Editor: The Kingdom of Utopialand is currently at war with the Republic of Dystopialand. After a rout of the Royal Utopialandian army, the Kingdom is being overrun by Dystopialandian troops. The foreign army is quickly pressing toward Poohbaville, the capital of Utopialand, where His Excellency the Sir Grand Poohba, Supreme Commander of the Utopialandian Armed Forces and Most High King of Utopialand is in conference with his Ministers and Advisors in his royal palace.
“Hey, slave boy, bring me some more donuts! And make it quick!” declares His Excellency. “This meeting is now officially and royally declared open.”
“Your Excellency the Sir Grand Poohba, Supreme Commander of the Utopialandian Armed Forces and Most High King of Utopialand, here are your donuts,” says the slave, bowing.
“Your Excellency the Sir Grand Poohba, Supreme Commander of the Utopialandian Armed Forces and Most High King of Utopialand, Dystopialandian troops are marching toward Poohbaville this very minute. Their ETA is 1400 hours tomorrow. I propose we blow them all up with our nuclear warheads. This would stop their advance and have the beneficial effect of completely destroying their army, allowing us to invade Dystopialand unopposed!” yells the Right Honourable Sir Minister of Military Affairs and Blowing-Things-Up Affairs.
“Hmm… yes, that does make sense,” says His Excellency, his mouth full of donuts.
“Your Excellency the Sir Grand Poohba, Supreme Commander of the Utopialandian Armed Forces and Most High King of Utopialand, what the Right Honourable Sir Minister of Military Affairs and Blowing-Things-Up Affairs has said is completely ridiculous. We must keep our heads in this situation and act in a civilized manner. I propose that we send a delegation of accomplished diplomats to meet the enemy before it arrives,” says the Right Honourable Sir Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy.
“Hmm… yes, that does make sense,” says His Excellency, his mouth full of donuts.
“Your Excellency the Sir Grand Poohba etc., sending a delegation of paper pushers to meet an enemy army is cowardly, foolish, utterly, utterly… foolhardy!” stammers the Minister of Military Affairs and Blowing-Things-Up Affairs. “The plan presented by the Right Honourable Sir Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy makes absolutely no military sense!”
“Hmm… true, true. Well said, Right Honourable Sir Minister of Military Affairs and Blowing-Things-Up Affairs,” says His Excellency in between bites of a triple chocolate donut.
“Your Excellency the Sir Grand Poohba etc., deploying nuclear weapons against armies on our own soil would be disastrous. Many of our own tax-paying citizens would die, and our land would be rendered uninhabitable due to nuclear contamination. In short, your Kingdom would be destroyed. My plan is the only chance we have to save Utopialand,” says the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy.
“Hmm… I think… I think these are good donuts!” says His Excellency. “Send my compliments to the Royal Chef at once, slave boy.”
“Your Excellency! This is a matter of great importance! We require your decision at once!” exclaims the Right Honourable Sir Chief Advisor to the King.
“Oh, right. Well, uh… we certainly don’t want my Kingdom to be destroyed, now, do we?” says His Excellency. “Sir Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy, put your plan into effect immediately.”
“Marvelous! Marvelous, your Excellency! I will form a committee to pick the diplomats for the delegation at once!” replies the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy.
“A committee? A committee?” yells the Minister of Military Affairs and Blowing-Things-Up Affairs. “We don’t need a committee! We need military action! Your Excellency, I propose—“
“Now, now, Minister of Military Affairs and Blowing-Things-Up Affairs, you heard my decision,” says His Excellency. “We need to keep a civilized head and all that. The Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy will handle the situation now. You know, I find this all dreadfully boring—I hereby officially and royally declare this meeting adjourned. Say, why don’t you blow up another garden fountain on the palace grounds, like you did last week? My, that was fun!”
“Your Excellency, that reminds me. For some reason, both the Royal Gardener and the Royal Custodian of the Palace handed me their resignations yesterday…” says the Chief Advisor to the King.
“Oh, no matter. Hire new ones at once, Right Honourable Sir Chief Advisor,” says His Excellency. “Come along, Minister of Military Affairs and Blowing-Things-Up Affairs. Tell me, what explosives should we use this time?”
The next morning, the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy opens the first meeting of the Royal Emergency Utopialand Diplomatic Defense Committee, a committee put together to select the diplomats to meet the Dystopialandian army.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the first meeting of the Royal Emergency Utopialand Diplomatic Defense Committee (REUDDC for short). I have the privelege of chairing this committee. Dystopialand’s armies are rapidly pushing toward Poohbaville with minimal military resistance, as our military has, er… fallen apart. Let this ever be a reminder of the futility and undependability of military strategy, so that we may fully know that respectable diplomacy is the only—” The Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy is interrupted by a loud explosion from outside the palace which shakes the room violently.
“Slave boy! Please tell His Excellency and the Minister of Blowing-Things-Up to keep it down. Tell them to use lower power explosives or something—we’re trying to have a meeting here!” says the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy.
Another explosion rocks the room.
“This is really too much! These explosions are getting out of hand—” the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy is interrupted again, this time by the meeting room door being thrown open and a dozen soldiers in Dystopialandian uniforms rushing in.
“Everyone put your hands up! I am Colonel Hitlerstein of the Dystopialandian army, and I am taking charge of this palace!” yells a burly soldier with a heavy foreign accent, gun in hand.
“Who, what, when, where, why, how?” stammers the former Minister of Foregin Affairs and Respectable Diplomacy.
“That was an excellent demonstration of language proficency—the five W’s and one H. But I am not interested in you—where is the King?” yells the Colonel.
“I don’t know! I don’t know! You guys weren’t supposed to arrive for another four hours!” replies the former Minister.
“Hey, you! What are you doing?” the Colonel yells at me.
“I’m just recording the minutes of the meeting!” I reply.
“Give me that paper!” he says as he
Editor: The manuscript ends here.
