“And I present your president of the United States, Damien Williams!” I said in a muffled yet strong voice. Damien has been the president since mid January. Somehow, the people of America thought it would be a wonderful idea that, the little Asian boy I grew up with, was fit to be their president. It seems like yesterday that we were in grade nine, making a scrapbook on Romeo and Juliet. When he was elected president, it was no surprise to me that I was chosen to be his vice-president. He would make bad decisions, blow up a few countries, and maybe start a war with Canada. Like always, I would be there, once again, cleaning up his mess. Surely, he kept me around for other things, but cleaning up his little slip ups was my forte. When I was informed he wanted to “nuke” North Korea, I knew he had lost it...
Sure, when we were little kids, we would joke of us one day ruling the world: become supreme dictators and take the world by storm. But in all those stories there was a key difference. I was in charge. Plans were made by myself and he would carry them through, the 'Brains' and the 'Brawn'. Surely if you looked at us side by side, you would never guess that he is remotely athletic, which in actual fact he is not. More or less, he was good at the follow through after I made the master plan; he would perform what was needed for it to work. Such as in grade eleven. I came up with a plan to put chips in cups and then cover the chips with laxatives, then place them on the beach, and watch the hopeless beach comers get covered in seagull poop.
Not that Damien is not good at making plans. Since he was elected there are no more homeless cats and there is a McDonalds on every street. The hospital system has improved greatly and post secondary education is now free. The problem is Damien is quite the loose cannon and isn’t afraid to stand up for what he believes in. His plans are a wee bit darker than mine which can be scary at times. Little Kim, as we like to call him, or Kim Jung-un as the rest of the world knows him, offered Damien a snack when we were there. Cat. In places like Korea, Cat is not a pet, it’s a food. Poor little Kim didn’t know that Damien was obsessed with cats. Obsessed is putting it lightly. Citizens of the States are now required to own at least one cat. Seeing as I don’t want World War Three just yet I had to sweet talk him into a different way of dealing with the “North Korean problem” by sending troops in to rescue all the cats. Seems crazy, I know, but luckily Little Kim and I are now on the same page.
Recently North Korea has joined the UN, becoming buddy buddy with the main members. As for us, the last time we were invited to a summit Damien got dragged out kicking and screaming. If we did follow through with the plan, surely they would get involved. When he was elected I bought him “Running a country for Dummies.” Thinking he read it, I often whisper “Rule number 3” or even “Rule number 17” unaware of him having no idea what any of them are. Six months into his presidency we are already under water. The next three and a half surely will be interesting, but don’t worry, I'll keep you posted.
