Virginaki -- Christman Pacman
I'm not a donk, I've been around for awhile
So, sometime, in the mid- to late-1980s, a dutiful Soviet husband is sent out by his wife to stand all day in the breadline so he can provide for his family. He gets there early but already the line stretches down two Russian blocks. The line moves slowly, person by person. For four hours he stands waiting in line. Finally, our hero reaches the front of the line, only to have the bakers perfunctorily slam down the metal shielding of their kiosk, upon which is painted the explanation that the bread is all gone for the day.
Our hero, having had a rough day of it, not to mention a rough enough life under the regime, can not help himself but to begin to spout off.
"This is it!" he declares. "I don't care of the consequences! I can no longer live under this corrupt Communist regime which can no longer feed its own people. Fellow Russians, we must rise up, and end our enslavement..." and so on.
Soon enough, a trio of suited undercovers appear. Together they pull him by his shirt collar out from the head of the now dismayed and dispersing line, and into a nearby alley.
"Comrade," begins their obvious leader, "You must please watch what you say. You are putting us, the police, in a very awkward position with all your loose talk!"
Our hero, having accepted his fate, stays mute.
The officer sighs and finally continues. "But, as you know, the Politburo has now implemented this new policy of perestroika (restructuring), so in this spirit we are only going to send you home with a warning."
The still somewhat shaken man is met at the apartment door by his wife. "What is wrong?" she asks. "Why do you look so distraught?"
"My love," he replies, "I had not realized until today how bad things had gotten for our country's leaders. Not only have they run out of bread, but now they have run out of bullets!"