"...he gathered up his favorite toys and some snacks into a bindle..."
This is a story I wrote back in 1999 in reaction to then-current events, and then forgot about. Some of the diaries I’ve been reading lately have brought it back to mind, so I thought I’d share it.
The Story of the Boy Who Cried, ‘Clinton!’
[Content warning: Traditional fairy tale violence.]
Once upon a time there was a boy who loved fairy tales, and his favorite was “The Emperor’s New Clothes”. He was inspired by the story of how a single person with no signficant education or experience could be wiser than a whole crowd of people who had studied the issues in detail, and he prayed that someday he’d have the opportunity to emulate the hero of that story.
And, sure enough, one day he had the opportunity to view a royal procession. As soon as the King's carriage came into view, he shouted, “The King is naked! The King is naked!” Immediately every eye on the street turned to look at the King (who was of course fully dressed), and then every eye on the street turned back to look at the boy’s mother.
“Hahaha,” she winced. “Just think of what a dull and joyless place the world would be without the imagination of young children.” Then she took the boy home and gave him the ‘spanking’ of his life for embarrassing her in public again.
[By this I mean that she slammed his head into the cement floor of their hut until she was exhausted. This was her preferred method of discipline and she felt called upon to use it once or twice a week. She called it ‘spanking’.]
When he regained consciousness, the boy gathered up his favorite toys and some snacks into a bindle. “You have ‘spanked’ me for the last time,” he told his mother. “I am going out into the world to seek my fortune.”
“I suppose I can’t stop you,” his mother replied with barely-concealed glee. “After all, you’re twenty-eight years old.”
Soon the boy found himself in the town square. He climbed atop a discarded soapbox and announced, “The King was involved in a crooked real estate deal! The King was involved in a crooked real estate deal!” A few passers-by stopped to listen.
“A crooked real estate deal?!” said the Earl of Newt, leader of the Loyal Opposition in Parliament. He clucked his tongue. “Why, he could be deposed for that!”
“Wait a minute,” a humble farmer said. “I’m just a humble farmer, but I’ve heard about that real estate deal, and the King lost money on it. If it was crooked, it seems to me that he was one of the victims!”
“Well, yes, perhaps,” harrumphed the Earl. “But we won’t know until we do a full investigation. Boy, do you know of anything else we should investigate?”
“Yes, lots of things!” the boy exclaimed. “Do you have a pencil and paper? This could take a while!”
* * *
[OK, so I think we all know where the story is going from here. Let’s just skip ahead to the thrilling conclusion!]
* * *
“Let’s bake him into cookies,” the King bellowed. “I can’t remember the last time anybody baked cookies for me.”
“And who has time to bake cookies?” hissed the Queen. She produced a large knife of the sort that farmers use to castrate pigs. “Just slice him up into sandwiches and we can eat him in the carriage.”
A violent argument started, with crockery and lamps flying in all directions. Seeing his chance, the boy wriggled free of his bonds and ran to the window of his apartment. “Help, help!” he cried. “The King and Queen are actually hideous ogres. They’re gonna kill me, and they’re gonna eat me, and, and, and they’re gonna take away everybody’s guns!”
Some passers-by glanced at the window for a moment. They saw the boy suddenly vanish, as if pulled backwards by four enormous sets of claws. Then they all turned back to their business — all except for one small girl.
“Grampa, that man needs help!” she exclaimed.
“Just ignore him,” the Earl of Newt grumbled. “I lost my seat in Parliament because of his tall tales. They were all completely made up. (Well, except for the one about the King having a mistress.)”
“But what if he’s telling the truth this time? Can’t we just go inside and check on him?”
“Of course we can,” the Earl smiled. “It's your birthday, so we can do anything you want! Now, if we spend any more time here, then we might miss the beginning of the puppet show. But I’ll leave the choice up to you.”
While the Earl and his granddaughter went off to the puppet show, the King and Queen settled their argument and agreed to roll the boy up in a carpet, carry him back to the palace, and let the Royal Chef deal with him. The Royal Chef boiled the boy alive and served him to the King and Queen on a bed of lettuce with a delicate mint sauce and a side of french fries.
And they lived happily ever after.
[Here’s some historical context for the younger readers: The King and Queen are of course ‘evil’ versions of Bill and Hillary Clinton back during the Clinton Presidency, and the “Earl of Newt” is Republican Speaker-of-the-House Newt Gingrich. The “crooked real estate deal” is a reference to the so-called “Whitewater scandal”. That was one of a long string of imaginary scandals, where allegedly one or another of the Clintons had done something wrong, but nobody could ever quite explain what...the recent “Benghazi scandal” and “Email server scandal” are just the latest in the series. Gingrich and his associates wasted huge amounts of time and money on investigations, and eventually it was determined that Clinton and Gingrich both had mistresses, a thing which surprised no one. Gingrich was forced to resign from the House over his half of the scandal; he subsequently left his wife and married his mistress and they’re still together today. Clinton was politically weakened but stayed in office.]
[The line “Who has time to bake cookies?” is a reference to a 1992 micro-scandal of such breathtaking inanity that you wouldn’t believe me if I told you about it, so here’s a link: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/how-the-cookie-crumbles-the-great-first-lady-bake-off-851694.html ]
[The boy represents the right-wing media. (And parts of the 2016 left-wing media, I guess.) In real life, the right-wing media didn't get their just desserts at the end of the story, and in fact they’re just about as healthy as ever. And to this day they’re still shouting that a Clinton is ‘gonna take away everybody’s guns!’]
