The President Who Wished To Be King

There was once a President who was barely elected by the people. In fact, he had less votes than the other guy but his name was more recognizable and older. Some called him a prince. Others called him a dunce. His big ears and crooked nose looked funny, and when he spoke people thought he was dumb. He was only the President because a judge declared him winner. Little did the people know the judge loved the President’s father who had also been president and had appointed the judge. But supposedly there wasn’t any kind of concern because now the people live in a democracy not a kingdom, and there was no royalty. But there were still the rich and the poor. His funny face and dumb speech made him lovable to the poor. His deep pockets and family loyalty made him lovable to the rich.

Well, one day like all other days but not really like them, he woke with a migraine. Governing was very difficult work. In fact, it was some of the most difficult work he had ever done. It certainly was more difficult than bankrupting a baseball team. It was even more difficult than bankrupting an energy company and that is almost impossible. He longed for the simpler days when he didn’t have to persuade anyone why they were wrong, and he believed everyone was wrong except those that slipped him bundles of cash in the form of checks for his reelection campaign.

The migraine was blinding and throbbing. It was going to be a terrible day. He knew. He had a meeting with some advisor about a policy to make spying on people easier. It was as unpopular as he was, but the advisor was someone who also gave him a check so he had to listen. Then, there was a photo opportunity with children. He hated children because they reminded him of him. He was supposed to read a story to them about a king with no clothes. He often felt like that king. After the visit to the school, he was off to a luncheon with his wife. It was some sort of charity event for cancer or AIDS or heart disease or something. He believed reading to the children was charity enough. He also believed churches were better equipped to dole out charity. He liked when charity and salvation were linked. He even had a policy to make the link permanent. He didn’t care about history or laws that worked very hard at keeping church and state separated. He wanted a kingdom, and he knew that to there he would need to start marrying the two again. It is how kings kept power.

As he sat in his bathroom on the very cold toilet rubbing his head and blinking his eyes as he was trying to poop, a very tiny magical creature visited him. It was not a fairy or a leprechaun or a djinn or a saint or a gnome or an elf or a sprite or a nymph. It was no bigger a gnat and smelled like rotting feet. It had six eyes and a body like a pinup. Its four wings were translucent. He almost didn’t see it, but its smell could not be missed. He hadn’t pooped yet, so he searched for the origin of the stink. And there… the magical creature rested on his nose. He had to cross his eyes to see it, which mad him look even funnier that he already looked. Imagine a man with big ears, a crooked nose, a cowboy hat, which was his security blanket that he always wore when not in front of a camera, with his eyes crossed and sitting on a toilet trying to poop. If only a camera had been there, but it wasn’t so you will have to use your imagination, which I am sure has not been used often enough.

Well, this magical creature was resting on the President’s nose. It was on its way to its mother’s house, which was somewhere around the drain in the shower, when it needed a breather. The nose seemed like as good of a place as any other to rest. The President did not like that thing on his nose not one bit. It was ungodly, even though it was supernatural. If this thing was on his nose and was real, then that might make him question his God. He would have none of it. So he slowly lifted his left hand to swat the magical creature and hopefully kill it. But like I said he was not a very bright president, and he forgot that he was right handed and as a result had absolutely no coordination with his left hand so instead of hitting his nose he poked his left eye, which made him howl and the magical creature with the Betty Page figure, six eyes, and four translucent wings take flight.

Now, this magical creature was buzzing the President’s ears because it was agitated, and rightly so. The President had just tried to kill it, and it was pissed. The President with an unnatural stroke of luck swatted the magical creature and caught it in his left hand. Now, you don’t know just how lucky that was. The President’s left hand was always doing things it was not supposed to do. One time it patted an aide on her rump in front of his wife. He wanted to do it, but thought better of it especially in front of his wife. But his left hand had a mind of its own. Another time his left hand found some fine white powder, and while he knew that it might not be a good idea to sniff it because it might affect his employability in the future his left hand grew a long and deep nail on its index finger, scooped some up and put it near his nose. Now, the left hand did not make him inhale, but he had been holding his breath ad he had been made fun of for being a mouthbreather so naturally he had to take a deep breath through his nose. Needless to say, it did little to affect his employability. His pockets were that deep, and like I said his father had been President. And… vice president. And… governor before that. So the regular rules did not apply to him.

Well, that magical creature who was now trapped in the president’s left hand, screamed louder than could possibly come out of a body that small. It did not like being trapped, and so it started pleading.

"If you let me go, I promise to grant you one wish, but if you kill me I will curse this country and great tragedy shall befall you!”

The president while dumb was not a dumby. He replied, “What guarantee do I have that you will honor your agreement?”

“You have none, but I shall give you a preview before you decide. What is your wish?”

“That is simple,” said the President. “I wish to be king!”

“Consider it done,” and the magical creature bit the palm of the President’s left hand.

Suddenly, the president felt more powerful than he had ever felt. He knew that when he left the bathroom others would listen to him in ways no one had ever listened to him before. They would do as they were told, and he would not need to heed their advice. He was giddy with power and ready to rage. Then, the feeling went away.

“Thing,” he yelled. “You are a man of your word. That was the most powerful I have ever felt. I want my wish permanently granted.”

“Consider it done, but first you have to let me go.”

Well, something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. The spot in the palm of the President’s left hand where the magical creature had bit him was burning and itching. It was swelling quite quickly and soon covered his entire palm. The President did not like this, not one bit, and would not open his left hand.

“What have you done, thing,” he cried. “My hand hurts more than my migraine! Is this what I have to look forward to if I were king: small annoyances that grow to infinite proportions?”

The magical creature remained silent, or most likely couldn’t be heard, but it did not matter which it was because the only thing that mattered was the president couldn’t hear it.

“Speak, thing, or I shall squash you!”

Again there was no response or rather a response could not be heard. The President angry at the magical creature and irritated by the bit had a moment when his mind finally connected with his left hand, and he squeezed harder than he had ever squeezed before. And he felt the magical creature pop in his hand. Immediately, the swelling went away, and he was again alone in the bathroom with his migraine trying to poop.

Well, we all know what befell the President and the country that day. It was truly, truly tragic. It was told to the President as a whisper while he was reading a book to some students. Only, he could not have been reading because the book was upside down. It was being held by his left hand, which no longer was listening.

If you don’t know what happened that day, look it up as it is not my tale to tell, and others have told it better than I ever could. But the President did learn a very valuable lesson that day: there is no real difference between a king with no clothes and a country in turmoil.

And his curse? Well, it really wasn’t his. It was ours, and we are still living it.

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