originally posted in:The New Dojo
Stumbling into the office, an armored and armed man finished off a bottle of some kind of alcohol, dropping it in the trash. Sitting across from Chuck, he pulled a packet of something, "Mind if I eat?" He asked in a thick Russian accent.
English
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"No, comrade. Go right ahead. Want another bottle of vodka to hel0 the food go down? Did your bear car get here okay?"
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"Okay, first, communism is for weak man. Second, whiskey would be better. Third, I walked," he pulled a slice of pizza from the bag, "And not any of that burger-munching redneck-road American whiskey. Real stuff." He took a bite of the pizza, smirking.