The two communists fingers are loosely entwined as they board the plane. Naturally, both are unrecognisable dressed in wigs and fake beards as imagine the uproar if they were to be recognised by the general public! They would not only have to explain the small matter of immortality but also how they could bear to be seen out and about in such ghastly outfits.
The night before Josef had decided it was time for his partner to meet his mother - a momentous occasion in any relationship but even more tense in this case as Stalin had openly referred to his mother as an "old whore" for the last forty years.
Stalin raps on the big wooden door but not before taking a few deep breaths and composing himself. He had to be prepared to grovel. All of a sudden the door is flung open and a women of small stature but wild hair stood brandishing a poker. Despite her height the woman presents a foreboding character, even more so as she begun to hit her son with the poker. "That's for visiting me just once in the past forty years" she screeches "and this one's for not coming to my funeral!" Khrushchev stood puzzled some distance behind Stalin - how could his mother be alive if she'd had a funeral? Then he remembered sense was overrated.
He steps forward and introduces himself.
"M..mother" Josef stutters "this is my soon to be husband!"
"Oh so you're gay now as well as a tyrant?" Stalins mother screeches and next thing he knew he was lying face down in the muddy street.
"Well that went as well as could be expected..." Khrushchev titters cautiously..
Stalin stands up and shakes himself off.
Who said he needed that old bats approval anyway?
He grabs Khrushchev's little finger and coyly smiles at him. "We don't need my mothers blessing! Let's get this wedding planning started!"
And thus began a whirlwind of colourful streamers, exuberant bouquets and divine looking cake samples. The news of the wedding whipped round the communist haven in Venezuela like wildfire, everybody clamouring for a creamy white invitation or just to somehow be involved in this great day which promised to celebrate two individuals who, against the odds, were in love.
Whilst wedding planners work up a storm around them the soon to be Mr. and Mr. Stalin take a backseat role, simply enjoying each other's company as they gaze off into the setting sun, half empty glasses of white wine adorn the table beside them. Oh how lucky they felt!
YOU ARE READING
A Very Communist Love Story
FanfictionEver wondered what the real Stalin was like? Well now you can discover the man behind the mass killings and ruthlessness. Did you really think he was dead? Well bitch, think again!
