The Wall

Christos Floratos

A satirical narrative originally written targeting the ridiculousness of Trump possibly winning the 2016 American Election. Fast-forward to 2020, and that reality is a bit to close to the grim fiction I wrote about.

To the south of our great nation, through the tears of China’s economy, through the reinforced titanium shutters on a 2 metre high central door built to welcome legal immigrants, and through the sounds of radio clipping and chatter of a small number of a mere million guards, lies this man’s finest work.

The Wall.

The Wall is a 100 metre high monument to patriotism and freedom. Its breadth is unmatched, rivalled only by three Olympic stadiums.

To think this marvel of nature actually exits is a feat to man’s capacity for innovation. This ingenuity can only be rivalled by a few great leaders throughout history. Leaders such as Hadrian and Qin Shin Huangdi, and now by our very own modern American legend. Those barbarians in the south can finally be kept at bay! No longer will they taint our society or work menial jobs we don’t want or escape their cartel-based lives. If they do try to cross the border, one of two options presents itself: a simple gun down of a whole family as they try to scale The Wall, or life imprisonment inside The Wall’s state of the art detention centre. Stealing America’s freedom is enough to get a person into Guantanamo, or if those illegal scoundrels are lucky, they simply stay here.

“We did it!”

A tear escapes the man as he his efforts are finally realised.  He allows it to roll down the leather-tough skin of his cheek, not wiping it away.

“We made America great again!” His voice raises a semi-tone gazing at the detention centre built within The Wall.

It is a beautiful sight: women, children, men.  All Mexican, all hoarded together in one big room. They are caught there through the actions of the brave American military men who guard and patrol The Wall.

Nonetheless, life is still a blessing. The invading Mexicans are deserving of the man’s generosity with essentials such as a blanket and a ration of four potatoes per family. The detention centre is filled to capacity. Three hundred and twenty seven more Mexicans were accommodated in this week alone!

These people are quite savage, spouting out sin in their Mexican tongue. “Diablo es el Presidente!”

They are not a proud race, being prone to tears, wringing of hands and snivelling pleas for compassion. Pitiful! They created more of a ruckus than the African Americans in their daily riots (another issue which the man has promised to address)!

Today was meant to be a milestone day. A day to celebrate the man’s greatest achievements to date. Surely in his brilliance, something he was to produce in the future would surpass this accomplishment. But nonetheless, this man has made his mark now. Outside the wall, the press lined up tenaciously, all with smiles and pens that had run out of ink. Children licked their Mexican flavoured ice creams as they sat atop their parent’s shoulder’s. Those same parents looked happily ahead.

“We introduce to you the 45th president of America, the saviour of patriotism, protector of the United States, the builder of walls, the destroyer of China, Champion of Women, Liberator of Illegal Immigrants, and Drinker of Regular Coke, Donald J. Trump.” Barry Obanner, chief controller of the wall, blares over the speaker, queuing the crowd of white people, black people, yellow people and even legally brown people to cheer Trump’s venerated name.

Taking the appropriate precautions, like a true leader does, Trump puts his foot out tentatively. He makes his way to the middle of the glass podium and adjusts his deep blue suit ever so slightly. Looking down at the masses below him, his smile stretches from eye to eye. His hair, like beaten and battered straw, sits atop his head like a crown.

Everything he is to say today will embody the true American Values of equality, hope, fairness and courage. His aim is to document his victory in the annals of American History. Greater than Lincoln, greater than Roosevelt, and greater than Kennedy.  Veni, vidi, vici.

The man in all his self-proclaimed brilliance puckers his lips like a duck, and then starts. “I’m not a racist. The president of Mexico, he’s one of my good friends. I love tacos, plenty of them. And I love Gloria from Modern Family. Mexicans are one of my favourite people. And I hear ya, I really do; you want the same opportunities as we do. But there’s a door right in The Wall that you Mexicans can walk through! It’s not that hard! With your appropriate paper work in one hand, and an American dream in the other you can come into my beautiful country. A good friend of mine, the Chinese President said I couldn’t build this wall. I showed him didn’t I? Because I went through the proper channels. I too started off in tough conditions. Now, I am a good person… with a great vision! Who built this magnificent Wall!”

He looks at the people below him, cheering, waving banners gesticulating approval and Snapchatting. T.V crews all interlaced with each other as they attempt to get the best angled-shot of Trump. Journalists feverishly jot notes on pads and laptops. Photographers push each other in a feeding frenzy to get closer to Trump. This is Donald Trump speaking to them!

“Do they even speak English?” Trump turns his head to his running mate, Mikey. Mikey shrugs.

“Whatever … your turn Mikey. Tell them why they need me for a 3rd term.” He grins, as Mikey comes to the stand, raising his hand following another uproar and chant for Trump.

Trump looks back at the crowd and breathes a sigh of relief. He is ready to continue serving his great nation. “Amazing display, Mr Trump. America’s future is secured!” Barry Obanner commends as he walks off the stage. He is as white as Trump, but envied his hair, for Obanner’s scalp glistened in the morning sun.

 “People ask me about America’s future all the time. But the real question is what’s America’s past? That’s what we really have to be on the lookout for. We need to look at our country and go back and say ‘woah’. That’s where we’re going as a country. And let me tell you, as a nation, we’re not even close to even thinking about our future. There are still problems! Some of my good friends were set on globalism but let me warn you we must protect the American Identity. We must eliminate the visa lottery, accept fewer refugees and put an end to radicalism!”

As Trump made his way to the presidential limo, he delighted in the state of the crowd… at the state of the American people.

A rather husky man with a sunburnt neck, devouring a septuplet layer burger in one hand and raising a Colt Python in the other, jumps about on the spot blasting shots into the air.

A white teenager with an M20-Super Boozoka takes aim at a group of elementary school students who were eager to learn about their president.

Praying Black Methodists on the fringes of the crowd are approached by men in white robes with pointy hats and guns aimed. They both share the same cross, although the men in robes have theirs on fire.

Police officers circle a black man who is disturbing the peace by being black. He raises his arms, but the officers mistake the gesture of submission and shoot him 22 times in the chest.

A group of men dancing with their rainbow flag seem to be inconvenienced by a man of brown skin shooting at them. Trump, excited with possibilities turns to Barry with a satisfied sigh.

“Larry, everything is fine here. But it’s just those pesky foreigners. We need to deal with them! I have plenty of Muslim friends who happen to agree with my new and upcoming Islam Registration Act!”

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