Boris had been caught dipping his fingers into the till. The judge gave him prison with hard labour. He was put in a gang whose task it was to pick up all the junk on the side of the road that people has thrown out of their cars. The overseer had warned the prisoners that if they found anything of value, such as a five dollar bill, they should hand it in; even a dollar coin.
Boris thought that was governed by greed. The overseer was a megalomaniac. Boris couldn’t stand his guts. The supervisor was always cruel and unreasonable.
And would you believe it? Boris was picking up bits of trash and putting it in a bag when he came across a hundred dollar bill. A hundred dollars! He quietly pocketed it. The only reason the overseer wanted any money found to be handed in was because he wanted to keep it for himself.
“Has anyone found anything of value?” asked the overseer at the end of the day.
Silence.
“Has anyone found anything of value?”
Silence.
“You,” said the overseer to Boris, “you found a hundred dollar bill. Where is it? I planted it and I saw you pick it up.”
Silence.
“You only get one chance in Russia,” said the supervisor. He shot Boris in the head with a pistol.
“Let that be a lesson to you all.”