Varvara is 16 years old. She is from the village of Razmetelevo, in the Leningrad region. Her parents are farmers. A small house of 300 square meters, its own swimming pool in the courtyard with sturgeon and carp. Well, the rest – all the same small and unnecessary.
Varvara has been in tears since morning. Her usurping parents did not give her 1,000 rubles for travel, for Varvara to go to St. Petersburg – to fight against the bloody regime and join the ranks of brave and honest fighters.
Her father is upset, his words for Varvara bounce off her like peas. She knows that he is a boring slave who kisses Putin’s ass and sees nothing but his chicken coop.
He asks me to talk to her – Varvara loves me. I have a lot of silver rings with skulls and a long rocker ponytail. I didn’t taint myself with pitchforks and manure, and I wasn’t caught in a weed patch. One can listen to me.
I immediately assured Varvara that I was on her side – completely. And I love Navalny like my own mother – because he is a sufferer. It is necessary that the insidious FSB put poison in precisely his underpants. They trespassed on the sacred.
I immediately offered Varvara 1,000 for travel and my support in PR. It is necessary that she does not get lost in the crowd and shows her true face – then she will be effective. It would be nice to put blood-stained men’s underpants on a pitchfork – then there will be a good symbol. The children of farmers are against the bloody tyranny. Varvara will definitely be noticed and taken to the headquarters. And maybe even put in jail. For a while.
She looked at me sternly:
“We must go up against Putin. Because you are incapable. You are his slaves.”
I warmly supported her.
“Yes, because what kind of President is this? Laughter and shame. He doesn’t even have a nose ring. No, at least dye himself green. And shame – there is no husband around, like all the other proud Europeans. Or his wife. At least Shoigu. In stilettos. It’s just inconvenient for the country. He could at least drink, as Yeltsin conducted the orchestra. If only there was some fun.. He works, you see.. He builds bridges and roads.”
Varvara said proudly:
“But they don’t steal. But this one has plundered the whole country. Brazen. With his minions.”
“That’s right,” I agreed bitterly, “Crimea was dragged away. Otherwise our Ukrainian brothers would build an American base there. And a lot of Americans would have come – to sunbathe in Crimea. Well, maybe sometimes in a state of anger it would be mistakenly shot. And Razmetelevo. Your father was robbed – he was just then living in a communal apartment – in Kupchino. And tried to cadge 10 rubles from me too. And now he sells sturgeon.”
“I’m not talking about us. I’m talking about the country.”
“Yes, Varya, and I’m talking about the country. He stole it completely. Crimean bridges, airports, roads, malls – everything is stolen.”
You’re right, though. We can’t go on living like this. With iPhones and computers, as well as with resorts and all sorts of cool things.
It’s time to move on to the overthrow. Navalny needs help – otherwise his daughter is studying in America. We need money. He’s in a hurry – to steal a little more.
Will you take the 1,000? You have to sacrifice yourself so that your comrades-in-arms can also study in America and eat delicious hamburgers – they are much tastier there. When you get trampled on, I’ll write about you on TikTok.”
In general, greater for Varvara – I’m not an authority. I’m also a boring grandfather. But she didn’t take the money.
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