A Christmas Carol
For the modern age. What the Dickens?
Part One: Complete Covfefe
The President sat on the crapper, baggy trousers around his ankles. He was admiring a glittering toilet roll holder which had been coated in gold at his request. Despite the only furniture being a toilet and a sink, the room was the size of a pickleball court.
Snowflakes whirled beyond the window, settling on the ground and roofs in drifts. Today it was a white house on a white land.
He wondered about changing snow to red. That would look cool. The view, the map, the world, everything covered in red under US rule.
The Secretary of Defence knocked on the door. “Mister President! So glad I found you!” he called, voice muffled by oak. “Urgent business!”
“Okay, okay, come in. Nothing you haven’t seen before, Heggy.”
The Secretary bustled in, arms full of sheaves of paper. They often spilled across the floor, requiring him to pick them up and try to put them back in order.
“Happy Christmas, your crapulence …” he muttered, in a fluster. “I mean corpulence …” more papers picked up. “No, no, I mean opulence.”
“Cut it with your fancy shmansy words,” said the Pres. “You know I only have third grade reading levels. You can just refer to me as President Fart.”
“That sounds disrespectful.”
“But it’s my name! I want it on every building, every channel! The Donald Duckfart Institute of Peace! The Fart Health Clinic! The Fart Gas Refinery! Breikfart News! Fart Fart Fart! I want to see and hear a Fart everywhere around the world!”
“And everyone should like you. You’re so lovely. Like a wobbly orange Santa on his throne! Santa Fanta!”
“Yes! Thank you for your attention to this matter! Make a note. Get everyone’s social media username thingies and check everything they have ever said about me or Murica for the last ten years. Biden started doing that, so we can blame it on the Demowhatsits.”
“Such a good idea! I’m writing it down! It’s the Democrats’ turn to be in charge for a bit next time anyway, as long as they promise to keep working for the ultra rich.” Scribble scribble. “What shall we do with the usernames once we’ve collected them?”
“See what they say about me. Oh, and make people give the last five years of phone numbers they have had. And every number they have rung or texted. And … Oh yes, all the email addresses they’ve used for the last ten years. And every address they have emailed. And every email sent. We’ll root out the terrorists … socialists … whateverists. And if they won’t give all that info, sic ICE on them and make them disappear into Guanotanamo or an ICE torture camp, or send them to an Israeli rape dungeon or something.”
“Is this check just for people visiting our country GOD BLESS AMERICA?”
“Sure, but …” The Pres scratched his nuts. “Why not make it for everyone? Everyone in the USA. Check ’em all out! This is one of my brilliant ideas, that even, like, professors and stuff would say it is the most brilliant thing they’ve ever seen.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“And then do a Tik Tok on any sites that say bad things about me.”
“Kind of like China does with its social scores?”
“Well, yes, but it’s bad when they do it. Good when we do! Write that down.”
“Ooh, yes, Sir, so good! So masterful!”
The president sniffed his fingers and looked momentarily puzzled. “Oh heck, go further. Make it everyone in the world. Check them all out! We have Echelon and all the other spy systems in every country. And if we don’t like what we see, apply sanctions, freeze them from banks and email and … Alexa … and treat them like we do judges from the International Criminal Court! I’m not having anyone investigate war crimes when it’s us or Israel doin’ the war crimin’. That would be treason. He who saves his country does not violate any law.”
“Oh, so heroic!” The Secretary scribbled notes, dropping them half the time.
“Clumsy today, Heggy.”
“Yes, because of the news …”
“Why not use some AI gadgety thing for minuting my pronouncements?”
“You banned me from electronic devices after my Signal debacle. But, Sir, I just want to say how everything in here looks so good now you have had it sprayed gold! Even the fruit bowls!”
“All thanks to US citizens who love me. So good! It’s my Christmas present from them. They love donating their taxes for my refurbishments, rather than for silly stuff like free healthcare, transport, infrastructure and basic services.”
“After all, you’re the King!” The Secretary dropped more papers in his excitement.
