[ WP ] A man ends World War III by dropping a 'Your mom ' joke so epic the president of Russia kills himself in shame .

The tanks charged through the walls, the Hammer and Sickle blazing like a great inferno over their rusty metal. Walls were crashing down. The roof began to shudder, rolling and reverberating in the most ominous of tones. 2 men were holed up inside a makeshift fort in the next apartment block along, gazing out over the crumbling ruins of Paris. It was a corpse. The man on the right, small fellow with naught but dreams of muscle but a visible chip on his shoulder, leant into the radio that lay bleeding it's last scraps of charge away on the table between them. 
 
 `` God fucking damnit, Montgomery, we got, what, 3 minutes left? 3 minutes, tanks are here, you asshole! We're fucking dead!'' 
 
 `` The only thing's thats dead here is your sense of humor, Wheler. I've got a plan, dont worry'' 
 
 `` Yeah? YEH? Well hurry. The. Fuck. UP. 3 minutes, man!'' 
 
 Montgomery stood before the Kremlin. Any other man would have been intimidated, gazing towards the monolith doors and the towering structures. The building was an angry bear, bearing down on you any second now. 
 
 Not Montgomery. He was a *comedian*. He'd seen worse than this. He'd fought worse than his. And he could fight it again.'' 
 
 The silhouette of Montgomery strolled casually along the pathway to the door, his suit as colourless as his shadow. 
 
 Tasteful. 
 
 That was the only thing people thought when they saw the figure meandering along the cobbled road. Upon reaching the door, he adjusted his charcoal tie, held his head high and burst in. The doors flung open with unseen gusto, the wind billowed past his coat and slammed into every crack and crevice of the room. His impression was that of some ancient god. `` Perfect'', he though. `` An entrance is always good''. 
 
 The president of the 2nd Great Soviet Union lounged upon his marble throne. The halls about him were generously littered with guards, snipers and dogs. 
 
 `` Pshh, another peasant come to quarrel about your rations? If you wanted food, you should have become something other than a peasant. The End. Leave now, I have a Vodka and Bears to attend to.'' 
 
 `` Peasant? Why, Mr.President sir, I am no Peasant. I am a Comedian. A little music for the conversation, if you will allow it? Perhaps a drum beat of some sort?'' 
 
 Montgomery recovered a small Radio device from his pocket, stealthily activating it. The whole of Russia and the whole of the World could hear the conversation now. And everyone was listening. 
 
 `` You comedians are fucked up, you know that? Fine, whatever. STEPHAN! PUT ON THE BEAT OF THE DRUNKEN BEAR'' 
 
 A small, tittering drum beat began to play. 
 
 *TAT TAT TAT* 
 
 `` So Mr. President, it seems you have won the war'' 
 
 *TAT TAT TAT* 
 
 `` It was never really in doubt'' 
 
 *The noise was getting louder, now. TAT BOOM TAT* 
 
 `` Oh, but it was. Do you not remember the failed bear regiment?'' 
 
 *BOOM BOOM TAT* 
 
 `` PAH! Of course I do. Failed indeed, it was the shame of great mother russia'' 
 
 *BOOM BOOM BOOM* 
 
 No, Mr. President.'' 
 
 *BOOM BOOM BOOM* 
 
 `` Hm?'' 
 
 *BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM* 
 
 `` The Shame of Mother Russia... 
 
 *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* 
 
 WAS YOUR MOTHER!'' 
 
 *BAM* 
 
 `` I....no... she was... no... but....but you see..I- 
 
 `` It's over, Mr.President'' 
 
 The guards were doubled over, some falling from 10 stories up, collapsing over the bannisters from shere force of laughter. The whole Earth was guffawing with laughter. The President pressed a small green button on the Throne, and a shimmering golden revolver presented itself in front of him. He took in his wavering hands, staring at it with the torn sadness of a defeated man. 
 
 `` I'm sorry, Mother. I'm SORRY, MOTHER RUSSIA!'' 
 
.... 
 
 *Bang. * 

