Hello, your close friend Behr here, aka Itzak Berky.
We arrived last night in Volgograd via military transport planes (fast becoming my favorite mode of travel, although private jet remains my most favorite). The bearded men are confusing me. On the one hand they talk about how much they "want" me. On the other hand they keep telling me they hate me. Apparently (according to bearded Russian men) when I was injected with chemicals and dosed with radiation by my adoptive father and set loose as The Bear of Berlin, I killed hundreds of Red Army soldiers with my ball-peen hammer and biting mouth with retractable jaw. So, they are still mad about that business, but they creep me out the way they look at me and say, "We want him." I don't think it is sexual but you never know.
The two children are insisting that the bearded men let us all go so they can throw me into a fire. I've never felt so loved in all my life because also the dead German soldiers who glow red with spooky eyes want me as well. They are surrounding the city and trying to start a seige. The large dude in the fancy uniform with the pretty lightning bolts on his lapel is riding his horse around the city in the air instead of on the ground where horses and cattle belong. And people shouldn't be allowed to fly in a airplane unless (a) They have more than one million dollars in financial holdings, (b) Have sworn allegiance to President Trump. The bearded Russians are annoyed with me when I discuss this topic.
The leader of the bearded men took me to see this weird old guy who is in charge, possibly a mayor or something. I figured I would get a lecture or something equally awful but then this dude tells the bearded leader man that he is dead and tries to set him on fire. Around this time the children and the hairless ass weasel were able to slip out of the city. This is good because I do not like the meal they gave me last night. It was too bland for my tastes as I have a highly refined palate.
Your friend Behr wishes these nitwits would make up their mind about what to do with me but the dead soldiers seem to want me something bad. The hairless ass weasel said something about them being scary and nasty but I think they seem very nice.
My friends.