Cindy, Bob, and the pilot walked a few blocks until they came to a sparkling palace, a gem of soviet architecture artistically rivaled only by the buildings of the American 1970s.
"Where'dya get all the money for this place?" asked Cindy.
"We don't feed the workers," replied the pilot.
They all laughed heartily.
Suddenly, Neptunian space beetles started descending from the sky. They circled around Bob, Cindy, and the pilot (having been encircled). The rest of the street was empty except for the three figures surrounded by a horde of bristling moustachioed russian-hat-wearing space beetles.
The pilot reloaded his kalishnikov and took 4 grenades out of his jacket. "May Stalin and all his terrors protect me and my family as long as they live," he muttered under his breath.
"This looks like the end, Bobby," said Cindy, shaking.
"Yep," replied Bobby, looking into the distance, "But I've had a good run. If they put me on a stamp, well...I just don't know."
The largest beetle stepped forward. It started to open it mouth. They could hear its proboscis squirming and its tentacles flopping about. It raised its arms and...spoke. "Hello humans. Do not fear us. I am Jugurtha, leader of the Neptunian space beetles, and I come in peace."
"Then how come ya'll done ate the brain right out of Jimbo's head?" retorted Cindy.
"We had to take the brain of a human to learn your language," replied Jugurtha, "unfortunately his English was a corrupt form. We eventually found an Ivy league professor and took his brain."
"Thank god," said Bob.
"We've been trying to communicate with you, but you humans have continued to shoot us. But now we can finally tell you our story. We were happy space beetles, living in peace on neptune, learning everything we needed to know from the broadcasts of Stalin. But somehow, another race came into being, a race of horrible space bumblebees. How and why they were created we do not know. They have been killing off our race, so we decided to come to mother Russia for help. Will you help us?"
"Of Course!" shouted the pilot, "I know a true Soviet when I see one. We must have some stolichnaya, but first...to the premier!"
(OP: Nate, November 15 2006)
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