtain.


“Kennedy!” I said. “Hi!”


“Hi.” he said back but his face was all sad. He was wearing white foundation and messy eyeliner kinda like a sickle (geddit) between Karlos Marks and Frederick Engals.


“Are you okay?” I asked.


“No.” he answered.


“I’m sorry I got all mad at you but I thought you cheated on me.” I expelled.


“That’s okay.” he said all depressed and we went back to Moscow together making out.

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I was really scared about Ayn Rand all day. I was even upset went to practice with my communist debate group Bloody Marxist Scythe. I am the lead debater of it. The other people in the band are Gorby, Dictator, Kennedy, Truman (although we call him Atomico now. He has white hair and glasses.) and Mao. Only today Kennedy and Dictator were depressed so they weren’t coming and we wrote speeches instead. I knew Kennedy was probably slitting his wrists (he wouldn’t die because he was bourgeoisie and the only way you can kill a bourgeois is with a g-u-i-l-l-o-t-i-n-e (there’s no way I’m writing that) or a gun) and Dictator was probably watching a depressing movie like The Manchurian Candidate. I put on a granite suit and a matching pair of pants. You might think I’m boring but I’m really not.


We were quoting a copy of “Das Kapital” and at the end of the chapta I suddenly bust into tears.


“Khrushchev! Are you OK?” Gorby asked in a concerted voice.


“What the fuck do you think?” I asked angrily. And then I said. “Well, Ayn Rand came and the fucking bastard told me to fucking kill Fidel! But I don’t want to kill him, because, he’s really nice, even if he did go out with Kennedy. But if I don’t kill Fidel, then Ayn Rand, will fucking kill Kennedy!” I burst into tears.


Suddenly Kennedy jumped out from behind a wall.


“Why didn’t you fucking tell me!” he shouted. “How could you- you- you fucking poser capitalist bastard!” (c is dat out of character?)


I started to cry and cry. Kennedy started to cry too all sensitive. Then he ran out crying.


We practiced for one more hour. Then suddenly Robot Kennedy walked in angrily! His eyes were all fiery and I knew this time it wasn’t cause he had a headache.


“What have you done!” He started to cry wisely. (c dats basically nut swering and dis time he wuz relly upset n u wil c y). “Khrushchev Kennedy has been found in the White House. He committed suicide by getting shot in da head.”