The Three Kings and their Conversation.
October 1st 1993. 17:23. East Berlin, Marx Memorial University Hospital, Special Wing
All three men could speak Russian, it came easier to Milosevic than Honecker's , which sounded artificial, accented and overly academic. But that could forgiven, because for a german at least he had a sense of humor. Romanov was an older man but no older than Honecker, Milosevic was on the way to recovery. Fucking Croat Scum... Milosevic made a toast to Honecker "You've proven to be a friend to me while I've been here, I havent known you long but I see you as a good man and an even better communist. I toast to you proving those frauds (charlatans) wrong!" Milosevic downed the high grade vodka down without blinking. Romanov who had been quiet lately seemed to forget whatever was troubling him as he clacked his shot glass against the table. Honecker couldn't help but shudder, but years of diplomacy with Russians had trained his gag reflex, but apparently not his liver. Romanov looked at him "Absolutely! Honecker, your accomplishments and service to your people make mine look like nothing." They both knew that was wrong, but Honecker appreciated that he would say that. Honecker replied "You, don't have to illustrate an artistic picture for me. I am beginning to come to terms with it. But Grigory, let me say, there were times I doubted we could hold on. The imperialists, the capitalists, it seemed like they almost had us, like the barbarians at the gates of Rome. This new generation" All three men grimaced.
Just as Romanov began pouring another round as he said. "Don't forget Honecker, the communism Marx had promised us is so close, I don't know if I'll live to see it" Milosevic looked at him. "But if the Barbarians were at the gates, you were the one who manned the walls. I drink to that, and to those who come after us, so that communism may one day be achieved." All three men clinked their shot glasses against each other, this round seemed to go down easier than the last. Romanov looked at Milosevic and chuckled "I was in a bad mood since I came back from the south." He paused "I gotta admit, when I read the report of what occurred, I had a good laugh" Honecker even smiled, not even looking for permission as he had been trained to do all those years ago. Milosevic looked down and pretended to feel shame, while he put his eyes at his feet, Romanov rolled his eyes at Honecker, who had to suppress another laugh. Romanov slapped Milosevic "No need to feign shame, I've done and seen much worse. I can't tell you what I'd do to avoid a defeat let alone letting me die for some perverse scum's satisfaction. Let's have one more round, for her" Milosevic looked up and nodded, maybe he did feel a slight bit of shame.
As hours passed, Milosevic retired, according to his doctors he shouldn't have been drinking at all. Honecker and Romanov talked, of the good old days, Romanovs predecessors, how they all used to laugh about Brezhnev. Romanov asked him how his lips tasted and they both laughed. Honecker wasn't supposed to drink either, but he figured what did he have to lose. Their carousing went on, but only because Romanov had an increasingly hard time accepting the loss of this old friend. "Me and you Romanov, we are relics of a different time. You have more time, make sure you prepare, prepare the... the... next series of people err.. generation for the future. They have no idea Romanov, the price, how it is. We are so close but so far away" Romanov seldom thought of his own mortality. "Don't be so serious Erich, this is not our last conversation. I'll see you tomorrow and the next time, we will be at the beach sharing some rum with Fidel."