Lenin of The StarsAs we sit on the terrace in the oppressive jungle heat, I slide a shot of crystal clear vodka across the glass table. The man who was once Senator Joseph McCarthy taps the rim with one index finger and chuckles.
"Come on now." He shakes his head, smirking. "You know I don't touch that stuff, Vladimir."
I shrug and throw back my own shot. Feel the burn rolling down my throat like a slow-motion solar flare. "I've had lots of names," I say as I pour another. "Why do you insist on calling me by that one?"
"Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov." McCarthy says it with grand sarcasm. "You'll always be Lenin to me."
"Ha." I down the second shot and clap the glass on the table. "And you'll always be an incompetent fear-mongering bastard to me."
"You talk like I didn't just kill
