delivered the blow to himself, all right.
The police laughed at his fantastic tale
of misguided love in the tempting night.
For fun he was bound and taken down to the
harbour on the other side of the manor,
and there he was set adrift in a small dinghy
donated by a frightened fisherman.
Guns were drawn and so were corks and
potchops taken at his floaty corpse.
Luckily for
Vlad their aim was high,
and they soon tired when their bullets ran dry.
All through the night he floated on
and fell asleep until dawn arrived
and he found himself aground on a beach with fish around,
the waters weren't deep.
He stumbled up on the shore and
fell at the doors of a bar called
Matador.
Vladimir, confused and tired,
hungry with aching head.
The bar owner
Miguel showed his kindness and fed a
clone to the wretch,
whose first inquiry was to stop the
English.
Where am
I?
Senor, you are in
Mexico.
Relieved and feeling better,
Vladimir soon realized the
extent of his good fortune.
He decided to change
his identity in this
Mexican paradise.
In return for his lodging,
food and beer, the simple word
Miguel gave him began to change
Vladimir.
He basked in the sun and learned to fish,
and even learned how to cook a pretty mean tortilla dish.
He discovered more and more about
his whereabouts.
It was the least ideal resort visited
by yaks and krauts on the
Yucatan
Peninsula of
Mexico
This was an area famed for its
Mayan ruins, fabulous fishing,
and tropical weather
One glance at a dusty map hanging
there in the bar at the
Matador showed
Vladimir just how close he was to
Birmingham,
Florida
A place he had always heard hushed
stories about back in the
USSR
a place he became in creasingly curious about, a place which he determined would be his next destination.
Thank you for
watching!