Russia Stole My Girlfriend

Japan’s wristlet purse rattled all the way to the coffee bar.

“Double shot, please,” she told the machine.

It whirred to life and soon a steaming shot of bean water was filling a mug.

She fetched a pill pouch from her purse. It had to be holding at least a dozen different pills in all shapes and sizes–capsules, tablets, slick, some small and round, and others quite enormous and shiny.

She dumped the pills into her hand, popped them into her mouth, tossed back the scalding hot espresso and swallowed it all in one big gulp.

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Cuba’s (Not So) Glorious Communist Romance

Mexico was not North Korea.

In fact, they probably didn’t even look the same naked.

But Cuba wouldn’t know because she’d never seen what was underneath North Korea’s perfectly pressed, gray suits. If she had, she wouldn’t be sitting next to Mexico then, sticky leather seats beneath them and an expanse of constellations above.

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The Problem Child

On America’s birthday, England “fondly” remembers the “best” memories of his “son.”

 

Did we want him back?

That was the question everyone wanted to know in the aftermath of the war. Over time I started to understand that people weren’t asking if we wanted to reclaim a rebellious colony. What people wanted to know was… if we missed him.

To decide whether one misses someone, one has to determine whether there was anything to miss. But, you see, never in his centuries of existence has America ever done anything to make him worth missing. In fact, he’s often made me want to disown him.

I could easily think of five hundred abhorrent things America has done (and then there would be five hundred more repressed memories lying in wait to be unearthed through the therapy I will soon surely need). But to spare us both, I will talk about only five.

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Trump-Kim Summit: The Aftermath

North Korea and China chat about the summit. Meanwhile, America celebrates a win.

North Korea and China chat about the summit. Meanwhile, America celebrates a win.


Opening the door to the office unleashed a herbaceous assault on North Korea’s senses.

“What’s that smell?” he said loudly as soon as he stepped in.

China was half asleep at his desk. He jerked awake, blinked a couple of times, then said, “My oils.”

“Your oils.”

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