Ganondork
goo
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2010
Hey guys! So this weekend, I've been working on a satire that my English teacher assigned us. I figured I might as well post it here; it's about 2000 words, so not that long of a read. I hope you guys enjoy it!
The darkness loomed over the land, the leaves on the trees hanging like nooses. The moon was covered by dark clouds, rendering the path covered in a thick fog. The path was commonly used, as evidence by the grooves in it created by footsteps. The silence dragged on, only interrupted by the eerie breeze that wound its way around the trees. At the end of the path was a grand castle, cut off from the world by a large steel fence. The spires nearly reached the sky itself, the gargoyles staring down at the world with a sneer. A moat completed the scene, separating the brick castle from the fence. The wooden drawbridge stood tall, the chains that lowered it were coated in rust.
The sound of footsteps penetrated the silence, the crows evacuating their nests in the trees. A single one let out a cry, which was in turn echoed by dozens of others. Three figures emerged from the mist, two holding the third and dragging him down the path. The two were clad in armor made of leather, while the third wore simple rags. His dark complexion hid him better than the other two men. He hung his head low, seemingly defeated.
They approached the gate and the silhouette on the left took a key from his pocket and placed it in the lock. The gate opened with an eerie creek, and the two men walked forward, pulling the reluctant third figure with them. The man on the right called to the men guarding the drawbridge, who slowly lowered it with a crank. It lowered with reluctance and a significant amount of creaking.
The men stepped through the castle and into the throne room. They let the third man onto his feet and shoved him toward the figure sitting in the chair. He was a young man with a large gut. His hair was slicked back with cheap hair product, and he watched with beady eyes. “Obama, I have captured you at last,” he said, rising from his throne.
“Now, now, Kim,” Obama said, taking a step back, running into the two men, who shoved him forward again. “There is no need to be hasty.”
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Kim Jong un said, stepping closer to Obama. He put on a pair of sunglasses, and took a gold chain out of his pocket, putting it around his neck. “Drop a beat, my most loyal guards.” The two men did so, beginning to beatbox. Kim began to sway to the beat, beginning his rap he prepared for Obama:
“Now this is the story all about how
My country got flipped upside down
Now if you take a minute and sit right there
I’ll tell you how I became the emperor of a country called North Korea.
“North of the border I was born and raised
In the labor camps is where I spent most of my days
Chillin’ out, maxin’, relaxin’, playing Call of Duty after homeschool
“When Obama and his guys, they were up to no good
My dad wanted to destroy their neighborhood
He had one little stroke and then he died
And they told me ‘You are now the emperor of North Korea!’
“I whistled for a plane and when it came near
I told him ‘Take me to Pyongyang!’
I pulled up to the castle ‘round 11 or 12
And I told the guy ‘Go home, smell you later!’
I looked at my kingdom, I was finally there
To sit on my throne as the emperor of North Korea!”
Obama was dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure which was worse; being captured by a foreign menace, or said foreign menace’s apparent lacking in the ability to rap. Kim looked thoroughly pleased with his own performance. “So what did you think?”
“It was,” he paused, unsure of how to describe it. “Original.”
Kim Jong un, clearly unaware of the sarcasm, smiled, pleased with himself. “I thought you’d like it, given your… Um… Color.”
Obama was enraged. He gave Kim Jong un a nasty look, snarling. “That’s incredibly racist, Kim. I don’t appreciate that. I do not enjoy rap, I’ll have you know; I prefer smooth jazz!”
“So you didn’t appreciate the rap I prepared for you?”
“No,” Obama said, looking away uncomfortably.
Kim Jong un was clearly hurt. He turned, a tear forming at the corner of his eye. “Take him away,” he said in a hushed tone. He left the room as the guards carried Obama to the dungeon.
The prison was a grimy place; rats roamed freely, their ribs visible. In all honesty, Obama reasoned, it wasn’t much worse than the actual castle. He put his hands on the bars, and peered outside of it. Kim Jong un approached, frowning. “I expect an apology.”
“You will not find one, Kim,” Obama said.
“I will give you two options,” Kim looked Obama in the eyes. “One, you apologize, or two, you assist me in destroying America.”
“What if I don’t help you destroy America?” Obama’s eyes portrayed alarm.
