I crawled on my stomach through the underbrush. I never used a word. I just slipped around under the rocks like a snake. I was a snake, and there was a furious bird after me to eat my eggs. The bird was called "communism" and the eggs were called "god." I was called "fascism." We danced around like little hand-held puppets with name tags pinned to them. We enacted a crude drama about the self-destructive love affair between communism and fascism, with each eating the eggs of the other.