The Adventures of Kim Jong-Un, the Brilliant Comrade

The Adventures of Kim Jong-Un, the Brilliant Comrade

by Akhmetzyanova L.R.
special for LINGVISTOV Podcast

One morning Kim Jong-un, or as his father called him “Chubby-Cheeks” or as he called himself “Kim-the-Indestructible-un”, woke up one sunny morning in his mega palace built in a shape of a rocket somewhere in Pyongyang. He always liked rockets and couldn’t wait till they finally let him play with the real ones, cos that’s where the fun is. He took his morning gown from his secretary, whose job was to stay up all night in supreme leader’s bedroom with a group of soldiers to keep the monsters away. That kept the impressionable Kim calm and he could forget about evil capitalist bastards that were after him. He signed papers for some more nuclear tests – face it, there can never be enough – and headed down to his personal McDonalds.
“Where’s my damn wife, prime minister?” – asked Kim a heavily decorated man, who handed him his order of one cheeseburger, fries and one large Pepsi.
“She is nowhere to be seen, Supreme leader. I think she got captured by evil capitalist bastards.”
“I don’t care. Get me a new one.”
“I’m afraid you can’t have a new one.”
“They all look the same for God’s sake. Besides I am the greatest person born of heaven, known for my superb physical gifts and I ride a Jetski, I can do whatever the hell I want”.
“That’s not good for your public image” – these were Minister’s last words before he was dragged away by soldiers.
“Shit, he’s right,” – it dawned on our eternal general secretary, - “If I could recapture her, that would be a fantastic theme for another one of my praise songs. I will make all North Koreans sing it so that everyone on Earth could hear it. It would be a great addition to my super mega propaganda message visible from space. What did it say again: Just do it? No-no… God save the Queen? oh, God, no. Long live our Kim, that’s it plus one of my thousand super cool titles. That’s gonna be absolutely brilliant.”
Baby bum Kim-Jong-Number-Un sipped his Pepsi and decided to stick with that plan. In order to bring it to life he had to call up a meeting. But first things first. Basketball practice! “Damn, I made Dennis Rodman visit me,” he thought, “He even called me awesome! I know it required some persuasion on my part. Like my daddy said, it’s always wise to have a gun on you and a big red button with the words “kabum” on it”. With such thoughts Supreme Leader entered his own sports hall of fame. Kim’s daddy was the greatest athlete who ever lived. He once shot five holes-in-one in his first try at golf, bowled a 300. Considering he could change the weather based on his moods, he was probably a boss at Ultimate Frisbee. Kimmy was not different from him. There were photos made last summer when he secretly played with NHL biggest stars and destroyed them with his superb physical powers and agility. There were trophies upon trophies: number one athlete, every golden medal from North Korean National Olympics starting from 2010 when his daddy kicked the bucket, he hold first places in cycling, fencing, ice hockey, archery, rugby and most importantly diving where he astonished the jury with his remarkable skills of plunging into the body of water. There were life-sized portraits of Kim playing football, crushing his opponents in long-distance marathons, doing summersaults, riding bears, opening jaws of a shark that was scared brainless by Kim’s imposing stature. There were also fresh recordings of his unique fitness-at-home videos, where he starred and showed everyone that you can have a perfect body by doing these simple exercises for less than 20 minutes per day. He was planning to launch them this spring before the beach season, when face it sisters you’ve got to show it all. Kim-Jong-Irresistible-Un put on his basketball jersey, shorts and special Nike sneakers when a group of people from the Politburo of the Workers' Party of Korea came in wearing basketball uniforms with word “Losers” written on them. “Ok, let’s get this party started” said Kimmy and hit the ball.

