Satan meets them at the gate.
"Just for fun, I'ma give you two both a choice. You can either go to American or Soviet hell."
"What's the difference, trucker?" asks Arlo Freedom.
"Would they not simply be the 2010s versions of our countries?" entreats Ivan Dmitrovich.
"Not really," Satan croons. "American hell is basically your normal life, only you have to eat a bucket of horseshit every day.
"Soviet hell is the same, only you eat two buckets."
"Yeehaw, and I thought Communism was bad! I'll take the one bucket." He takes off his cowboy hat as eagles and fireworks explode in the background.
"I am of likewise thought, kulak; capitalism and hell are terrible enough alone. I have lived in workers paradyise and wish to be send to worker's infyerno."
And to the rousing strains of the Internationale, Satan gives them their room numbers and sends them off in different directions.
Two months later, the American encounters his Soviet orientation buddy.
"Hey, partner, how you doin'? How's Soviet hell?"
"Very well, Tovarisch. I have gotten in much better shape." Ivan dances a small happy hopak.
"I can't sympathize," Arlo groans and clutches his decadent belly. "I'm pretty much used to the *taste* of the bucket of shit a day by this point, but it's killing me in the spare tire. How did you lose weight with two?"
"Well, I knew how the Soviet hell works... For the last two months, either there has been a shortage of horseshit, or some apparatchik requisitioned all the buckets!"
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