“Then I will have you executed.” Kim laughed, but he began to wheeze moments after. He pulled out an inhaler and put it to his lips. Overcoming his asthma attack, he looked back at Obama, smirking.
“Wouldn’t that make it three options?” Obama asked, raising his eyebrow.
Kim stopped and thought about it for a moment. Frustrated, he stomped the floor. “Shut up!” He regained his composure. “Now, make your choice.”
“Destroy America,” Obama said without a second thought.
Kim was taken aback. “O-of course! I knew you would see it my way! Now, what do you plan to do?”
“I thought you had a vague idea, Emperor,” Obama said, smirking. An idea was already forming in his head. And for once, it wasn’t about Michelle’s sweet new bangs.
“Between you and me,” Kim got closer to Obama, his voice hushed. “I’m only doing this to impress my Generals. I’m just going through the motions, hoping a grand plan will fall into my lap.”
“Look no further,” Obama said, smiling from ear to ear. “I have an idea.”
“Oh, do tell!” Kim Jong un seemed to perk up, his smile mirroring Barack’s.
“Well, I’m aware that your country is a few years behind us in technology, but what’s the most powerful projectile weapon that you have in your hands?” Obama was unsure, and feared the worst – nuclear weapons.
Kim thought about it for a moment. “Well, we have cannons.”
Obama stifled a laugh. “Now, what you need to do is point your cannons in the direction of America, and fire. That will certainly destroy America.”
“Brilliant!” Kim said, turning to leave. “America will be no more by tomorrow!”
The room was small, dark and without decoration. A single table with four chairs adorned the center of the room. Three of the chairs were occupied by muscular men garbed in the green uniform of North Korea during wartime. They were all scowling, but not saying anything. They all watched the door directly in front of them.
After a few minutes, the knob turned and the door opened. Kim Jong un stepped through the doorway and sat down in the only vacant chair. He seemed thoroughly pleased with himself, his foolproof plan fresh in his head.
“Why do you smile, Emperor?” One of the men slammed his fist on the table, growling.
“Did we not destroy America with our plan?”
“No, you fool!” the man directly next to him said. “You destroyed Sinŭiju; you weren’t even close to America!”
Kim began to stammer. “But Obama said-“
“Obama tricked you,” the third man said, his face showing contempt for the Emperor.
“We were at least close to America,” Kim Jong un said, “Perhaps if we position the cannons closer to the North Korean border, we can destroy America.”
The three men collectively sighed. They took out a large map of the world and placed it on the table. “Point for us where America is.” Kim Jong un did as they asked. He pointed to a small island off the coast of Asia. “That’s Japan.” One man said. Kim pointed to another point on the map. “That’s South Africa.” The three men were growing agitated. Kim pointed to a third spot. “For the love of God, Kim – that’s North Korea!” The man flipped the table over. “Either you figure out a way to destroy America, or we’ll find someone who will.”
Kim was clearly frightened. “Y-yes, my Generals.” He quickly fled the room, heading for the prison.
“It didn’t work?” Obama asked as Kim stepped through the prison entrance. Obama noted the sour expression on the Emperor’s face.
“We destroyed a North Korean city instead.” Kim pouted for a moment.
“You must not have positioned it close enough to the border.” Obama stifled a smile.
“That’s what I told my Generals!” The Emperor thought for a moment. “Do you have any other ideas?”
“Of course,” Obama said, thinking for a moment. “Ask Russia for help. But you have to do it in a way that gains their respect, otherwise they won’t assist you. Bring a small army of one thousand men – all armed, mind you – and offer the Russians an ultimatum; either they assist, or they go to war with North Korea. They’ll be so impressed by your power that they’ll help you.”
“No wonder you went to Harvard!” Kim seemed content with the idea. He turned and left.
A few months passed since the conception of the idea, and Kim found himself back in the room with his Generals. Again, they seemed angered. “How fares our campaign to gain Russia’s favor?”
“Terrible,” one general said. “Half of our men didn’t even make it to Moscow before they died. The other half were executed on the spot.”
“Why did you send them out in the middle of the winter?” a second general asked. “Do you not understand that Russia is cold during the winter? You didn’t even give them supplies to help them survive. They had to scavenge as they marched.”
