A Great Country

“Carry to America everything you can,” I read in the newspaper Hard Sign. So what I could carry, I did. I carried my dick to America. And in America, they act surprised: well, dick all! How did you manage to get it here?--they admire it, they weep from joy.

And what’s really so special here? I covered it and slung it over my shoulder. True, I had to give a bribe to customs--they thought I was carrying a kielbasa. The Americans say: “Here we have all kinds of dicks: white, red, black, yellow, but your kind--we don’t have!”

“Well, where would you get a dick such as mine?” I say. I have a Siberian dick, a natural one. Of course, for intimate use, I have a simple dicklette, single-channelled, but this one here I keep for aesthetics, I’ve been raising him for 33 years already. You see, a need became felt--I decided to sell the babymaker. I grew and grew him, at night didn’t fill him up, didn’t feed him enough, babied him, and now I see--I can’t support him, and I took him to be kept someplace. I brought him to the Tretyakov Gallery, and they go: “We have,” they say, “nowhere to keep our own exhibits.” I brought him to the Pushkin Museum: “All our storerooms are flooded. So, if he’s alive, you should take him to the zoo, and put him in the rare animals section.”

“Well, to hell with you!” I think. “Maybe you’ll even direct me to the Society of Nature Testers or to Durov’s corner?”

Anyway, I brought him to America and that was no mistake. Here they really support those of us with Dicks. People were right--it’s a great country.