Communist Girls
Dear R.,
You're a fucking shit-eating criminal, and I have the right to kill you.
... should I choose to, but I have a morbid curiosity to see where this goes.
I met you at a bar this evening, and one of my friends accused you of being a Russian spy. I can see now that they were correct.
You were offended at the accusation, after I asked you flat out if you were a Commie, but I was able to defuse the delecate situation by telling you that I found Russian women to be incredibly attractive, but not so much as you. You were drunk showing a massive amount of cleavage flattered, and asked me to buy you a shot, which, as a drunk Wisconsin native, I abruptly did. We exchanged business cards, and you instantly scurried off to the Ladies' room after you finished your shot.
And that, my dear lass, was your tell. I could immediately tell by your cunning lack-of-return that you were, indeed, a communist spy, fearing the prosecution of McCarthyism at your return. As well you should, as I am a patriot, and would have killed you with my bare hands, had I realized the awful truth. You had intended to pump me for information as to this nation's national defenses, and - even worse - the secrets that I have learned at my place of work. But when I tipped my hand as to my employer, you instantly knew that I would never defect to the darkness of Red Russia.
Your cunning female wiles were no match for my love of this country (even though I'm no longer a Republican), and you should feel ashamed for even trying. However, I will give you one final chance to let me rub my face between your ample breasts. I have your card, and shall call on you for a slight trim - seeing as how you're posing as a hair-dresser in this country.
You may cut my hair, but you will never cut my freedom!!!