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NORTH KOREAN POCKET ROCKET (made in the USA). CHAPTER 7

A VULGAR OF POWER

KIM

Over the course of the next few months the following scene plays out . . .

North Korea, hungry to take a seat at the Big-Boy Table of the world, continues to assemble nuclear weapons.

Trump, hungry to feed his ego and struggling with a lack of vocabulary, ability to articulate cohesive thoughts and still operating under the understanding that he hates himself and doesn’t know what he’s doing, decides to try the same tactics he did with the Americans. He would just bully Kim.

First, he starts with global threats.

“North Korea best not make any more threats to the United States. They will be met with fire and fury like the world has never seen,” he said, with his arms crossed and his lips a little pouty on national television. He looked a little like Augustus Gloop from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Kim heard this and thought to himself, What is the biggest fire and fury the world has ever seen? He pictures the time when the United States dropped their own nuclear bomb on Japan and murdered a great number of babies and then wrote their history and called the atrocity against mankind justice so that they could sleep at night. That was pretty fantastic.

So then, Kim thinks to himself. Donald Trump is going to drop a nuclear bomb on me? On my country? On my people? I am the Supreme Leader of North Korea! I have to put up my defenses! Our nuclear program will now be doubled! Only I can effect nuclear weaponry on the Korean people! 

Trump then called Kim a “smart cookie.” Nobody really knew what it meant. Even Trump. Then he told Kim (over Twitter) that his previous comment about fire and fury really wasn’t tough enough.

Then one night, pacing wildly around the oval office Trump threw his fist in the air and screamed “ROCKET MAN!” He turns to Pence, points at him and says, “That’s it!”

Pence nods and leaves the room. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He just knows that he doesn’t want to be involved with Trump.

Ah, Pence was the perfect choice for VP. He’s weak. He has no spine. He’s easy to control. He has no real ideas or value of his own. He’s a blank piece of paper that I can write on as I see fit. VP Vanilla.

Trump then tweeted at Kim and began mocking him publically, referring to him as Rocket Man. This was an old trick. In fact, when Trump was in elementary school he wore a sweater with a rocket on it. On that day he stood up in front of the class to give a report on what he did over summer vacation. During the report, one of the lines was, “And I met a wonderful girl named Sarah.”

Donald really was infatuated with Sarah that summer. She was beautiful and from Ireland. She had an accent and red hair. It was the first time he ever felt something that resembled love. She was his very first pussy grab. It was magical.

During the speech, the worst thing possible happened to him. The worst thing possible that could happen to a young boy in a class. He got an erection. He couldn’t control it. He didn’t want it. He wanted to run and sit down but he couldn’t. It just grew and swelled up in his pants like a hideous, fleshy balloon.

The front row saw it first. Then the second row. Then the whispers started. Then the teacher said, “Donald?”

He already knew what was happening. He was starting to shake.

Then Chuck the Duck, a total piece of shit that used to sit in the back of the class and make quacking noises shouted out, “Nice boner, Rocket Man!” and then the entire class began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

The last thing he heard as he ran from the room and down the hall was Chuck screaming after him, “Got a rocket in your pocket, Rocket Man!”

Donald never came back to that school. Later in life he hired a hit man to have everyone in his class murdered. Except for Chuck. Chuck is now sitting in a hole somewhere. In the dark. Donald left him a long piece of rope and a book on how to make knots. If he wanted to kill himself he was going to have to learn how to do it first. A jar of creamy peanut butter was dropped down the hole on the first of every month. Chuck hated creamy peanut butter. He liked the chunky kind.

Donald smiles.

Rocket Man.

Yes.

He grabs his phone and begins composing an official tweet from the Twitter account of The United States of America. It reads:

Asked how Rocket Man is doing. Long gas lines forming in North Korea. Too bad!

Kim Jong Un, ie Rocket Man, calmly and professionally responded to Trump’s throw-away insult with:

Action is the best option in treating the dotard who, hard of hearing, is uttering only what he wants to say.

 This last phrase infuriated Donald. It infuriated him because he didn’t know what a dotard was and he had to go google his own insult. He thinks to himself, I’ll give it to that smart cookie, that was a good burn. Let’s see how good his burn is when I drop a bomb of fire on his qinking fat face.

So then two world leaders, both who go to the same shitty barber and both who go to the same shitty prep schools and both who learned their same shitty people skills from the same shitty wild mountain goats and both who were born to money and who both have no idea what it is like to be “normal” discuss the fate of our planet over a digital playground in an adult name-calling match.
Trump has finally become Chuck the Duck and Kim has finally become his own version of his childhood bully, a girl by the name of Jeong Rang. Man, she was evil. She’s currently sitting in a hole somewhere as well.

The sad truth is that if Trump and Kim got into a room together, they would actually find that they were more in common than they were different. They both wanted world domination and they were both incredibly short sighted and lacked self-awareness. They were both, collectively, two of the most incapable leaders the world had seen in recorded history. But if they got together, their stupidity would be completely unstoppable.

“It’s time to elevate this. Our time is now,” Donald says to an empty Oval Office.

Empty except for the camera. And whoever was watching on the other side.

Everyone answers to someone.

800

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