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Deciding to save the day, I ask, “Can you tell me some Vovochka jokes?”
The parents exchange an approving glance. It must look like I’m more versed in the Russian culture than I actually am.
“I’ll start.” Boris puts down his shish kebab. “In biology class, the teacher draws a cucumber on the blackboard and asks, ‘Can someone tell me what this is?’ Vovochka raises his hand. ‘It’s a cock.’ The teacher storms off. The principal rushes into the classroom. ‘Who upset the teacher, and more importantly, who the hell drew that cock on the blackboard?’”
Chuckles all around.
“I know one too,” Natasha says. “The teacher says, ‘Vovochka, I hope I don’t catch you cheating off your neighbor on the next test. ‘I hope so too,’ Vovochka replies.”
More chuckles.
“My turn,” Bella says. “Vovochka says to his Mom, ‘Where do babies comes from?’ Without hesitation, she says, ‘The stork brings them.’ ‘I know it’s the stork,’ Vovochka replies. ‘But who fucks the stork?’”
Even though his joke was also dirty, Boris gives Bella a disapproving glare.
“Can I go?” Alex asks, and before anyone replies, he says, “Vovochka puts on rubber boots. ‘Vovochka, there’s no dirt outside,’ his mom says. ‘Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll find it,’ Vovochka replies.’”
Again chuckles.
“That one sounds just like Vlad when he was little,” Natasha says to me conspiratorially.
“That’s true,” Bella says with a grin.
Vlad elbows his brother. “This one wasn’t much better.”
“We should have another drink before the show starts,” Boris says and pours everyone another round.
The show? Is that what the stage is for?
Everyone downs their vodka. Upon seeing how easily Bella does it, I knock back a full shot glass.
It must be the function of the buzz I have going already, but the vodka doesn’t burn as badly going down as it did before.
The lights dim.
What I presume to be Russian music begins to play, though to me it sounds a lot like K-Pop.
A bunch of scantily clad girls run out onto the stage. They’re wearing masks from that pre-orgy scene in Eyes Wide Shut, but their dancing reminds me more of The Rockettes.
After they raise their legs for the umpteenth time, the masked dancers depart, and the music changes to that of Swan Lake.
A ballerina steps onto the stage.
At least, she’s a ballerina on the bottom. On the top, she’s wearing horrible makeup that makes her look like a witch—with wrinkles on her forehead so large they’re sprouting their own wrinkles.
Must be a Baba Yaga impersonation. Didn’t know the old witch was a dancer.
The one on stage sure is. She performs some truly acrobatic ballet moves—that is, until the pudgy singer from earlier rushes onto the stage, dressed like a child.
Yep.
That’s Baba Yaga, for sure. Why else would she pantomime eating the dude?
When she’s done pretending to eat him, the bearded child grabs the mic, and the music changes again.
“My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,” he sings with a thick Russian accent.
The Rockettes ladies rush back, also wearing Baba Yaga makeup. Each of them holds a toy that reminds me of the killer Chucky doll—and these dolls are missing random limbs.