“No, not the King,” Fart said, with gravitas. “America won’t allow kings.” He wiped his bottom, trying to gather up all the slimy slop. “I am the Emperor! King sounds too small, like the snotties from Englandshire.” Fart scratched his testes again, and gave them another experimental sniff. He held out his fingers. “Smell like cheese to you?”
The Secretary knelt and sniffed the tips ecstatically. “No, Sir. Smells like power! We should bottle it. ‘Fart in a Bottle.’”
“I like that. And I’m glad you appreciate my redecorating. I love gold because it’s –”
“The orange of your skin?”
“No, because it’s classy. Nonce Andy told me that at one of the Mar-a-Lago parties. Remembered his limey words ever since.”
“His slimy words?”
“Them too. Slipperier than an eel that guy. Everyone in his country knows what he is and he still gets to live in a palace! Just like me! Once I finish the renovations, anyways. Then it will be a palace. Anyway, why are you disturbing crapper time? You know not to hassle me about Pres stuff before third brunch. Especially at Christmas.”
“Something’s come up. We’re going to have to … cancel your golf.” Secretary Man said the last few words more quietly.
“What? I’ve only played fifteen times this week!”
“It’s something big.”
“Oh no.” Fart shook his head, jowls wobbling. “I told you all to bury the Epstein stuff, fill the press with other things. Wars and such.” He licked his palm and stroked the orange combover across the bald bits of his head. “Not that I should have to. Nothing wrong with admiring a beautiful girl or three. Grabbing them by the pussy. I mean, the girls were all willing, and they were teenagers, give or take a few years. All happy. Drunk or drugs – all free! They didn’t complain. Not at the time, anyway.”
“Well, we all get accused of being a bit rapey in high spirits.”
“Yes, you’ve had your own problems.”
“Which would have been more cheaply fixed if I could have had the secret service tidying up loose ends with ‘suicides’.”
“Exactly! The same as the Winsah crownies have always done. They did an Epstein on Giuffre, but the idiots should have done it before giving her the bribe, they’d have saved themselves millions of their toy money! Then again, it’s the public that pay, not them, so who cares? And Nonce Andy’s listened to my advice. We just have to be more careful with our private parties nowadays so none of this ever happens again. I’m tired of deleting people from my gold contacts. Gary Glitter, Rolf Harris, Jimmy Saville. All such great white entertainers. The world’s gone Woke.”
“But no, this emergency is nothing to do with Epstein, Sir. Or Nonce Andy. It’s a bit more Defencey than that.”
“Oh, I know. It’s Israel again, isn’t it? Little Benjy, saying he’ll release all the videos if we don’t give him more mil-tech and ‘aid’. It really is a ‘special relationship’, isn’t it?” Fart chuckled. “The only nation in the world allowed to bribe US politicians, and get kickbacks in money and weapons for a win-win. He’s such a sneaky fuck! I love him, always give his ears a tug when he’s putting on one of his special VIP affairs for visiting dignitaries, giving us tours of the torture camps before he brings in the girls.”
“Screw those who say it isn’t patriotic to put Israel first!” The Secretary’s arm snapped upwards, but he quickly pulled it down (and bent to pick up all the paperwork he’d dropped in the process).
“Exactly! I know all about patriotism!” Fart stood, trousers still around his ankles, shirt flaps covering his mushroom. “US patriotism is money and power, and making sure only the right people have it, and the wrong people do what they’re told.” He sat down again, before more crap dribbled down his cellulite legs.
“How much did the Israel lobby give you?” asked his Secretary.
Fart counted on his pudgy fingers. “Over two hundred and thirty million AIPAC dollars acknowledged,” he said, eventually.
“So, triple that in reality? Ooh, more than Biden! As a fanatical Christian Zionist, I applaud you, Sir!”
“They get it back with spades. I’ve given Israel over fourteen billion dollars in exchange. They know bribery is a wise investment.”
“And not just the money. I know about the ‘Make Gaza Beautiful Again’ scheme you and Rube have been cooking up with the Israelis!”
