On the Wings of Hope: Prose (Recognized)

America speaks

"Hello, hullo, ladies and gentlemen, misters and sisters! We are glad to... Heck, I'm going to think and speak like I am a foreigner with such a speed! Ghm, I'm sorry, my respected watch-ers, see-ers, stare-ers, and finally just the ones, who did not find anything better than to simply roll on a sofa in front of the TV this silent Sunday evening! 'Russia News' telecast is in the ether, and I, its permanent, though not immortal, figure, Vladimir Vladimirovich Pupkin.

Yes, all of us have awaited this unforgettable and inexcusable moment for a long while – and it has come at the long last! After showing numerous respects, accustoming and toadying of our journalists he finally agreed to give an exclusive interview in our, Russian television studio, located in Chicago. The One elected for the sake of freedom and democracy in all civilized North American continent. The One who received the Award of Peace on the public which was shocked and stunned by such impudence. One who prefers to conduct a vegetarian way of life without departing from the White House. One who has promised so much, and will promise even more. Taliban's bane and Al-Kaide's horror. A needle in a haystack, a genius among those who lack talent, wise man among fools, a ray of light in the empire of darkness, damn it! But, enough of flatter epithets! Meet Barrack Hussein Obama, the president of the Jointed States of America in person!"

The door slams open in a television studio and Barrack Obama enters. His face, even black, is saddened even more, dark streams of unknown origin flow down his once snow-white shirt. His eyes express a mix of alarm, bewilderment, and anger.

Obama, "Shit! Niggas shit! Black as we are!"

V.V.P., "President Obama, what's wrong with you?"

Obama (wipes the face with one of his shirt's sleeves), "Chose me? Hate me! First chose, then not like! Damn niggas! Hiroshima, Niggersaki! Nuke you, bastards!" (waves a fist of the right hand before a television camera).

V.V.P., "E-r-r-m-m... can I help you in any way? It's a custom tradition to bring a glass of water in such cases."

Obama (looking around in fear), "Water? No water! Water turns black as oil! Mississippi, Lousiana! Niggas trick!"

V.V.P., "Mr. President, are you even in the correct condition to participate in our interview? And are you totally and inevitably sure you do not need any sort of help?"

Obama (continuing to look around in a search of the nonexistent enemy), "Help? No help! We help, not us! All world, we help! Bring democracy, spread it! Like gardening, like my wife!"

V.V.P., "Oh, yeah, the topic of democratization of a free world in the American style is in today's agenda."

Obama (with considerably increased activity, swinging hands, from which the splashes of dark substance continue flowing, having partially soiled the camera of one of the operators), "Yep! Democracy! Holy shit, we did! This way, that way, everyone gets! Refuses – gets a bomb! No nukes, no Hiroshima, we merciful! Agrees, makes a slave. Lots of concubines, lots of fun!"

V.V.P., "Well, it seems to me that now you have very diplomatically and politically correctly mentioned a subject of so-called 'colorful' revolutions, whose rain has recently spilled near the borders of our country..."

Obama (continuing to gesticulate actively), "We help, we buy! Lots of money, Lots of credits! Lots of printing job! Take whole! Democracy matters, a country not matter, money does not matter, no! We good, we help! Bring holy shit!" (Obama's face blurs in a smile), "Wanna shit?"