Comic: Silvia C.
I arrived in Santiago de Cuba on a cold December morning ready to defeat a few officers from the Interior Ministry, but to my surprise there was no battalion waiting for me at the airport. I grabbed a taxi and went into town.
There were thousands of motorbikes, but not a single Suzuki. On the sidewalks, neon signs: Liberal Party, Social-Democratic Party of Cuba, Christian-Democratic Party, a poster reading Communist Alliance for Survival, and in Cespedes Park, Oswaldo Payá was giving a speech.
“What’s going on here? Where’s the G2?” I asked.
“They emigrated to Havana because they weren’t given any cars or motorbikes,” said a fat guy who ultimately turned out to be Expósito, the Cuban Communist Party Secretary in Santiago de Cuba.
“How many are left?”
“There are about fifteen, they’re holed up in their Versalles Fort, which is now called the Communist Alliance for Survival. They shoot at anyone who enters, including me, they threw me out, accused me of being a capitalist because I opened some stores that sell cheese and butter. But how was I to know that cheese and butter turn people into dissidents?” he said, breaking down in tears.
I activated my anti-projectile bubble and went along to the Versalles (home of the Communist Alliance for Survival). On entering the door I encountered volleys of ground fire and crossfire that bounced off the surface of the bubble. Finally, a colonel came out with a white flag.
“What do you want?! Get out of here, this is a military zone!”
“What are you saying? All I can see is that in the infantry zone you’ve built a homeless camp. Besides, there’s no electricity here.”
“Ah, that is the Dream Delivery Housing, a few guys who they evicted before have been thrown out of their houses,” said the colonel.
“Well fine…! And now how am I going to defeat you if you’ve already all been defeated? How are we going to revive this?”
“It can’t be revived,” interrupted the official, “there are no resources, the people of Havana took off with everything and they don’t send anything from there. Conclusion, nobody wants to work for State Security today.”
It’s true that the number of Security cars and motorcycles in Havana is seriously affecting the ozone layer.
“I’ve got an idea. What if you find another form of financing? Let’s see… hmmm… I don’t know… AH! I get it, the CIA! Yes, the CIA! Lagarde said they would finance anything and like you, in the end you’re all in the same profession, maybe they can pull some strings.”
The colonel hesitated for a minute, the weary look in his spy’s eyes was lost in the immensity and his open mouth gave a glimpse of his snitch’s tongue; then he rose and said,
“And could I have a Chinese Geely make car, one of those they give the officials in Havana?”
“Sure, boy, if China is the major trading partner of the Gringos.”
“Well fuck it then, we’ll ask for financing from the CIA!” shouted the colonel.
Perfect, now I could return to Havana and come back in a couple months to defeat them. With any luck, they’ll meet me at the airport with at least one small battalion. Before I left I added only,
“And perhaps they could reinstate Expósito, what do you think?”
The colonel was annoyed.
“No, it would be crazy to let him back in again. He was stealing the butter and cheese from the fort to sell it to the good people of Santiago.”
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