LITTLE HITLERS

I took a job selling little Hitlers on the street. They were two inches tall and perfectly articulated. I had a good corner outside a Starbucks, and I would let the Hitlers wander around the table and wait for customers. Most people just stopped to gawk or listen to them orate in their weird squeaky voices. People always asked what they were saying. I told them, I don’t know, I don’t speak German. But the truth is, I do. My parents are from Frankfurt. But I have kids to feed, and I knew that a translation would blow the sale.