“Well Obama didn’t say anything about suppl-“
“Forget about Obama – he’s only been hurting our country.” The third general said. “Do not disappoint us again.”
“Y-yes.” Kim scurried out of the room and back to the prison.
“How fares the plan?” Obama inquired the moment Kim stepped through the door.
“It failed miserably. I have one final chance to destroy America.”
“Don’t worry, Kim; I prepared the best plan for last.” Obama put his hands on the bars, his rags torn in various places. His eyes seem to have grown sunken, but they still sparkled with mischief. “Release me, and I’ll lead America to a march to their death.”
“That is a fantastic plan! Surely this plan cannot fail. You will be released and flown first class to America.” Kim turned and left the room, leaving Obama to his own devices. The moment the door leading to the prison closed, Obama erupted into laughter.
Months passed since Obama was returned to America and nothing seemed to have happened. Kim found himself walking to the small room where the Generals met, unsure of his fate. Surely Obama pulled through, and he just didn’t hear the news yet.
The moment he entered the doorway, he was bombarded with questions from his Generals.
“Why did you secretly release Obama without our consent?”
“Did you know that he told the entire world about our country?”
“We are the laughing stock of the world; all because of you!”
Kim was dumbfounded. How could Obama have failed him? “He said he would lead the Americans to a death march.”
“All he’s done so far is told the world about our simpleton leader who will believe anything, regardless of how ridiculous the idea is.” The Generals were all standing at this point.
“You’re out of chances, Kim,” they all said.
“No, please – just one more chance!”
“It’s too late,” they said.
“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” Kim began to perspire, the anticipation killing him.
“The worst thing we can imagine.”
Kim got on his knees and began to beg for forgiveness. “Please, please, I just want one more chance!”
“No. There are no more chances to be given. As punishment, you are confined to your room without your Xbox, and you can’t watch the NBA.”
Kim Jong un couldn’t imagine a worse punishment. “Why can’t you just kill me?”
“Wait – you’d rather be killed?” The Generals all gave each other perplexed looks.
“Yes! Please! I can’t live without my LeBron and Call of Duty!”
All three Generals drew a gun and fired it at Kim. “The Heat is overrated anyway.”
***
The darkness loomed over the land, the leaves on the trees hanging like nooses. The moon was covered by dark clouds, rendering the path covered in a thick fog. The path was commonly used, as evidence by the grooves in it created by footsteps. The silence dragged on, only interrupted by the eerie breeze that wound its way around the trees. At the end of the path was a grand castle, cut off from the world by a large steel fence. The spires nearly reached the sky itself, the gargoyles staring down at the world with a sneer. A moat completed the scene, separating the brick castle from the fence. The wooden drawbridge stood tall, the chains that lowered it were coated in rust.
The sound of footsteps penetrated the silence, the crows evacuating their nests in the trees. A single one let out a cry, which was in turn echoed by dozens of others. Three figures emerged from the mist, two holding the third and dragging him down the path. The two were clad in armor made of leather, while the third wore simple rags. His dark complexion hid him better than the other two men. He hung his head low, seemingly defeated.
They approached the gate and the silhouette on the left took a key from his pocket and placed it in the lock. The gate opened with an eerie creek, and the two men walked forward, pulling the reluctant third figure with them. The man on the right called to the men guarding the drawbridge, who slowly lowered it with a crank. It lowered with reluctance and a significant amount of creaking.
The men stepped through the castle and into the throne room. They let the third man onto his feet and shoved him toward the figure sitting in the chair. He was a young man with a large gut. His hair was slicked back with cheap hair product, and he watched with beady eyes. “Obama, I have captured you at last,” he said, rising from his throne.
“Now, now, Kim,” Obama said, taking a step back, running into the two men, who shoved him forward again. “There is no need to be hasty.”
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Kim Jong un said, stepping closer to Obama. He put on a pair of sunglasses, and took a gold chain out of his pocket, putting it around his neck. “Drop a beat, my most loyal guards.” The two men did so, beginning to beatbox. Kim began to sway to the beat, beginning his rap he prepared for Obama:
“Now this is the story all about how
My country got flipped upside down
Now if you take a minute and sit right there
I’ll tell you how I became the emperor of a country called North Korea.
