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The Legend of Lil' Kim

On the 17th of December, a man passed away. But he was no ordinary man. When he died, touching images of millions breaking down, unable to control their grief, were released. North Korea is mourning. Their “Dear Leader” - as they affectionately called him - is no more. Kim Jong-Il (that is I L, not second) AKA Lil Kim died from “stress” but that is still being speculated. Lil Kim has left his successor, Really Lil Kim, sometimes referred to in the media as Kim Jong-Un, to take over the glorious state of North Korea. In the first step of taking over from his legendary and now dead father, Kim Jong-Un was declared Supreme Commander of the Korean People's Army on Christmas Eve. Since the boy has no experience of politics - or for that matter, the army - he has been told this was a Christmas present from Santa.

No one is sure where Kim Jong-Il came from. The official statement of his birth is that he was born in a cabin beside sacred Mount Paektu in 1942, when a swallow appeared in the sky, signaling the bizarrely early arrival of spring. At the same time a double rainbow came into visual proximity while a new star materialised in the sky. The Soviets, being jealous of the awesomeness of North Korea's awesome newborn leader, tried discrediting the prophetic birth of Kim by saying he was born in a frosty village in Siberia. As if.

After that he disappeared. He reappeared in the 70s, in Malta (yes, that's a country) where he was learning English, among other things, from the Maltese Prime Minister. In 1994, he succeeded his father, the Eternal President, and was granted 200 official titles, each one representing one percent of his overwhelming awesomeness. Some examples are: “Guiding Star of the 21st Century”, “Glorious General Who Descended From Heaven” and “Highest Incarnation of the Revolutionary Comradely Love”. These are all official titles, mind you. That means all 200 were read out when announcing his arrival at official functions. Awesomeness.

The US tried hard to dent Kim's awesomeness by trying to deny him the luxury lifestyle he led, by introducing sanctions on pretty much anything Kim wanted. They took away his ability to buy yachts and Chanel No. 5. They took away his cognac, on which he spent roughly $800,000 yearly. Being the huge movie buff that he was, they also sanctioned TVs with screens larger than 29 inches. This forced him to watch his favourite movies such as Rambo and the entire collection of Elizabeth Taylor on a 28.5 inch TV. Those monsters.

He was passionate about film. He even went to the trouble of kidnapping… I mean, convincing in an aggressive manner, the country's best filmmaker and his actress wife to make a socialist version of Godzilla, his favourite movie of all time because he could relate to the majestic creature and would often call himself Kimzilla before letting out a roar, which would be met with much applause from his minions… I mean, comrades.

He was a man who was talented at virtually everything. He once played a round of golf with 11 holes in one. He invented a wonder food which consisted of meat between two pieces of bread. According to the official state media, when he died, the skies above Mount Paektu took on a mysterious red hue and the unbreakable sheet of ice in the soul of the mystical volcano shattered with a deafening roar. But he's up in the afterlife now, hanging out with other awesome leaders like Muammar Gaddafi.

As I write this in mourning of the loss of this wonderfully awesome individual, the skies outside my window radiate with an awesome golden light which forms his silhouette on the walls, which crack under the pressure of the awesomeness. We'll miss you, Dear Leader.

By Bareesh

Obituary for My Winged Adversary

I swoop down.

My wings rattle the wind. They beat fast but effortlessly, sending vibrations through the air. Through my body as well.

I see a hand coming at me.

It feels like hours. Humans are so slow. Look how long they take just to move their hand from there to here. I can see almost every bit of its movement. I can even feel the wind pressure changing around me as another hand comes from behind. I don't even have to look behind me to see it coming. I have infinite time to dodge.

I swerve sideways, curling up my wings by just the right amount.

SLAP! The hands make a loud noise. The human rubs them against each other, as if he wants to squish my tiny self. Hah! Then he peeks inside, hoping to see the dead body. I watch in amusement as the look on his eyes changes from glee to anguish and finally to anger. I laugh silently. Then I duck easily as he attempts at my life again. This time he tries with one hand, grasping at me. Hah! He can't even catch me with both hands, what can he do when he takes the other out of the equation? The arrogance! And such a foul mouth!

I enjoy myself a bit more as I circle his right ear. The sound must be annoying, as the human lets off a huge grunt and brings his hand heavily on the place I had occupied a hundred years ago. He misses me by a great distance. No, not distance. Time.

I have all the time in the world.

He howls in great distress; bares his teeth, shouts obscenities at me. They mean nothing to me. I only need a few elements in his blood. For the eggs. For my eggs. I see his bare neck. I have always liked the blood at that place. It has the slightest pungent taste which makes it taste so good, second to only that in the arms. The skin is easier to pierce than other parts of the body, if you can find the right spot.

I dive down sensing my chance as the man falls asleep. My wings fold in as I accelerate; my head and back straight as an arrow for the perfect piercing. The sweet smell of the blood makes all my senses go awry. Just as I am about to suck the blood, I am dealt with a crashing blow. I don't die, though. It lands just beside me, clipping only one of my six legs. I fly away. I am scared for the first time.

I have found my worthy adversary, one who thrives in deceit and darkness. Victory will be sweet. Sweeter will be the sight of the larva that will come out of the eggs I shall lay.

I fly out of his reach for a few minutes, bidding my time, planning my next move. I see another of my winged friends failing to do that. I see him getting smashed to death. This just escalates the whole thing to a new dimension. I smile to myself. This is getting exciting.

I land on the greenish artery on his left arm. I dip my stinger through a pore. Oh, it smells so good! I suck in the blood. Holy mother above! This is too sweet. The blood fills my belly. I am getting heavy. Dizzy... unconscious...


“Hey, look at this mosquito on my arm.”
“Wow, look at how much blood it drank. What is it? A vampire?”
“It does not sparkle, man.”
“Heh, true that. Kill it?”

By Jawad



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