March 1st, aka...oh, nevermind.

March 1

 Or March 3rd, in the normal world. But you know what? If I do this for every single day, I shall go mad. Well, madder than I already am, claiming the throne to an imaginary land for lunatics.

 So now I'm temporarily sleeping in the drawf's drawer. It is a very large drawer, akin to a small apartment. Being the upper-class, mahogany-cabinet-livin' drawf he is, his home is very nicely furnished, though I am apt to smack my head constantly against the ceiling when I stand up (I am a slow learner, evidently).

  When I woke up this morning, I decided to take a stroll through the Woods (that's the name of the Drawf residential area. Wood, cabinet--har har). Without knowing how, I ended up in the seedy section of the plywood cabinets. I see a grimy old drawf in rags smoking a pipe, sitting on one of the steps outside. I hear a baby crying, and, looking up, a frazzled-looking thin female drawf trying to cook and calm her baby at once. The windows did not have glass. I can smell oily smoke filling the air, and there was a general feeling of poverty and neglect. It was all very miserable.

 When I walked back to my drawf's warm, comfortable apartment, I asked him what was being done by the government for the poor. Checking the apple pie baking in the stainless steel oven (he's an amazing cook, I can tell you that right now), he replied that President Bosh just slashed the welfare budget by half recently.

 "What?" I cried. Though when I thought about it, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.

 "Yes," he said. "He just won another term in government by promising a tax cut, and reducing government spending. That was very popular."

 "Cutting government spending--in this area?" I cried in outrage. Funny, I'd always thought of myself as a very politically apathetic person. I yawn when parliament debates come on TV and I change the channel. "Wait. Aren't there other political parties?"

 "Oh sure, this is a democracy after all." he said very sarcastically. "Steve Hapre's CPL--Conservative Party of Lalaland; the LLP--that's that crazed llama liberation one; the PUP, etc.. None of them better than the other. Thing is, I reckon Brak Bamao's Democratics would do alright--better than Bosh anyway--but Bosh has been in power for the last fifteen years, ever since monarchy was abolished."

 Wow, this was like Zimbabwe or something. And wow, I must've paid more attention in Human Geography class than I thought (despite barely passing the Politics unit, and my teacher phoning home because I was constantly making "irrelevant and irreverent remarks"--which was a good play on words, I thought--and texting. And doodling. And chewing gum after expressly being told not to--but let's not get into that right now).

"The problem is," the drawf went on passionately, "Lalaland is not meant to be democratic. Only monarchy--absolute monarchy--will work in a country of lunatics."

"But what if you get a tyrant?" It occured to me. "Like, I could easily decide to empty all of the nation's coffers on building a pyramid in tribute of me, or something." Or maybe an obelisk. Or a really flattering statue. Of gold.

No, Sara. Do not go down that road.

"Ah, but you would not." The drawf said wisely. "Lalaland's throne is not necessarily handed down a line of heirs. Your parents weren't rulers"--the very thought caused me much hilarity--"you were just chosen when you were born."

"Like the Dalai Lama!" I cried, delighted. Cool, I'd always wanted to be the Dalai Lama, and harboured a regret that I wasn't born in Tibet. Or male.

"Uh, yes," the drawf said uncertainly. "But your son or daughter could certainly be the next heir. Or they could not. They could be living in Lalaland already, or on the Earth. It's whoever that is most suited to rule this land."

I didn't know if that was a compliment or not.

"Anyways," my drawf said determinedly. "You must gather an army to overthrow Bosh. My opinion is that your best bet is the pirates of the Arsenic Sea."

Oooh, pirates. I immediately perked up.

The End

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