[SOLZHENITSOF]

ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

FINALE-BOOK, SAY TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FORM OF PURE ART

(Tags: Soviet influence, Iran, North Korea, Turkey, Syria, Morsi’s Egypt, Cuba)

Lenin-the leader of the Soviet Gang Empire drawing vague curves in the air directed the chattering independently based on sullen faces or rather out of humanly seriousness. ‘Only my comrades,’ said he ‘I don’t know where to leave them to be ready forever to have taken part in dialogues for my sake; it’s too cold outside, and they’ll be in Kremlin.’
-‘They won’t bother me,’ said the dwarf English Aphrodite, say Evelyn namely the lover of all lovers in kindly tones, ‘let them come in. Anyway, I know them. We’re old acquaintances.’
‘Well, they bother me,’ said Lenin frankly, letting his gaze wander from the comrades present around to tease the lovers of Lenin and back to the comrades, and finding it impossible to tell their myriad smiles apart.
‘However, since you’re here,’ Soviet dictator suggested tentatively, ‘you can stay and help the lady Evelyn look for a file with the word La Fontaine-for all communist comrades should share the same genes creating rapacious instincts- the same on it underlined in red.’ Evelyn-the lover of the Soviet leader did not object to that; while nobody was allowed to search the papers the comrades were, and they flung themselves on the files immediately, and began to sing,

IF A FOUNTAIN UTTERS...

What came: "the spring you know from La Fontaine; don't drink water, don't make a wish – idiot your language-union targeting point...
Eventually a fountain does not take any stance while singing her unlimited octave hymn flows away, despite the brakes after coming to the end;
Let’s suppose, always with zero probability, from snow, merciful ice if you fall for his cold sips instigating fans,
Springs seduce; makes your tiny need insatiable, long for satisfaction despite the genes!

And yet just churning up the heaps to have consisted of pages some great volumes rather than searching properly, and while one of them was spelling out the very word La Fontaine on a piece of paper the other kept snatching it from the other’s hand. As for the platonic lover Evelyn, she was kneeling in front of the empty cupboard and no longer seemed to be searching at all, or at least the light source was a long way away from her. ‘So, your comrades bother you, do they?’ addressed the dwarf English Aphrodite, with a satisfied smile, as if it was all due to her own arrangements, but no one was in a position even to suspect as much.

TO BE CONTINUED...