A continuation of this story.
Turns out, the Abominable American wasn’t that hard to outrun. He was pretty slow due to his size, and also kind of lazy. He gave up chase five minutes in, after which he retreated to his lair to partake in material sin and filthiness.
Now that they were safe from danger, Canada asked, “So, what’re you guy doin’ all the way out here?”
“We decided that we’re too good for everyone else,” North Korea explained. “Which is true, in my case.”
“We don’t fit in with the bourgeoisie scum,” Cuba said. “The North Pole is an inherently corrupt system. I’ve heard rumors that Santa is a fascist.”
Canada gasped. “That can’t be true!” She turned back to the snowy canvas ahead. “Well, if you want to find your, uh, comrades, I know exactly where they are. They set up shop on the Island of Misfits. It’s a solitary little place just out beyond that ocean you see ahead.”
North Korea asked, “And China will be there?”
Cuba softly jabbed him with her elbow. “You miss him?”
“No, but he does owe me like two weeks worth of allowance.”
Traversing the ocean was easy in Canada’s raft. After the sun had dipped beneath the waves, North Korea’s nose guided them toward a flickering glow in the distance. When they landed on the island, they saw two sad looking fellas gathered around a little campfire.
North Korea stepped out of the raft and approached them cautiously. “Hello?”
One of them, Vietnam, turned her head. “Well, if it isn’t North Korea.” A pause. “Your nose still looks huge.”
Laos was heating soup over the fire. He stole a glance at North Korea. “Oh, she’s right.”
Canada had been slowly scooting away since they landed. “Sooo, I’m just gonna go inside and have some cocoa with Finland or something while you pals catch up. Try not to unleash any Communist Discourse™ while I’m gone, okay? You know what happened last time.”
Five Minutes Later
Cuba threw her arms into the air. “State capitalism isn’t a real thing! It’s a contradiction!”
Vietnam’s ponytail swished with the angry bobs of her head. “What I do not understand is why you accuse me of betraying the Left. I operate on a five-year plan. Five-year plans are one of the first things you’ll find in the Communist Beginner’s Handbook.”
Laos stopped lapping up the soup to make a contribution. “The revolution doesn’t start with five-year plans, it starts with the expulsion of imperialist filth. Only then can we be free to abolish the state–”
North Korea scoffed. “Why the hell would you want to abolish the state? Ridiculous. Who would assume the role of fatherly leader and protect the people from foreign invaders?”
“It doesn’t have to be about abolishing all forms of institution,” Cuba clarified, “just coercive government.”
“If a government is truly good,” North Korea argued, “service to it will be voluntary and not coercive. See my country, for example”
“Besides, if you arm civilians–”
He laughed. “Regular people with guns! Imagine that!”
Vietnam shook her head. “North Korea, your economy is the size of a dumpster and you trouble everyone around you. Being a menace isn’t helping our cause–not if all it does is make the West pile more and more sanctions on you. You warped Marxism-Leninism into some outlandish, racist ideology that is doing nothing for you.”
North Korea jumped up. His words came out in angry puffs of air against the night chill. “Except allow me to outlive the Soviet Union! You’re welcome, assholes! You’re welcome for developing nuclear weapons and giving the rest of the world hope that they too can protect themselves against warmongers! You’re welcome for bitch-slapping imperialism in the face and telling it, ‘Not today!’ You know what? Ho Chi Minh was an idiot. Mao was an idiot. Castro was–a very respectable man, rest in peace. And Laos? Nobody even knows you’re a country!”
And he stormed off, leaving the others to sit there frazzled.
After the fight, North Korea realized something. He realized that his Korean-ness was too pure, that his jucheism was too perfect. The others were right; he was not like them because he was better than them.
Seeing isolation as the only way to protect his moral, ideological, and physical superiority, he ran away the next morning–but not before telling everyone that he was going to run away in hopes that they’d care enough to try to stop him.
“You do you,” Laos said in an unusual gesture of encouragement.
Vietnam was nonplussed. “Have fun.”
“Before you leave,” Cuba said, “I just want to tell you something.” She locked eyes with him. “I’ve always thought your nose–and other parts of your body–were beautiful.”
North Korea cocked his head to the side cracked an uncomfortable smile. “Thank you.” And then he remembered. “Wait. Before I go, does anyone know where China is?”
“Oh, him?” There was almost a shrug in Laos’s voice. “He was captured by the Abominable American last week.”
North Korea’s mind raced. His biggest source of foreign aid could be gone forever. Who will fund his malfunctioning toys program now? The thought of losing money–er, China–was too much to bear.
He turned to Cuba. “I have to save him and kill that monster.”
“I’m going to help.”
“Because he’s your father, and you’re my friend.”
“Actually, he’s not my father. Russia was not impregnated by man, but by Stalinism.”
“Yoohoo!” Canada popped out from behind them. “I heard you were going off to try and kill my brother? That’s cool. I’ll come help. He used to be a nice guy until he got that awful disease and became a grotesque monster. Here, I’ll take you to his mancave.”
And so the three of them set out once again, traversing back across the ocean and through the tundra to confront the dreaded superpower.
America lived in a treacherous cave deep in the mountain side. They’d followed a thick trail of fresh blood all the way there–oh, wait. That was just Code Red Mtn Dew.
