To Kill the Duke by Sam Moffie, Vicki Contavespi

said before Oscar, who am I to say no to John Wayne?”

Chapter Three
U NCLE J OE ’ S L AST F ILM F ETIVAL

    “One death is a tragedy; one million a statistic.”

— Joseph Stalin
    “I have known much good done by those who affected to trade for the public good.”

— Adam Smith
    “Saddle Up!”

— John Wayne as Sgt. Stryker in “Sands of Iwo Jima”
    I van tensed his muscles to fight off the cold as he made his way to his job. It made him look like a robot when he walked, but he had learned at an early age it helped him stay warm.
    Ivan hoped that Alex was right about the big shots getting so drunk they would leave lots of goodies behind. Ivan was hoping for a warm overcoat, because he didn’t want to catch a cold like Alex had. He hoped that the vodka-laced tea would kill any of the germs floating around in Moscow waiting to attack his body.
    He made his way to where he would be working and stopped at the guard house in front of the iron gate. Other than the bitter cold, he felt good. Taking the nap had indeed been a great suggestion. He nodded thanks to his friend Alex for coming up with that idea.
    He showed his identification card to the giant guard who had more weapons in his belt than Ivan knew existed. The guard said nothing and pointed to a small shack on the other side of the gate.
    “That’s the projection room?” Ivan asked the guard.
    The guard rolled his eyes and shook his head no.
    Ivan walked slowly over to the shack wondering what fate awaited him.
At least the cold isn’t bothering me
, he thought to himself.
    There was nothing sinister awaiting Ivan Visnapu but a good old-fashioned strip search, delousing by warm water and best of all… he was told he was to receive a new uniform, followed by a hot meal. Ivan was told that this was Standard Operating Procedure (or S.O.P.) for anyone entering such an important residence.
    How come Alex didn’t warn me?
he thought.
    Well… the strip search and delousing was S.O.P. He hoped he was getting a uniform like the one he had seen a long time ago as a boy in Stalingrad. The soldiers who performed the search and shower laughed at how skinny Ivan was. They also threatened to cut his thick black hair if they found any trace of lice. Ivan didn’t care… he was warm and the soap actually had fragrance! He was told that he only got a hot meal and a private’s uniform because he was going to be running the projector for the premier’s favorite pastime. Ivan was told he had to look the part. They also took his wrist watch. Ivan didn’t bother to ask for it back. After all, it wasn’t his and he was pretty sure it didn’t keep the correct time, despite what Alex told him. Ivan didn’t trust anything bought on the black market.
    “I don’t get a fancier uniform?’ he asked no one in particular, as he listened to the guards tell him how lucky he was to be eating such a luscious meal.
    “You know comrade, there really is another reason we are stuffing your face before you go into the residence and set up the projector,” another soldier said to him.
    “Who are you?” Ivan asked the man.
    “The captain of the guards!” the captain shouted to Ivan.
    Ivan was very disappointed that the captain of the guards didn’t have a uniform like that of the Commissar so many years ago. Ivan shrugged his shoulders… remembering that Alex told him to listen a lot more and talk very little.
    “Because the big shots don’t want you eating any of
their
incredible cuisine,” the captain bellowed as the rest of the guard contingent laughed.
    Toughski shitski
Ivan thought as he chuckled along with them. After all, they were extremely large men who carried very scary-looking weapons.
    When the captain told Ivan that he was done (although Ivan knew he could eat a lot more), Ivan was escorted to the projector room so that he could get everything ready for the viewing.
    Ivan loved the projector room! For here, he was the captain… no, he was the head of the