I became Stalin chapter 116
“… Let’s proceed.”
“Yes! Comrade Secretary General!”
In a small dacha near Moscow, there were a lot of people who could be called the highest ranks of Soviet politics and the military. When I gave the order, the attendants in unison pretended to be, saluted, and scrambled to their respective positions.
The people present held their breaths and laughed or cheered, respectively. They too have been waiting for a long time.
“after… Honestly, can’t you help it?”
“That’s right. how a person… .”
nod nod. Everyone clashed with my words.
Of course, inside I felt a sense of guilt.
“Wait for a moment.”
After a while, a savory, fragrant and salty smell filled the room. The attendants opened the door and walked in with modest steps, putting down heavy trays one by one.
“Well… Five… Ah… Yes… .”
In order for this old body to live a better life, it needed strict diet control, weight loss, exercise and health management.
But humans sometimes need pleasure.
The joy of chicken.
Pick up hot, freshly fried chicken legs and cut them. The succulent, oily and salty taste melts in your mouth! exploded in
Politicians too, each with hesitation, stretched out their hands towards the chicken. People who are old enough to fight over a specific part, or eat while dirtying their hands with gravy. I was showing various ugliness, but God will forgive me. cancer.
“How is the development of ‘it’ going?”
“Yes? Which say… Ah!”
At my sudden question, Beria was taken aback for a moment, and then burst into tears as if she knew it. But he glanced around for a moment.
“Comrade General Secretary, wouldn’t it be better if there were fewer people to talk about ‘it’?”
“Hmm… It’s a secret… .”
After devouring one chicken leg like a crab, she picked up another chicken leg and received Kalinin’s grim glance, and Beria whispered to me.
“No, not that! Do you have ‘it’? Chef?”
“Ah… Ah… As for the seasoning sauce, it will be ready soon.”
“Very good. This fried chicken is good too, but wouldn’t it be delicious if it was tossed with seasoning sauce? What do you guys think?”
Everyone nodded to the point that they couldn’t be more sincere. Of course, thanks to the chicken that filled my mouth, I couldn’t answer properly.
“Kalinin, you are at the forefront of the spread of this new cuisine. This project will be a good way for us to inform the people of the Soviet Union and the world about the excellence of Soviet culture. No matter how anti-communist, once you taste it… .”
“Wow… Whether or not! Comrade Secretary General.”
The business, headed by Kalinin, is called Kalinin Fried Chicken. Under this brand name, we plan to start a franchise business in the United States.
Kalinin nodded vigorously as she ate the chicken, especially the chicken made according to the recipe of KFC’s Hot Crispy Chicken.
Colonel Harland Sanders may still be running a small shop in rural Kentucky. The first KFC franchises did not exist until the 1950s, let alone known.
Aiming for that gap, we will squeeze in.
1990, just before the dissolution of the Soviet Union. The first McDonald’s in the USSR opened in Moscow. More than 30,000 people gathered to taste capitalism.
“Eating stimulates the most basic human instinct. Take with their tongues this great Soviet culture and they will recognize us!”
it’s actually bullshit but what It is enough if we can earn dollars by preempting a company that can become a global franchise.
“Oh, and who said they prepared entertainment today?”
“You are the enemy, Comrade General!”
“Very good! Wealth?祗?Enemies? Would you like to ‘do that’?”
A wealthy man who ate chicken while dirtying his rich mustache with oil, gravy and fried crumbs, his mustache trembled when his name was called.
“‘that’… mean? Comrade secretary? Heh heh heh… .”
“after! ha! after! Ha!”
“Thousands of cavalry galloping like a gale! The leader that everyone blindly follows, Genghis Khan!”
Russia’s beautiful ‘breezy customs’ included drinking, dancing, and playing dog shit together.
But if you drink alcohol, you won’t be able to work tomorrow, so I ordered people who had to work to stop drinking.
Of course, the stress must be relieved in some way, so playing with shit is allowed.
The problem is that you can only do it after drinking, but it was more difficult than I thought to do it with a bare mind.
Well, there were people like Boo who danced and jumped like that.
“Jing, gong, Genghis Khan! Run, cavalry! Run, cavalry! Ging, gong, Genghis Khan!”
Wearing a Mongolian fur hat, and wearing a fur cloak, he sang and danced, bouncing round and round.
The song selection is , a song by the famous singer group . It was a song that could be called a symbol of 7080 disco music.
The generals who brought him directly with him were also dancing together.
“You’re dancing better than I thought. Ha ha ha ha ha!”
“Ha ha ha ha ha! Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The whole hall became a sea of laughter. One of the cavalry lieutenants who drank a cup of vodka and danced, imitated the sound of the horse hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee.