“North of the border I was born and raised
In the labor camps is where I spent most of my days
Chillin’ out, maxin’, relaxin’, playing Call of Duty after homeschool
“When Obama and his guys, they were up to no good
My dad wanted to destroy their neighborhood
He had one little stroke and then he died
And they told me ‘You are now the emperor of North Korea!’
“I whistled for a plane and when it came near
I told him ‘Take me to Pyongyang!’
I pulled up to the castle ‘round 11 or 12
And I told the guy ‘Go home, smell you later!’
I looked at my kingdom, I was finally there
To sit on my throne as the emperor of North Korea!”
Obama was dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure which was worse; being captured by a foreign menace, or said foreign menace’s apparent lacking in the ability to rap. Kim looked thoroughly pleased with his own performance. “So what did you think?”
“It was,” he paused, unsure of how to describe it. “Original.”
Kim Jong un, clearly unaware of the sarcasm, smiled, pleased with himself. “I thought you’d like it, given your… Um… Color.”
Obama was enraged. He gave Kim Jong un a nasty look, snarling. “That’s incredibly racist, Kim. I don’t appreciate that. I do not enjoy rap, I’ll have you know; I prefer smooth jazz!”
“So you didn’t appreciate the rap I prepared for you?”
“No,” Obama said, looking away uncomfortably.
Kim Jong un was clearly hurt. He turned, a tear forming at the corner of his eye. “Take him away,” he said in a hushed tone. He left the room as the guards carried Obama to the dungeon.
***
The prison was a grimy place; rats roamed freely, their ribs visible. In all honesty, Obama reasoned, it wasn’t much worse than the actual castle. He put his hands on the bars, and peered outside of it. Kim Jong un approached, frowning. “I expect an apology.”
“You will not find one, Kim,” Obama said.
“I will give you two options,” Kim looked Obama in the eyes. “One, you apologize, or two, you assist me in destroying America.”
“What if I don’t help you destroy America?” Obama’s eyes portrayed alarm.
“Then I will have you executed.” Kim laughed, but he began to wheeze moments after. He pulled out an inhaler and put it to his lips. Overcoming his asthma attack, he looked back at Obama, smirking.
“Wouldn’t that make it three options?” Obama asked, raising his eyebrow.
Kim stopped and thought about it for a moment. Frustrated, he stomped the floor. “Shut up!” He regained his composure. “Now, make your choice.”
“Destroy America,” Obama said without a second thought.
Kim was taken aback. “O-of course! I knew you would see it my way! Now, what do you plan to do?”
“I thought you had a vague idea, Emperor,” Obama said, smirking. An idea was already forming in his head. And for once, it wasn’t about Michelle’s sweet new bangs.
“Between you and me,” Kim got closer to Obama, his voice hushed. “I’m only doing this to impress my Generals. I’m just going through the motions, hoping a grand plan will fall into my lap.”
“Look no further,” Obama said, smiling from ear to ear. “I have an idea.”
“Oh, do tell!” Kim Jong un seemed to perk up, his smile mirroring Barack’s.
“Well, I’m aware that your country is a few years behind us in technology, but what’s the most powerful projectile weapon that you have in your hands?” Obama was unsure, and feared the worst – nuclear weapons.
Kim thought about it for a moment. “Well, we have cannons.”
Obama stifled a laugh. “Now, what you need to do is point your cannons in the direction of America, and fire. That will certainly destroy America.”
“Brilliant!” Kim said, turning to leave. “America will be no more by tomorrow!”
***
The room was small, dark and without decoration. A single table with four chairs adorned the center of the room. Three of the chairs were occupied by muscular men garbed in the green uniform of North Korea during wartime. They were all scowling, but not saying anything. They all watched the door directly in front of them.
After a few minutes, the knob turned and the door opened. Kim Jong un stepped through the doorway and sat down in the only vacant chair. He seemed thoroughly pleased with himself, his foolproof plan fresh in his head.
“Why do you smile, Emperor?” One of the men slammed his fist on the table, growling.
“Did we not destroy America with our plan?”
“No, you fool!” the man directly next to him said. “You destroyed Sinŭiju; you weren’t even close to America!”