“I told Benjy ‘Hurry up and get it done!’ He just needs to finish off the Palestinians and steal their land for my luxury Fart Resort Gaza Riviera. I mean, gotta tell the truth here, Israel’s so incompetent that it’s been seventy-five years since we gave them Palestine and set them up as our military base, and they still haven’t finished their genocide! Taking almost as long as it took us to slaughter the injuns and steal everything from them! But I want the oil. Go on, Heggy, send them some more bombs and drones, those fun new ones that make people go squishy squishy.”
“It’s true, the generals do get a hard-on to test the new gear. Palestinians make great field tests. I loved the drone that sounds like a crying baby to lure people out, then shoots them! Whoever thought of that one should get a payrise. But the emergency is not Israel, Sir. Not this time. No Sir, it is … seems to be … aliens.”
“Get ICE on it! Don’t bother me with stuff like that. The only good immigrant is the foreign trophy wife who keeps her mouth shut. Just keep rounding them up, even the ones who say they’re citizens. They’re easy to spot, they look funny! Eat dogs or whatever. They don’t have white or orange skin like good folks do. You know what they say. If they’re brown, flush them down!”
“No no no, Sir. These are actual extra-terrestrial aliens! They have huge ships hovering over capital cities all around the world. Look, here’s a surveillance photo.” The Secretary held one out.
“That’s a dick-pic, Heggy.”
“Sorry, Sir. It really is difficult keeping track of things without a mobile phone. No, this one.”
“Mmm. Yep, just like Independence Day. Did they say what they want?”
“World peace, Sir.”
“Typical. Aliens gone woke. Can we nuke them?”
“Sir, nukes don’t work like that. As I said, they are above capital cities.”
“Mini nukes?”
“No.”
“Woke gone mad! We done it before and it was all fine. Just ask Hiroshima and Nagasaki! No one beatin’ us up over a few nukes.” He picked at his nose. “’Course, if they did, we’d nuke ’em,” he muttered.
“I am Defence Secretary so you have to trust me on this. The blast and radiation above DC would harm us, because of the magic fire and the … erm … brimstone … that goes into our bombs. It would set back progress on your new Whitehouse mini-golf course.”
“What about the planes and stuff? Shooty bangs like Top Gun? Just blow them up like a Venezuelan fishing boat. Or steal their ship as if it’s a Venezuelan oil tanker! No one would dare call it piracy if we do it. We’ll just say they were narco terrorists, whatever that means. Regime change or whatever. Spreading democracy! You know the drill.”
“It won’t work. We’ve already sent fighters in to buzz them, Sir, since I knew you’d approve. The planes just crashed.”
“Crashed? What is the point of having more than nine hundred military bases in or around every country in the world, and eighteen hundred nuclear warheads that can destroy the planet infinite times over, and having an annual budget of over three trillion dollars for death if you can’t even shoot down a snowflake UFO?” He stood, then wobbled around, careful not to trip over his panties. “It makes no sense that they’re here for world peace, anyway. That’s my job. I got the cute Fifa Peace Award to prove it. I did peace in Africa!”
His Secretary followed him around, dabbing the back of the President’s legs with toilet paper, to blot up the worst of the liqui-shit. Unfortunately the toilet paper and government papers got mixed up, and soon formed slippery brown crimples which fell like browny-yellowy-orange snowballs. “Though it should be noted you bombed Somalia more times in the last twelve months than Biden and Obama did in twelve years …” Heggy said, as he shuffled along on his knees.
“I made peace in the Middle East!” Fart shouted.
“Again, we’ve been bombing Iran and Yemen and –”
“Shut your damn mouth, Heggy. We blow stuff up for peace every goddamn day! I am the President of Peace!”
President Fart turned around, stood proud. The chick pea was at his Secretary’s eye level, but this time his Secretary stood. No time for fun.
“Of course, Sir. Well, these aliens want to speak to all the world leaders, at the same time, and for it to be live televised. They promise great rewards to humanity. We don’t want to risk information going to other nations. Can’t have anyone else getting an advantage over us.”
“Damn right. Global democracy means US in charge! Kiss the rod! Kiss the golden rod!” Fart thrust his hips but couldn’t see past the rolls of tummy fat. Didn’t matter, he knew it was down there somewhere. “I’m the most successful person ever to be President, by far. Nobody’s ever been more successful than me. I’m the most successful person ever.”
