The Day The President Fell

It started like most days that year.

Horrifically.

But as the day unfolded, and revelation followed bombshell, it felt like the sun had come out from a year long hibernation, spreading its heat and glow, and thawing everyone’s cockles just enough to feel a warmth in the world again.

No-one really knew why they had elected a man with a massive orange for a head as the President of the World. It had started off as a joke. Lots of hilarity was spent on working out how he was talking without a mouth. Anatomically speaking, there was no way he could be making sounds, until we all realised he really was talking out of his arse.

That accounted for the noxious odour that accompanied each and every one of his utterances.

No-one really knew how he had ended up with a massive orange for a head either. The rumour was it had something to do with a rusty, dusty old lamp and a series of wishes, though it had never been proven. He wouldn’t release his wish returns, no matter how hard he was pressed. Curious behaviour for an orange.

Every day the news was bleak. Some scandal or another, slowly unfolding like a slow motion origami flattening, followed some heinous outburst that made the last one seem like a fragrant fart.

And still the man with the massive orange for a head remained President of the World.

It didn’t seem to matter what happened, he just sat there, a massive orange atop a black suited moron. And we all watched on, horrified, unable to look away.

And then he fell.

It happened so quickly that the news channels weren’t actually sure it had happened at all. They kept going over and over it, moment by moment, calling on experts and pundits to analyse ever detail of the event. And still no-one quite believed what was happening. Even the most gleeful opponents had to take a few moments to process it, while the most fervent supporters clasped their chests and wailed about the inhumanity of it all.

It took a few days for the fog to lift, and things started to get back to normal. No-one really mentioned the man with the massive orange for a head again, except tangentially, and with a rueful smile.

We all remember the moment that the President fell though.

The way he stumbled on the bottom step.

The way he toppled over.

The way his head burst.

The way the juice exploded everywhere.

The way to pulp flew through the air.

It was glorious.

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