“Wah ha ha ha! Very well done! Very well done!”
Anyway, the frantic night went so deep. I’ll have to go back to work tomorrow, but… .
One of Stalin’s original habits was to make his men drink like crazy, ask difficult questions or dance.
But there was something called Stockholm Syndrome. Just as a hostage feels attached to a hostage criminal, once he gets used to harsh things, he becomes good at it.
While I wasn’t drinking, they took a few glasses of vodka and started dancing to the ‘disco music’ one by one.
“Hey, Molotov is pretty good at dancing, isn’t it?”
Among the dogs, Molotov was quite good at dancing. The claim that he seduced his wife with his dancing skills didn’t seem like a lie at all while shaking his hips and shaking his shoulders to the beat.
Khrushchev, on the other hand, looked really good.
“Hey! What kind of dance does that bald man do like that!”
“Hehehehe, Comrade Secretary General!”
Khrushchev, who had drunk a lot of vodka, turned red to the end of his head and turned like a boiled octopus, sang and danced a strange song out of tune.
But all the drunken people just giggled together.
I also got drunk after sipping one or two cups at a time and somehow laughed. You have to drink alcohol to eat fatty chicken, right? It must have been quite a while since I drank it as an excuse.
“… Dad, I’m going in now.”
“Uh? Ah… Svetlana.”
While playing and having fun, I turned around, startled by the sudden call to me.
‘my’ daughter. Svetlana looked at me with a tired look. When I came to Dacha to have dinner, I knew that they brought it for the security guard’s convenience, but… .
For a 15-year-old little girl, this place would not have been fun. What would be more enjoyable for a sensitive girl when high-ranking old people are drinking and chatting with each other?
Wearing a modest dress, she creaked as she wiggled the notebook she was holding with both hands. I’d rather have brothers and a mother.
But everyone left. Leaving behind only a young girl and a blunt “steel man” father.
Whether it’s a college student in his 20s who had no girlfriends, let alone children, or a senior politician in his 60s who took over the world’s largest country. I didn’t know how to properly handle this situation.
“That… be like that.”
nodded. Svetlana nodded and walked away without a word. Holding his notebook tightly to his chest.
What is that note? I was curious, but couldn’t be bothered to call him and ask him to give me the note. Just staring at the back of the lonely child’s head.
Beria, who was leaning against the wall and observing people with curious eyes, walked up to me and whispered to me, unsuitable for her weight.
“Do you have any problems, Comrade Secretary-General? Miss Svetlana seems to be struggling mentally… .”
“Is that what you see?”
Beria nodded her head cautiously. He was well aware of the “rumors” that his enemies had circulated about him.
The rumor that he likes children was still alive despite the NKVD’s all-out attempts to make a comeback. As a father of a daughter, who wouldn’t be wary of him?
“Well… Maybe it’s because I don’t have friends my age. The Kremlin is not a good place for girls.”
“If necessary, we will recruit children who can become friends of our age. Wouldn’t it be helpful to have one or two around?”
In an extremely cautious and thoughtful voice, he spoke with concern for me and Svetlana.
The reason Beria gained Stalin’s trust in real history was similar. As head of the Georgian branch of the Soviet Communist Party, he took care of Stalin’s old mother, Keke (Ekaterin Geladize, nicknamed Keke).
After working hard to take care of his mother, who was Stalin’s “weak point,” he was caught in the eyes of Moscow and eventually became the leader of the Soviet intelligence service, using the purge as an opportunity.
“… Is there anyone who could be a candidate?”
“I will look for it and report it. Comrade Secretary General.”
As I nodded, he grinned and returned from a thoughtful demeanor to a pleasant, docile subordinate.
“Anyway, Comrade Secretary General. That dance song that comrade said is very popular! Wasn’t the dance of the foe’s enemies really interesting too?”
“Ha ha ha, yes. It was funny.”
“Yes, yes. In particular, it can be said that it is very witty to use the usual image of a wealthy enemy and make him look like a Mongolian khan.”
The tongue spun around as if it had been greased with oil. Between a crafty servant and a subordinate who was loyal like a hound, Beria played an exquisite tightrope.
“So, how about using something like that for propaganda?”
“propaganda? You mean propaganda?”
“Yes. As the Germans are extremely afraid of our cavalry, using the image of the cavalry… .”
After that, Beria continued to say something, but she got more and more drunk and couldn’t understand it. But as long as you’re competent, you’ll be fine.
Even if no one knew about it, there was nothing to compare it to in terms of competence.
“You know how to do it. I’ll have to go in soon.”
I became Stalin chapter 116