Anyway, when they arrived they could hear a conversation in the form of echoes bouncing off the cold, rock walls covered in Redskins posters.
“No, I’m not going to close my bases in the South China Sea.”
“I don’t care. You can tweet about expanding your nuclear arsenal all you want. I will not be intimated by an idiot. Or anything. Because I’m China, and nothing scares me–except economic stagnation, but I have already made peace with that.”
A frosty breath escaped North Korea’s lips. “He’s still alive.”
Cuba asked, “What are we going to do?”
“I’ll distract my brother while you guys bust China out,” Canada said from behind them.
Cuba looked back to see Canada fastening climbing gear around her waist. “Are you going to be okay?”
Cuba put a hand on her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, you’ll always be my favorite America.”
“Oh, just get in there and do something heroic.”
North Korea began inching forward when Cuba stopped him. “Wait, maybe we should rally, or something.”
“That argument we had at the Island? It made me realize that although we believe and practice different things, we’re still all fighting the same evils. That counts for something, right?”
“That’s right, comrade.”
“Okay, so, on three, we say, ‘For socialism!’ and then save China. Ready? One… two… for soci–“
“FOR JUCHE!” And North Korea charged in.
Something heroic they indeed did do. Canada lead America away from China’s icy prison cell with a plate of freshly cooked bacon–then tried to wrestle a pack of hungry huskies off said plate of bacon. She did not think this plan through.
Meanwhile, North Korea and Cuba navigated through piles of empty Dorito bags, beer bottles, and pool balls (a pool table was nowhere to be seen) and made it to China. With pickaxes they hacked away at the icicles keeping him behind bars.
China’s eyes widened when he saw them. “North Korea? Cuba? This is… unexpected.”
“Well,” North Korea said, “I’m what you’d call… unpredictable.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I was afraid I’d freeze to death. Or worse, spend another hour with that thing.”
Just as China was freed, they heard a frantic squirrel crying for help. Wait, that was just Canada.
She’d managed to scale her brother as if he were a mountain and now she was clinging on for dear life as he stumbled around the dogs attacking him for the bacon. Unfortunately, he stumbled too close to the edge of the cliff. The dogs began yelping, as if pleading Canada to jump off. But it was too late–her rope was tangled in America’s chest hair. Before the others could do anything to help, she and the Abominable toppled over the side of the mountain. “Oh, nuts,” were her final words.
The communists ran to the edge and peered down. There was nothing there but fog and snow. Cuba turned to the huskies who were looking at them expectantly. She rested a hand on her hip.
“Who’s ready to go back to the North Pole and topple the bourgeoisie?”
Eight tails wagged excitedly.
Elves, reindeer, and the Clauses all gathered around the big Christmas tree moments before Santa would take off to spread joy and cheer throughout the world. He was just about to call for sparkling cider toast when the door flew violently open and a gush of cold air swept through the hall. Elves screamed, shrieked, and clung to one another as they were blown back.
Cuba’s voice echoed throughout the hall. “Knock, knock, capitalist pig!” When the snow cleared, she and North Korea were standing in the doorway with pickaxes and hammers clenched tightly in their adamant fists.
“Oh, North Korea!” Santa tossed his cider glass aside and it accidentally clocked Blitzen in the head, knocking him out cold. “I’m so glad you’re here! See, there’s this terrible storm, and I won’t be able to deliver presents without your nose–“
“Shut up.” North Korea stormed up to Santa’s throne. “I know your agenda, big guy, and I’m here to tell you that tonight we’re seizing the means of production and shutting you down!”
Santa sneered.”Why, you little, third world assclown. How dare you defy my authority! I am Santa Clause, and I am eternal! You are a pathetic screwball that won’t even be around by next Christmas, if the Abominable American has anything to do with it!”
Everyone gasped. How could their beloved Santa be in cahoots with a monster? It wasn’t right!
“Guess what?” North Korea lowered his voice so it sounded deep and cool. “He’s dead.”
Santa stumbled backward. “No! Impossible! My perfect orange monster can’t be gone!”
Cuba smirked. “Oh, Santa?” She got a running start, sprinting down the velvet red carpet leading to Kris Kringle’s throne. She leapt into the air, higher than even the top of the massive Christmas tree, and dove down on him, leg extended straight out.
Time slowed as she descended upon him like an angel of war. In fact, it slowed just enough for her to threaten him with an amazing two-liner. “You know what these boots are made for? Stomping fascists.” With a crack, Santa lost his dignity, his power, and a functioning jaw.
North Korea stood before the throne and turned to the crowd of dazzled Christmas folk.
“On this day, I rename the North Pole the Democratic People’s Republic of… Snow! And I proclaim this state in the name of…” He threw his fist into the air. “Juche!”
Cuba sucked her teeth. “Dammit, North Korea. We talked about this.”
And everyone met this with thunderous applause, because North Korea yelled at them to.
After all of the drama, Cuba went out back for a smoke. The sound of forceful smacking led her behind the reindeer shed. But rather than finding Ted’s mom, she found Russia, who was participating in her yearly Christmas ritual of getting piss ass drunk and beating the mess out of an inflatable snowman to the rhythm of Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s “A Mad Russian’s Christmas.”