Trump Towers, Talking Bears, and America's Newest Territory: The Absurd Backroom Deals to End the War in Ukraine

Behind the gilded doors of a Riyadh palace, under chandeliers so excessive they made Mar-a-Lago look like a minimalist’s dream, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov sat across from each other, hammering out a so-called "peace deal" for Ukraine—without Ukraine. While official reports painted the negotiations as serious and diplomatic, anyone with a functioning brain could imagine the sheer absurdity unfolding behind closed doors.

Rubio, already sweating like a Florida tourist trapped in a theme park bathroom without air conditioning, dabbed his forehead with a napkin that had long since surrendered to the flood. Lavrov, exuding the deadpan energy of a man who had never once experienced joy, calmly slid a stack of papers across the table.

"Let’s cut to the chase," Lavrov said, sipping his tea. "Russia keeps all currently occupied Ukrainian territory. In return, we allow the construction of Trump Towers in Moscow and St. Petersburg, with Ukraine receiving a 10% stake in the business."

Rubio, in the middle of gulping his third bottle of water, nearly choked. "So just to be clear," he wheezed, "Russia gets to keep everything, Ukraine gets some hotel revenue, and that’s… peace?"

Lavrov nodded solemnly. "It is a generous offer."

The Saudi officials observing the negotiations had quietly begun placing towels beneath Rubio’s chair to keep the palace from flooding. He tried to regain his footing. "Okay, so Ukraine was not invited to this meeting—"

"Correct," Lavrov interrupted.

"—but we expect them to agree to a deal where they get absolutely nothing except a sliver of a real estate venture?"

"They also get a voice role in Paddington 3," Lavrov added.

Rubio blinked. "I’m sorry, what?"

Lavrov slid another document forward. "President Zelenskyy will voice a bear in the upcoming Paddington sequel. Additionally, Ukraine will receive 5% of merchandise sales."

Rubio sat in silence, absorbing the words like a man who had just been informed that world peace now hinged on a CGI bear. He wiped his face again, but the sweat just kept coming. "So if Ukraine doesn’t accept the first deal, we bribe them with a movie role?"

"A highly lucrative one," Lavrov clarified. "Hollywood is very competitive."

By this point, Rubio was 90% liquid and desperately needed to pretend he was negotiating something that wouldn’t get him laughed out of Washington. He asked about alternative solutions. Lavrov, ever prepared, had several equally baffling backup offers.

The first was a “business-minded” approach to Ukraine’s loss of land. While Russia would officially annex all occupied territories, Ukraine would receive preferential access to the rare earth minerals in those regions. Lavrov described this as an economic solution to the war.

"Ukraine has the second-largest titanium reserves in the world," he said, tapping a satellite image of mineral deposits. "Also lithium, graphite, rare earths—materials critical to global industries. Russia keeps the land, but Ukraine gets discounted access to the resources. It is a fair deal."

Rubio wiped his forehead, blinking to keep the sweat from stinging his eyes. "So… Ukraine loses its land, but they still get to buy back the resources they already owned?"

"At a favorable rate," Lavrov corrected.

"Favorable for who?"

Lavrov sipped his tea.

Before Rubio could fully process the concept of a country being evicted from its own natural wealth and then being offered a customer loyalty discount, Lavrov unveiled his grandest idea yet: a U.S. peacekeeping zone between Russia and Ukraine.

"We propose a demilitarized buffer region," Lavrov said, unfolding a map. "About the size of Gaza. The United States will control it."

Rubio leaned forward. "Wait, what?"

"Prime real estate," Lavrov continued. "A few landmines, but mostly flat. Easy to build on. Very valuable in long term."

Rubio’s brain, already overheating from the combination of geopolitical nonsense and extreme dehydration, struggled to process what he was hearing.

"You’re saying the U.S. should… own a chunk of land between Ukraine and Russia? Like an American colony?"

"Not a colony. A peace zone," Lavrov corrected. "Perhaps a few golf courses. Maybe a water park. Stabilizing force."

Rubio’s suit had become a second skin, his body now so moisture-deprived that if he even thought about blinking too hard, his eyeballs might turn to dust.

"Sergey, are you actually suggesting that we build a Six Flags between two warring countries and call it peace?"

Lavrov steepled his fingers. "Perhaps Universal Studios. Higher quality. The branding is flexible."

With no good options, Rubio was forced to bring the original offer—the Trump Tower deal, the rare earth minerals buyback scheme, the Paddington 3 bribe, and the sudden creation of "United States, East Edition"—back to Washington for consideration. As he stumbled out of the palace, his shirt clinging to him like shrink wrap, he heard Lavrov call after him:

"We will need a decision soon. Paddington 3 starts production next month."

Rubio, now one failed negotiation away from turning into beef jerky, prayed that someone, somewhere, still had an ounce of common sense left.

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