Volodymyr Zelenskyy was getting bored. He snorted a line of coke and sunk deep into his leather chair, massaging his weary face meticulously.
— Next! he shouted all of a sudden, and a young woman entered the room and bowed.
Volodymyr rose from his chair and blinked awkwardly. After a long stare, he trotted toward the unfamiliar face without breaking eye contact, stopping inches away.
— Who is this boy? he asked, visibly befuddled.
— This is not a boy Mr. President, his assistant replied. This is a girl. Her name is Greta Thunberg. She is a climate warrior.
Greta smiled.
— Climate warrior? What about real warrior?
— She is not a real warrior, Mr. President. She fights with speeches and publicity stunts.
Volodymyr frowned.
— It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. President, said Greta, extending her arm for a handshake.
The handshake was denied.
— How much money did you bring? Volodymyr asked, coldly.
Greta startled.
— Money? Um… money for what?
— For Ukraine.
— Oh. Um… I didn’t bring any money but—
— Then why are you here?
— Oh! I came to Ukraine because I want to spread the message of climate—
— Shut up scum! bawled Volodymyr as he viciously slapped her dumb, confused face.
Greta tumbled onto the floor.
— Get this stupid bitch out of my sight and send her to Bakhmut, he ordered, then bolted to his desk and snorted another line of coke.
A henchman swiftly put a bag over Greta’s head and took her away.
— Next! shouted Volodymyr, sinking back into his leather chair, and a young man entered the room and bowed.
