Week 57

Putin ducked as shattered glass and plaster rained down upon the hall. When he looked up, he saw Depardieu had torn off his clothes.

While the famed actor’s arms and face were hairless, the rest of his body was covered in thick brown fur. He was a shaved bear!

As Putin processed this shocking revelation, Depardieu unleashed a ferocious roar, dropped to all fours, and charged the President.

At the last second, instinct kicked in, and Putin tossed his attacker with a fluid judo flip. The movement snapped him back to reality.

Putin watched his assailant tumble across the floor and slam into a dessert table. Then he looked around at the horror surrounding him.

Angry bears were everywhere. Up in the theatre’s many balconies, bears chased party guests and devoured the ones they caught.

Mickey Rourke lay pinned beneath a giant paw, desperately trying to ward off a snarling grizzly. “Not in the face!” he screamed.

Crouched beneath a massive ice sculpture of a poodle, Goldie Hawn and a plump oligarch tried to defend themselves with fondue forks.

“Why is this happening?” Putin wondered. “Who would dare attack my party? How could anyone be so bold, so … stupid?” Then the answer came.

“PUTIN! This is the Bear King’s revenge!” As the President turned toward the voice, a savage blow struck his head.

He staggered, waves of pain clouding his vision, and blinked as a blurry image of a bear resolved into his old nemesis.

“Orso!” Putin growled, “You look terrible.” And he did. Their last battle had crippled the bear, and now crude technology animated him.

“There are few doctors in the wilderness,” Orso replied, “but there are loggers, and their machines.”

He opened and closed one paw made from the steel claw taken from a skidder and grinned, revealing a mouth full of chainsaw teeth.

Hydraulic hoses snaked from his limbs into a rusty, yellow metal box protruding from his back. “I’ll kill you for what you’ve made me!”

“I’ll kill you for fun,” Putin replied, tearing off his shirt to reveal rippling muscles glowing a faint green. The two enemies charged.

Orso threw a wild haymaker with his claw; Putin ducked and countered with a ferocious body blow. Orso gasped in pain and retreated.

Using his hydraulically augmented strength, he began ripping up theatre seats that were bolted to the floor, hurling them at Putin.

Putin dodged the first one, and watched it fly across the hall and crash into Sharon Stone. Then he began punching them out of mid-air.

Putin knew he could handle Orso, but he could not protect all his celebrity guests while fighting. He needed help.

He pressed a button on a small device in his pocket. Moments later, he heard the sound of an approaching helicopter: The Pals were coming!

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