 After the workout Kim-Jong-Incredible-Un called one of his ministers.
“So, any news about my wife?”
“Well, Supreme Leader, I personally retrieved a letter with capitalist stamps on it from your foreign correspondence mail box. For all our liking it could have been infected with cancer – remember Chavez? Americans poisoned that Venezuelan buffoon who had an incomprehensible love for berets. And bloody good job they did. Listen, I understand that the Internet is the American tool to corrupt the beautiful minds of our people, but you could at least let us use it.”
“You’re a brave man, Chinchon. Take another medal. But no Internet for you.”
“Oh, a hundred and eleventh one! Hurray!”
Kim opened the envelope. There was a piece of paper with letters cut out from a newspaper. Kimmy felt like he was in an action movie with a twisted plot. “Wow, this is getting more and more interesting,” he thought, “I bet in a few years they will shoot a blockbuster about this and have Sylvester Stallone play me. They will call it “Top Un” or “Kim-Jong Untimatum” or “RoboKim” or “Kim-Jongator”. With such thoughts he read the letter.
“Dear Kim-Jong-un… What the hell, not dear, to say the truth the least dear. But whatever. This is your ally. But I’m not gonna tell you who I am. Think of me as your Robin. Hmm, but that makes you Batman. No, this is wrong on so many levels. Anyway, the thing is that your wife was kidnapped by the USA government. I don’t know where they keep her. She might as well be in a hidden party lounge in the White House or drinking cocktails in Malibu. So they make you choose: either you bomb the USA like you planned knowing your princess is in there somewhere, or you go and look for her the old-fashioned Mario-way. Beware that every dog in the country is trained to recognize your smell, so you better be prepared. Peace out, yo. Your best hommie.”
What the… thought Kim. I don’t wanna go anywhere. I want a cake. I want to have a long hot bath with myself. But then the ghost of his father Kim Jong-il appeared before him.
“Nice, daddy, Hamlet-style,” said Kim Jr.
“Shut up, Chubby-cheeks,” said his father, “You are going to take your butt in your hands and carry it all the way to America.”
“But-but, Daaad…”“You’re a big boy now. Actually you’re much bigger than a boy should be. So put on your best smile and do what you’re told.”
“Mmmm… ok, Daddy, why don’t you leave me alone even after you’re dead.”
“I’m not going to let you ruin my country with your love of cakes, Justin Bieber and Nike sneakers. Have you put the latest video I made on the Internet? It took me the whole week to complete the montage. And you know how stroppy they can get in Hell if you do not do your 8-hour shift a day?”
“I thought you’re one of the bosses there.”
“Not with Stalin and Hitler in charge. Those guys can really rock the party. So what’s up with the video?”
“It’s gone viral. Nice work on special effects by the way. For a moment I thought we did bomb Washington. It just felt so real. I’m telling you we have to start making it 3D. This is what seem to captivate the minds of young people these days. And once you’ve got the young, you’ve got the whole world.”
“I’m getting there, son. You meanwhile have to disguise as a middle-aged bored businessman, consult with our scientists and get your ass to America.”
“Ok, dad…”
The ghost of Kim Jong-Il disappeared.“I hate this controlling SOB”, mumbled Kimmy and headed to see his generals. The room was filled with old heavily decorated men who by the look of them had seen the annexation of their state by the Japanese and the Soviets alike. And I mean there were hundreds of them if not thousands. “Why did my daddy have them?” wondered Kim, “did they make him look less ancient?” Once the generals saw the Supreme Leader, they lined into perfect rows and started singing the national anthem.
“Oh, no, not again,” cried Kim, “just shut up already and tell me the news.”
“Our dear Supreme Leader and the Sun over our heads,” started General Song-kung, “our people and our land would not survive a single day without having your blessed hand guiding us through the mist of…”
“Yeah-yeah, blah-blah, changer le disk and say it like you mean it” Kim looked annoyed. And that was a bad sign, really-really bad, like Pol Pot for Cambodians bad or any types of major disasters for America bad or George W. Bush for art bad.
“Ok…” said the general, “well, it turns out that there’s a small non-profit podcast called…rin-lin…linguiston, ringuiston, somewhere in Russia. They seem to understand our values and worship us. I think we’ve got to contact them and use as spies.”
“Oh, do they praise me and adore me?”
“They do, especially the girl called Ranudu… Lanudu, for Pete’s sake, why can’t they have simple names like Ling-song or Choe Yong-rim or Kim Kye Gwan or Pak Ui-chun? I mean, how hard can it be?”
“Not interested. Neither a Korean girl – that’s bad for image - nor a Moroccan princess, so no chance. I respect myself, Song-kung, what are you trying to pimp me to some Russians?”
“Just saying, Supreme Leader.”
“Russia will soon be our colony,” replied Kim, “And Putin will be flexing his muscles under our reign. I think I will let him star in our propaganda films. It seems that’s the only thing he truly wants to do. His six-pack shouldn’t be hidden under a suit, man. I think we have to make our version of “Avengers”. I love this movie! I’m going to be Iron Man, because he’s super sexy. We’ll have Putin as Hulk, Clinton as Captain America, Angela as Black widow, Berlusconi as Hawkeye and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad as Loki. Have you seen Mexican president Pe?a Nieto? A man must not be allowed to be this attractive. We’ll dress him as Thor and put a wig on his head. Doesn’t matter he’s Latino. We’ll blackmail Jamesy Cameron, keep him in a dungeon and he’ll direct it for free. Damn, I can’t wait! It’s such a pity my wife let herself be kidnapped by Americans. We could have bombed the USA by that time and started to shoot the movie already. I knew I had to get a wife who could kung-fu.”
“About that, Supreme Leader,” said humbly the General, “Your daddy faxed us from Hell. Today we came up with a plan to get you to the US.”
“Hit me,” said Kimmy, excited about the prospects the global domination offered him!
“We will change your appearance using the most advanced technologies: change your face, eyes, finger prints. You’ll even smell differently.”
“Can I smell like peaches?”
“Of course, Supreme Commander,” said the general after a small pause, “You will receive an ID and all the documents under the name of Yo Soh-fat, as well as a complete wardrobe and plane tickets. From now on you’ll be a middle aged IT specialist who goes to work for American company.” 