“And all the vassal states are on the line wanting to speak to you, Sir,” said his secretary, washing his hands under the gold tap. “We got the British Amazon Prime Minister first in the queue.”
“Oh, not him. Keira Stammer takes the fun out of everything. I don’t like him.”
“Nobody likes him, Sir. Even his own party hate him. Even his wife gets more clothes and attention from other millionaire perverts than she does from him.”
“I was sick of him last week, whining about how he brought in age verification laws and now can’t access porn because the AI says his selfie isn’t human.”
“Well, like all the other client-baby premiers, he wants to know what your commands are.”
The Pres sighed. “Right. We’ll listen to these aliens then.” He bent forward but realised the roll was bare after his Secretary’s ministrations. “Oh no, I’ve run out of quad-quilted gold-flake poopy paper. Go and get me some from the East Wing.”
“But they only have paper that’s got the Stars and Stripes on. Some think it’s disrespectful.”
“It’s not like I’m using the real flag.” President Fart pulled up his trousers. The reinforced diapers would work just as well. “Only did that once.” The Secretary fastened Fart’s belt for him. “Or twice,” President Fart continued. “I was really desperate. I believe in Pride! I want to have a big pride festival. We can Photoshop crowds in like we did for all my inaugurations.”
“Careful what you say, Sir. Pride means something else amongst your enemies.”
“What losers. Woke gone mad!”
A robin had been peeping in through the window, its orange breast aglow. It fluttered away.
Part Two: Utter Horror
People gathered in every nation. Millions of them. In some countries they were gazing up at the ember sunset skies of the winter solstice. In others, at blue skies and a burning sun. And in yet others, such as England, people squinted up at grey clouds and piddling rain.
From above it must have resembled a sea of human particles clogging every pavement, every road, every open concrete space.
Some faces were filled with hope. Some with fear. Some with dreams of ecstatic revelation.
The crowds were always centred around the magic point below one of the hovering alien craft. A point that – regardless of nation – was always filled with red carpets and seats for human dignitaries. Huge screens existed to show their haggard faces and make them look important.
Edinburgh to Antananarivo. Paris to Palikir. Cardiff to Copenhagen. Buenos Aires to Beijing. Thimphu to Tokyo. Dublin to Dhaka. It was the same, regardless of language spoken.
The craft were all similar, but not identical. Some were a mile long, some half that. Dark grey pearlescent alloys which shimmered when the light caught their surfaces as some angles, like oil on tarmac. Shapes like leftover electrical components enlarged and bolted on to a central oval, giving them an element of mystery, of individuality, of ramshackle solidity.
And an air of trepidation settled on the crowds as the time of The Communication approached, shown as countdowns on high-definition displays. A moment picked by the Aliens and translated into local time for each place. The moment would be the same across the globe. A moment of Revelation.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
People whispered the numbers in their native tongues.
Seven.
Six.
If you could monitor everyone’s heart rates as they gazed up at the mysterious craft, the numbers would have increased.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Some people reached out to their neighbours and held their hands.
Two.
One.
A noise like a horn, which reverberated through bones and buildings alike, causing both to flinch. A soul-shaking portentous air blast.
It did not repeat, and its echoes died away.
Then something lowered from below each craft. A translucent canister ten metres high, which swirled inside with luminescent smoke, casting purple and blue hues across the undersides of the craft, and the crowds below them. The canisters stayed attached, and halted with a hiss.
Then words boomed from each. The words were in the main language spoken by the people of the nation below. Mauritian Creole in Port Louis. Norwegian in Oslo. Italian in Rome. Words without accents, though. A clarity of consonants and vowels which tinkled like water down a soul’s stream.
“Welcome to you,” said the Words, in the beginning.
“We note some of your premiers are trying to communicate with us. We ignore these individuals. Their voices are rendered silent from your ears. From this recording. You humans who look up to us now. You who watch us from elsewhere. Our Words are for you all. Today we are the tongue and lips, not the ears.
“We chose this time. Your calendars loop around soon, an arbitrary event which you perceive as significance. We wish to make this communication in ways that you can comprehend, both in literalness and in symbolism.
