Soon the city was covered with posters and Dima’s van was making its way through the villages advertising the new film. Angelica became the new fashion in town. Purple pants, skirts, and stockings dyed at home with beet juice appeared everywhere.
Since the color could not be chemically fixed, in rainy weather, bloody drops stained the sidewalks. But the lusty red leg painted on the poster was not the reason Silvia was fired. Unbeknownst to her, the yellow paint she had used to cover the breasts was road paint. Visible from afar, two perfectly painted breasts, covered by a phosphorescent bra, glowed in the night, to the delight of the citizens.
Comrade Nico called for an emergency meeting.
“Comrade Silvia, after love for the Party and for our leaders, is there anything more important than a mother’s breast?” Comrade Nico asked. “Anything?” he repeated, moving his hands in the air over two enormous imaginary breasts. Then, without waiting for an answer, he continued: “Are women in the factories or on the farms harnessed like that, with a bra? Why are you oppressing the masses, Comrade Silvia?”
“Comrade Nico,” Silvia answered, “the bra is supposed to elevate the masses and keep them under control.”
“So, have you ever seen a bra in our stores?”
“No,” Silvia answered, “but we are not French.”
“Your values are reactionary, Comrade Silvia. Our honest working-class women were once seduced with brassieres, silk stockings, jewelry, lipstick, high heels, and champagne. But our enemies were crushed. You celebrate the bra after the Bolshevik Revolution has eradicated all bourgeois values from our society! You offend our working class. You are indoctrinating our youth. You bring corruption to our nation. You are not an artist anymore. You are being transferred to the park. There you can learn the real values of the working class. Death to the bourgeoisie!”
Your book looks interesting. Is it available at local bookstores? I hope your reading scheduled for February 10 gets rescheduled.