NOT A GOOD LOOK

 

 

I am unmoved. My people, they watch me. The camera see everthing They see pain on my face. But I do not move. My feets is stuck to floorse. Like they was nailed to the woodse. My dresser, he puts cream on my face for the lights so my skin does not shine when I sweats. I pick up the microphone and my staff tell me where stand. They say “use lotion” to kill bad germs. I do what they say and now my hand it sticks to my face and my feets are glued to the florse. They are mostly good people, my gang, but sometimes they goes too far with the joksing. Super glues trick is not funny. No way. Maybe I have them killed later. I don’t knows. 

This people, reporters from around the world , they have come to see me and I cannot speak because my hand is stuck to my face. Wait! Maybe I can do like Trump and pretend to be shot. Yes! This might work. I will yell and point somewhere, and my guards will rush me off stage. Okay, Vova, you can do this! Go! Now! “Assassin! Assassin! Help!”