America had been the first to suggest it. Because nobody could say that shooting and screaming at each other over a video game was bad (they all thought it was very good), Game Night became a thing.
They did it every year starting in 2008, practically turning it into an international holiday. On that one special night, a fifth of the world would all fire up their game systems, pop in the most overplayed FPS they could find, and begin to shoot and scream at each other. In a way, it was poetic.
Since 2010, they decided to bring Switzerland into the game as a moderator of sorts. Every year since 2010, it’s ended the same way.
Map: Abandoned urban city.
Objective: Eliminate all enemies.
America: What the hell are these teams? Who rigged this? Everyone over there hates me.
There they were at either Tim Horton’s or Dunkin’ Donuts, talking about North Korea.
“He’s being so temperamental lately, you know?” America complained between munches. “He’s firing rockets, telling me to stop hanging out with South Korea, complaining to the U.N., calling me a terrorist…” At that, Canada muttered something under her breath that America mistook for a cough. “He’s kinda paranoid.”
“America,” she began gently, “during the 60s you would stay up all night sitting on your roof with a shotgun and a six-pack of root beer, playing Janet Greene and Tony Dolan records on repeat while you ‘surveyed’ and occasionally shot at the air after nervously mumbling something about ‘the Reds.’”
“Canada, if I hadn’t done that the Commies would’a won.”
These past five years have been a mix of brutal, tiresome trials and impossible victories. I don’t think either of us could have fully predicted this in 1945, nor can we pinpoint the exact day when we both knew this was inevitable. I think that from the start we both understood there would be sacrifice, but… well, maybe, in that way, we did know it was coming.
I’m going to tell you something that I haven’t told anyone else. I don’t want this. I know that you don’t want it either. We’re both victims,used as pawns for more powerful countries and forced to play by their rules. It’s been that way since 1910, and it will continue. That is, until someone breaks the cycle. In 1945 we both vowed to never let something like that happen to us again. For five years we struggled, and suffered, and persevered, and endured pain, and fought for glory. Now, in 1950, we’re both ready to do whatever is takes to preserve the dignity of our former nation. But no longer can we fight for Korea as brother and sister.
I didn’t write this letter to berate your ideologies or to scrutinize your relationship with the Westerner. You’ve already heard everything I have to say. I wrote this letter to tell you that whatever happens in the coming months will break us. Without a doubt, one of us will be destroyed. Everything that has been worked for since we rose up from the ashes of our former nation will crumble. But this will be true only for one of us. Like the cycle, one of us must break. But only one.
I am fully prepared to do whatever I have to in order to see my vision for Korea prevail. I will hold no bars, I will have no mercy. Until this is over, I am your adversary. If blood is the price for victory, one of us will pay in blood .
South, I said I didn’t want this and I don’t. But part of me does. That’s what scares me the most.
By the 21st century, North Korea had accepted three truths: 1) life is hard, 2) socialism isn’t working as well as originally planned, and 3) the United States is the source of all evil in this world.
2008 financial crisis? America. Global warming? America. Exploitation of developing countries? America. Tension in the Korean peninsula? America. Dubstep? America.
Tucked away on North’s bookshelf was a little black book, cuddled safely between the 8th volume of Kim Il-sung’s With the Century and the original script of The Flower Girl.‘TACTICAL MEMOIR OF DEAR LEADER’S MOST REVOLUTIONARY AND ANTI-IMPERIALIST FASHION IDEAS’ was written along the spine in gold lettering. But this was no memoir. It was a diary, and it contained hundreds of gripping accounts (written in invisible ink) of the DPRK’s struggles with both enemies and allies.
On days when he felt particularly bitter, he would return to older entries to relive his struggles. He swore it helped.
January 30, Juche 57 (1986)
On most morning I like to stroll past the USS Pueblo, just to stop and take a small moment to admire what I’ve accomplished. I do this especially when I need a good laugh, because it always reminds me of my favorite joke:
America: I throw a killer party. Food? Got it. Beer? Duh. Fireworks? Prepare to have your mind blown. This year, I’ve got this huge, five layer cake with little firecrackers that actually shoot off and start playing the National Anthem. On the bottom layer, there’s a John Hancock figure next to big, cursive letters that say ‘Suck it, Britain.’ At the top of the cake, I’ve got an animatronic Thomas Jefferson popping out with a M140. You press this button and he’ll start shooting off in a semicircle with Pez candy bullets. It’s totally gonna impress everyone.
Canada: Oh, I’m not much of a party girl… I treat myself to a nice breakfast in the morning, then I usually invite a few of my closest allies over and we throw a small party… Last year was a bit wild, though. I don’t remember much, but there is photo evidence of me trying to throw a moose at America.
America: I invite everyone over—the people who like me, the people who want to strangle me… I make sure to send England a special, hand-written invitation. I imagine him getting it in the mail and folding his arms, scoffing under his breath, ‘Wank’a. Bollocks.’ And you know that deep down inside he really wants to go, but he just stands there thinking, ‘God, I’m so alone. I’m alone and I cry myself to sleep at night.’ [whispers] He wants me back.
Canada: It really was embarrassing…. See, I have this special drink I came up with called The Atomic Lumberjack. One part vodka, one part Jager, one part Dr. Pepper, and two parts maple syrup. Add in a bit of Beaver Buzz and top it off with pop rocks. Well, last year, when it all happened, I’d had maybe three shots of the Lumberjack. The whole night was a blur, but I remember waking up on the roof with a trashcan on my head and a tattoo of Sarah Palin on my face. I have since removed the tattoo.
America: [concluding] Yeah, July 4th is a big day for me. It’s kinda the day I proved to everyone that I was way better than Europe.
Canada: I’m not going to be able to get any sleep Friday night, you know? I swear—[freezes as firecrackers go off in the distance] It’s starting. It’s two days before and it’s already starting. [reaches for an Atomic Lumberjack] Happy independence week, eh?
Stay tuned for more Independence Day hype this Friday as America looks back to fond memories of annoying the hell out of England.