VLADIMIR PUTIN DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION MASTER
Vladimir Putin was a troubled child growing up. He had a passion for dance. He would wear his sweatband and break into trendy moves. Everyone who saw him would exclaim 'Look at those moves!' Everyone did but his father that is. His father would grimace at lil' Vlad whenever he danced. He detested his son's "funky" moves.
Vlad's father, Joseph Stalin, didn't hate his son; he just had a rough history with dance. When Joseph was a younger fellow, he often employed some fresh choreography, too. He danced like no one was watching from sunrise to sunset. But that all changed when the communists took over.
It was a Tuesday. Joseph was practicing the Karl Marx Shake in the middle of St. Petersburg square. Crowds had gathered around him, cheering his name. Some even threw Rubles at him. It seemed like they went there for him instead of the Alexander Column, a monument featuring an angel holding a crucifix standing on a slender granite column. He felt elated. He danced for hours, and the Russians made a festivity out of the event. They sang popular Russian poems and feasted on lamb and pork. A few of them danced with Joseph as their friends jokingly pointed and laughed at them.
Then the Commi's drove in on their cherry-red, hoodless mustangs. The communists were a truly despicable type of people. They wore black leather jackets with the collars popped. They dressed in sleek leather pants, leather socks, leather shoes, and fashionable, leather, fingerless gloves. Their hair was slicked back with either car grease or fish oil, and they all wore cool smirks where their chins jutted out and a tooth pick sat on the side of their mouths. They didn't smoke cigarettes because they were just too cool for that and also highly educated about their health by their loving parents.
One of the Commi's stepped out of his car and took off his sunglasses. He started walking towards Joseph and gestured towards him, "Hey, you."
The other Commi's stepped out of their cars and followed the first one. The crowd around Joseph parted to make way for them.
"This is our square." The first Commi continued.
"Yeah, you go tell him, Mark." said another one of the commi's.
"Shut up, Phillip!" yelled Mark, "Anyway, we got a bone to pick with you lil'Joseph. You better stop dancin' around here or me and the boys will make you."
Some of the commi's laughed and cracked their knuckles in agreement.
Joseph stepped up, "Hey, I don't know who you are or how strong you guys are, but my passion for dance is too deep in my bones to stop for the likes of you. So I challenge you to a dance-off. Winner gets to stay. Losers have to leave and never come back."
Mark tilted his head to the side and gaped at him. Then the communists beat Joseph up and broke his legs. They got back in their cars, drove a few circles around St. Petersburg square and left.
"My legs!" shouted Joseph, "I'll never be able to dance again!"
Later after Joseph's legs healed, he still wasn't able to dance. His legs just weren't the same. Because of this, Joseph started to hate the world.
He exclaimed, "The world is cruel! So I will be crueler."
Joseph became determined. He joined the communists and eliminated members at the top until he was elected their leader. He then pronounced himself the totalitarian, cool-kid dictator, and slaughtered millions. He wasn't entirely sure why he had to slaughter millions, but he did because that's just what bitter people do when the world takes someone's dance moves away from them. He was sure of this because he had read about it in a fortune cookie.
Eventually he was removed from power. He guessed that after slaughtering millions, someone finally had enough common sense to make him stop. But with no evil, dictatorial regime to rule, Joseph didn't have anything to do. So he did what most people did and decided to raise a family. And so he gave birth to lil' Vlad.
"Dad, why do you gotta hate on my fresh moves?" Vlad asked as he did a Trotsky spin.
"Son, you will learn that this world is cruel and doesn't let people do what they want to do, so you have to beat the spaghetti out of the world as revenge." Replied Joseph, hardened with age.
"Dad, that makes no sense whatsoever. Because even if it costs me my life, I will dance until I cannot dance anymore because I love to dance, and it makes me and everyone else happy," said Vlad.
"Yeah, well, what if killing people makes me happy? Should still do it because I want to be happy?" asked Joseph.
"You don't like killing people," said Vlad.
"How do you know? You don't know me. I could be some kind of sicko," remarked Joseph
"Yeah, but that hurts other people and makes more unhappiness," said Vlad.
Joseph stared into his son's eyes. Joseph's face contorted and tried to hold back the tears. But then he said, "No son, you can't dance anymore."
He then broke lil' Vlad's legs. Vladimir Putin later grew up to become an evil dictator, and he made everyone's lives terrible. The End.