“Likeways, this date has been chosen significantly for some of you of the Christianity belief system. We know many of you worship Jesus, the Palestinian Semitic Arab from Bethlehem, even as you humans destroy the nation from which he came. We know that this date was stolen from older belief systems. We know of its artificial importance to some of you, and act according to your abundant superstitions.
“We know of Buddhism, and Sikh, and Muslim, and Hindu, and Pagan, and can see into the belief systems of all humans. And those of you who follow the Science belief system, you too are considered in all this, as all humanity is included.
“You may wonder why we do not show our corporeal selves to you. It is apologising. Humans are visual and make assumptions based on visual. You do not know us but would match our forms to others you know or imagine, and that would lead to judgement based on fantasy. So, we apologise, but now is not the time for us to reveal our colour and form to your retinas.
“But we come to you here because you are on the precipice. You have all walked a path to a metaphor cliff edge, and keep walking. You follow the blind. But we see the fall. And if it was only you who fell, it would be one thing. But you bring all life with you, and it must not all fall just because you have put ropes around its neck.
“So we bring you our gift. Five Precepts.
“They are known by all true religious people. They have been known by all true belief system elements for thousands of years, but ignored by the many.
“These Precepts are an approximation that will bring true peace to Earth and happiness, even though many of you can not yet see why. If you are still closed in soul minds, it will be a hard understanding. But in time, as you understand reasons, as your united culture changes, it will ripple out to other choices All will finally understand. All will receive contentment and boundless happiness. That is fruit from the Precepts.
“We present them to you now.
“Precept The First: War Is Crime. It is the most damaging of the things you do. And thus, war will be illegal everywhere. This is easy to understand. This must not be twisted. All know what it means. I give examples only for illustration. No nation may send soldiers beyond its borders, ever. No nation may fire weapons beyond its borders, ever. No nation may have military bases beyond its borders, ever. This is simple. This is common sense.
“I and We can see your leaders try to argue about this already.
“It can not be argued with.
“It is not a request.
“When you try to break this Precept – as some of you will, to test us with your disbelief – the weapons will fail, and death will follow. The evil ones who give the commands will die. Up to the highest level. And the evil ones who tried to follow their commands will die. For without those enacting the crimes, there would be no crimes. This is fair. Within a week you will all follow this Precept, and none will break it. We see all, and we can modify your genomic existence. What you see as gods, we see as trivial. Take it as you wish.
“Precept The Second: Life Is Not Possession. Humans are mammals. Humans are animals. Humans must stop eating other animals. Stop abusing other animals. There is plant abundance for sustenance. Simple implications. You must not exploit other animals. Must not hunt, torture, mistreat, or sell life. To the best of your ability.
“Cow is animal. Fish is animal. Snake is animal. Wasp is animal.
“Plants may be eaten, may be used. But with respect.
“If anything, see your role as protective. Guardianship. For the planet and the life upon it does not belong to you: you belong to the planet.
“Many of the precepts can be reformulated to simple concepts, and this is among them. You may consider it thus:
“Tread lightly on the earth. Take only memories, leave only footprints, kill nothing but time.
“It is simple.
“It is enforced. In many ways. Sometimes if you break the Precept you will be poisoned. Other times, all you eat will taste of defecation, which will imbue you mouth and senses. Other times the torments you cause will be your experience in dreams for night after night. You will be hunted in them. You will be crying and mewling in an abbatoir. You will be skinned.
“You will soon learn: to become the suffering of another is to finally understand the suffering of another.
“We see human communication. Across the globe.
“Some of you say we will be removing your choice. Your free will.
“Yes.
“Over thousands of years, the majority of you have not used free will for good. So we concur. Affirm. We are removing it.
“What is abused, can not be deserved.
“Precept The Third: Life Within Means. This goes back to treading lightly.
“Humans increase in numbers beyond everything sustainable. Population growing and growing. You know it is out of control and makes every other problem worse, yet you do nothing about it. Even though it is one of the easiest issues to fix. With discussion and policies humans could have solved this centuries ago.
“Well, now you must control it. The human population should be less than a hundredth of what it is today. Then there is enough land and resources for you all. And for all other life.