Kim began to stammer. “But Obama said-“
“Obama tricked you,” the third man said, his face showing contempt for the Emperor.
“We were at least close to America,” Kim Jong un said, “Perhaps if we position the cannons closer to the North Korean border, we can destroy America.”
The three men collectively sighed. They took out a large map of the world and placed it on the table. “Point for us where America is.” Kim Jong un did as they asked. He pointed to a small island off the coast of Asia. “That’s Japan.” One man said. Kim pointed to another point on the map. “That’s South Africa.” The three men were growing agitated. Kim pointed to a third spot. “For the love of God, Kim – that’s North Korea!” The man flipped the table over. “Either you figure out a way to destroy America, or we’ll find someone who will.”
Kim was clearly frightened. “Y-yes, my Generals.” He quickly fled the room, heading for the prison.
***
“It didn’t work?” Obama asked as Kim stepped through the prison entrance. Obama noted the sour expression on the Emperor’s face.
“We destroyed a North Korean city instead.” Kim pouted for a moment.
“You must not have positioned it close enough to the border.” Obama stifled a smile.
“That’s what I told my Generals!” The Emperor thought for a moment. “Do you have any other ideas?”
“Of course,” Obama said, thinking for a moment. “Ask Russia for help. But you have to do it in a way that gains their respect, otherwise they won’t assist you. Bring a small army of one thousand men – all armed, mind you – and offer the Russians an ultimatum; either they assist, or they go to war with North Korea. They’ll be so impressed by your power that they’ll help you.”
“No wonder you went to Harvard!” Kim seemed content with the idea. He turned and left.
***
A few months passed since the conception of the idea, and Kim found himself back in the room with his Generals. Again, they seemed angered. “How fares our campaign to gain Russia’s favor?”
“Terrible,” one general said. “Half of our men didn’t even make it to Moscow before they died. The other half were executed on the spot.”
“Why did you send them out in the middle of the winter?” a second general asked. “Do you not understand that Russia is cold during the winter? You didn’t even give them supplies to help them survive. They had to scavenge as they marched.”
“Well Obama didn’t say anything about suppl-“
“Forget about Obama – he’s only been hurting our country.” The third general said. “Do not disappoint us again.”
“Y-yes.” Kim scurried out of the room and back to the prison.
***
“How fares the plan?” Obama inquired the moment Kim stepped through the door.
“It failed miserably. I have one final chance to destroy America.”
“Don’t worry, Kim; I prepared the best plan for last.” Obama put his hands on the bars, his rags torn in various places. His eyes seem to have grown sunken, but they still sparkled with mischief. “Release me, and I’ll lead America to a march to their death.”
“That is a fantastic plan! Surely this plan cannot fail. You will be released and flown first class to America.” Kim turned and left the room, leaving Obama to his own devices. The moment the door leading to the prison closed, Obama erupted into laughter.
***
Months passed since Obama was returned to America and nothing seemed to have happened. Kim found himself walking to the small room where the Generals met, unsure of his fate. Surely Obama pulled through, and he just didn’t hear the news yet.
The moment he entered the doorway, he was bombarded with questions from his Generals.
“Why did you secretly release Obama without our consent?”
“Did you know that he told the entire world about our country?”
“We are the laughing stock of the world; all because of you!”
Kim was dumbfounded. How could Obama have failed him? “He said he would lead the Americans to a death march.”
“All he’s done so far is told the world about our simpleton leader who will believe anything, regardless of how ridiculous the idea is.” The Generals were all standing at this point.
“You’re out of chances, Kim,” they all said.
“No, please – just one more chance!”
“It’s too late,” they said.
“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” Kim began to perspire, the anticipation killing him.
“The worst thing we can imagine.”
Kim got on his knees and began to beg for forgiveness. “Please, please, I just want one more chance!”
“No. There are no more chances to be given. As punishment, you are confined to your room without your Xbox, and you can’t watch the NBA.”
Kim Jong un couldn’t imagine a worse punishment. “Why can’t you just kill me?”
“Wait – you’d rather be killed?” The Generals all gave each other perplexed looks.
“Yes! Please! I can’t live without my LeBron and Call of Duty!”
All three Generals drew a gun and fired it at Kim. “The Heat is overrated anyway.”
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