"You American tourist, yes?"
"Yes..." I cautiously ventured.
"I am Dmitri, famous tour guide, here to show you the sights of Moscow! First off, the great father of communism who has waited 80 years to see you!" his enthusiasm was infectious and I decided I had no choice but to go with Dmitri.
The tomb was a gray mausoleum set in the middle of Red Square. We descended the concrete steps into the main room where the air was heavy with nostalgia and hushed reverence.
As I was walking over to an exhibit of Lenin's life when a loud crashing sound split the air. I whirled around, frightened. The woman who I had been standing behind, waiting to see a photograph of Lenin's childhood village was grabbed by Lenin himself. He bit into her head. With gray matter splattered on his immaculate tuxedo, Lenin looked a lot less at peace than he had five minutes before. I jumped backwards, slipping on the shards of glass that littered the floor.
"Follow me!" Dmitri yelled as he ran down a hallway. I turned and ran, my heels clicking on the marble floor. I turned a corner and ended up nearly running into a metal door. Dmitri was standing against it with the look of someone who has had a years worth of adrenaline put into their system in the span of two minutes.
"Did you hear that?" I asked as a scream wafted down the hallway.
"No, all I heard was a scream," he replied.
"What was that thing anyway?" I said.
"Well a lot of changes have happened to this country in the past few years and apparently our glorious leader has decided not to take it lying down. People say Lenin would roll over in his grave, but this time it seems he has decided to get out of it!"
"How are we going to get out here though?..." long seconds passed.
"What's in your pockets?" he asked.
"Just some chapstick I replied," I replied.
"Good, good, now hand it over," he said.
"No, I'm not going to give it to you! My lips will get all dry!"
"Forget about your lips for a moment! our lives are at stake here!" he whispered angrily. I handed over the chapstick. "Now get ready to run." he said softly. Dmitri threw the chapstick down the hall.
I could hear Lenin moan as he stumbled away after it. We ran down the hallway and out of the mausoleum as fast as we could. I had survived and kept my brains as well.
I think that sometimes people love their country and it's system of government a lot. Perhaps you love it so much that you are not just willing to die for it, but are willing to come back from the dead and eat brains as for it.
I came out of that experience a stronger and better person. I had learned a valuable lesson. I had learned to always carry a tube of chapstick.
I got this picture here
