She called her vagina Che. She said it was revolutionary. I raised my eyebrow and tilted my head as she raised her leg and arched her back. I saw it. Mustache and full beard. It had the aura of idealism and the aroma of the jungle. She said it fed the hungry. I didn't believe her, until I saw the stretch marks.
She called me Fidel, mumbled something about my cigar and asked if there was someplace we could go. I said I didn't have any money. She rolled her eyes, walked away and told me freedom isn't free.
Image taken from here: http://www.analitica.com/bitblio/che/default.asp