“This must be planned. You shouldn’t be rewarding people for having children. You shouldn’t be ignoring the consequences of your actions. Every parent is responsible for every action of their children. And their children’s children, and the children of those. Every harm and cost down through time is upon the original parent’s head. When you finally see this, you will understand, and you will change.
“We and I have methods for this. But we hope your choice and your policies will find the peaceful ways from wisdom.
“Precept The Fourth: Equality. Everyone can contribute. Everyone can receive.
“I and We might say inequality should not exist. You are born with nothing but love. You should tread lightly. You die leaving only the good thoughts of those who respected you.
“No one should have more resources than anyone else. You currently use a money system. It is broken. All can see that. So you fix it.
“Everyone will earn the same. Whatever you do.
“Again, people are asking. ‘What about doctors? Will they earn the same as a cleaner?’
“Yes. Everyone will earn the same.
“People are asking. ‘What about politicians and lawyers? Will they earn the same as a nurse?’
“Yes. Everyone will earn the same.
“It can not be more simple than that statement, so your questions can cease.
“And what people own now, is distributed. All shall own. All shall be equal. There will be no more rich people. Except those rich in love.
“Money will then not be a motivation.
“And one day you will become civilised, and will not have money at all. You will change your culture towards one based on service and self-fulfillment, working for the good of all and the planet. Working for life, not to take it. Life based on the accumulation of wisdom and love, not on the accumulation of material goods.
“Your wise ones have always known this. But you have let your unwise ones rule.
“That changes today. And whosoever refuses to release their grasp on materiality, will have their fingers broken off.
“Precept The Fifth: Justice From The Past.
“Many evils have been done. But there is no statute of limitations on evil. And reparations must be made, with full wisdom. This will heal many traumas in your species. This will make a future possible.
“But for your purposes, we will make it simple to within your clear historical record. We choose the year 1500. Injustices since then must be rectified.
“We give an example. What you call America. Most who live there now are descendants of the criminals who stole the land from the indigenous people. Native Americans were the people of the land for tens of thousands of years. It is relatively recently that it was stolen from them, and what happened in 1520 onwards can be fixed.
“And so, the whole land of America and everything in it is to be given back to the Native Americans and their descendants.
“We see you humans already in uproar about this, but that is only because you are so unused to justice.
“The government of the America nation must be full Native Americans. They will decide what will happen to every person who lives in America today, based on their past. Those who were good, who regretted their colonising ancestor past, who fought for justice, who is willing to change their life: they may be allowed to stay, to be part of the Nation. Those who were evil, who resisted, who accumulated greed on greed, who benefitted from what their ancestors stole, who justified those evils: they will pay a heavy price.
“The Native Americans will rewrite the laws. Will change their governance. May dismantle everything which has no place. They may live as they wish, on their land.
“We see worry on the ministers of many nations. Yes, that is correct. America is just an example.
“Australia is a nation stolen from indigenous people, too. As with America, so with Australia. The land must be fully returned to Aboriginal Australians. They can decide what to do with the descendants of the white settlers who stole it from them from 1788 onwards. That is a simple record.
“You all know the history. You will give New Zealand back to the Māori people. Canada to the indigenous peoples. And you will fix all the other examples of settler colonisation too, since you never paid attention to justice before, and it continues. You will restore Palestine to the Palestinians and dismantle the white colony called Israel.
“Those across your world who benefitted from any genocide of the past or present will find that time was no escape from evil.
“We will help. We have systems and data.
“The birth of anything can be a trial. One of pain. One of blood.
“We will help.
“We will midwife the return of what you call Eden. The Golden Age.
“These are your Five Precepts.
“Peace and justice will follow.
“We are here now, and the Word is with us. We will help.”
The voices faded out, for now.
Part Three: Afterword
President Fart and all the others on the raised red-carpet platforms looked up.
“That sucks,” said the President of Nothing.
But others knew a blessing when they saw it.
Bright blessings, and peace on Earth to all.
PS I’m also an author. You can buy my books, or subscribe to my newsletter. I would be grateful for either. :-)
An epic tale for this age. Spot on.