Niki, I’m called to the Olympics in Sochi. I am going to be a guard on the luge. They expect protestors because of the new laws about the gays.
<Sergei, be careful. The gays can be ruthless.>
Niki, I am at Rzhanaya Plyana, Sliding Center Sanki. The gays are in the hotel. They are very angry. Do you know what they are angry about?
<They cannot distribute their propaganda legally anymore. That is all. Are they having sex in front of you, Sergei? If so, close your eyes and remember me. Only me, Sergei.>
They are not having sex. But I saw a man and a man kiss. It is a strange thing. The gays kiss for a very long time.
<Sergei, turn away. Get out of there. Tell me when you reach the mountain.>
Niki. I am in the snow. There are gays here. They have signs. ‘Queers say nyet!’ and ‘Jesus had two fathers and he turned out okay’. What does it mean? The vendors are not serving the gays, not even coffee.
<Do not feel sad for the gays. They are fags. They are the niggers of Russia. The government already said, no to their marriage. No to their literature. No to their adoptions. No to everything. >
These fags kiss a lot, Niki. And they wear strange clothes. I am on duty now. The events have started. The protestors are chanting.
<Sergei, I have not heard from you in a while. What is happening?>
Niki, the gays are singing songs and there is much kissing. The girls are kissing with the girls now. It makes me feel strange. The men are kissing with the men again. This makes me feel stranger. But now the gays are pushing towards us, chanting. They want to get closer to the luge run. But we will not let them. We will not.
<Make me proud, Sergei. Use your stick. Beat the gays. Smash them if you must.>
Niki, a gay handed me a pamphlet. It explains about these people and how they want to marry. There is a mountain on the cover, and a cloud around the top. There are gays on the mountain, Niki. This gay girl talked to me in Russian. She is one of us. These are not foreigners, Niki.
<I see it on television. They are saying that they are going to give you the order to push the gays back soon. Be ready, Sergei. Do your duty. But be careful.>
Niki. Niki. We beat some of them. Blood is melting snow. A man kissed my face shield, so I pushed him. They are giving out more flyers now, and we are telling them that they have to stop, that it is against the law. Two girls are naked and huddled in the snow, in the middle of it. A man with a microphone is shouting. And they are kissing. We beat them. They kiss. We beat them more. They kiss. Niki, I am taking off my helmet. I am putting down my shield.
<Sergei, don’t do that. The fags will get you! And you will be fired!>
I am unzipping my coat.
<What are you doing!>
Taking my shirt off. My boats. My pants. Underwear, socks.
Other guards are looking at me. The gays are looking at me. There are some television cameras, Niki. Do you see me?
<God, Sergei. I see you. What are you going to do?>
What comes next, Niki. Whatever comes next. The gays are kissing, Niki. They kiss and they kiss and they kiss. As we have kissed. Remember, Niki?
<Why are you going to the luge track, Sergei?>
I am at the top. The ice is cold on my skin. The gays are screaming at me now. The guards are screaming, too. Niki, I dream of speed. It is very cold, and I am moving. The ice is smooth. Faster and faster I am going down. There is no way off the track, Niki, but what of it? I am moving. There is speed now. It is on my whole body, the ice beneath, the air on top. On the curves I am flung about. On the stretches, I dream a way out of these untold aches made of shit. This burning thing, this havoc, I would take the ice instead. I would take the speed.
<Oh Sergei… you asshole. You destroyed everything!>
We should destroy it, Niki.
<You are at the bottom. I see you.>
Skin is cold. Television cameras are watching me. People are cheering. Someone is putting a blanket around me, and shoes on my feet. They are giving me a coffee. And they are asking me what I sought to do, and why I would do it. And they are thinking: he cannot be real. He cannot be serious. But they ask a question which is incorrect. I am real. And I am naked before all the world.
<Don’t come back here. Ever.>
I won’t. Not ever.
<You fag, Sergei.>
I send my kisses. So many of them, in a box of snow. Goodbye, Niki.
Hey Russian government! Kiss. My. Ass. It’s 2014. Think about it.
Thanks to Art from PMAO (http://pouringmyartout.wordpress.com/) for the following completely true photos of Mr. Vladimir Putin.