Euginy got off the bus quickly and walked to the nearest KFC at a brisk pace. While walking he pondered comrade Natasha's predicament. What she needed was companionship, but with her flatulent personality it would be hard to find a good match for her. Suddenly Euginy stopped in his tracks, held captive by the vivid memory of comrade Kentryov, Poutine's personal fart scapegoat. For years Kentryov had stood by the dear leader during important meetings to be ready to take the blame for dear leader's farts. He had performed his duties flawlessly, until one day he got distracted while dear leader was letting loose copious amounts of barking wind. Without Kentryov there to take the blame for the emissions, dear leader's secret tooting problem came to light. Like Natasha, Kentryov was also banished to the west to gather intelligence.

Euginy got to the glass doors of KFC and made an about face, deciding instead to walk 17 blocks back to his apartment. Once ensconced in his shabby digs, he set to work composing a message written in code on a 1 inch square of paper. With a magnifying glass, one could see that it read:

475483 48585 1-50398 38671919 8-959439 09283940-08389819840 0 0 9234984 3 49762095868 33-01837472 22 4760 0938145 4385 4 4 4854789 7274 282 4901 00293 8934-576892 99 564 784 828392 174239043 82394-45 34324

Euginy smiled at his handiwork. He then carefully laminated it with a piece of clear packing tape, wrapped the laminated square in a piece of foil, then tucked that package in between the layers of a moldy peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The comrade who would find it would do so under the guise of being a metal detecting hobbyist, from there the message would be passed on through a few more covert channels, and hopefully within a few months it should land at the desk of whoever Kentryov's handler was.