The generals looked so identical it seemed they were cloned. In the beginning Kim thought he was going to go nuts just by looking at them let alone by trying to distinguish among them. That’s why he called most of them General Lee. And they always seemed to be defying gravity with the amount of medals that hung from their chests. So the crowd of general lees hurried to get the Supremest of all leaders Kim Jong-Un to the sophisticated high-tech labs where he would be transformed into a shiny new traitor of the great motherland North Korea by the distinguished scientists including some Russian, French and American ones who were kidnapped and declared missing in their own countries. Poor bastards couldn’t do anything, because after one of the scientists tried to mess with the blood of virgins that Kim’s father drank every day to stay alive and kicking and went really missing this time, no one dared to do anything. Life as it is was hard for them. Try to survive on one can of soup per day. And what’s most important – no damn Internet! So our Kim went through a number of wards where he was washed, dressed, had his haircut done (I mean, it’s tragic that he would lose his trendy hairstyle that made him stand out so much among the others and that even has its own Facebook page! It’s true. It even has 77 likes! It’s a loss for humanity. It was so hot among the modern teens with its sideshaves and middle parting with hair resembling two wings of a raven. How romantic and sublime is that?!). It was hard for Kim to get over the fact that he no longer could wear the black suit that used to fake a perfect figure by hiding some of its unremarkable flaws and accentuating his muscular build. “I was born in that suit!” cried Kim Jong-Un while an army of generals tried to strip him of it. Finally he was groomed, dressed, given necessary papers and a suitcase.
“I look like that dancing idiot from America’s puppet South Korea,” Kim looked in the mirror and was displeased. The soldiers immediately grabbed the scientists and started in the direction of the nearby unoccupied forested area preferably with a nice ravine to help hide the bodies. “Something’s missing,” said Supreme Leader all of a sudden, “Let me have some of these cool glasses, that’d be a nice touch I reckon,” he added and lit up the room with his perfect Hollywood smile. “Damn, I’m gonna get some action when I’m in the States.” General Lees nodded in agreement and the soldiers let the scientists go.
“But you can’t have a state without a leader!” realized Kim Jong-Un. “I can’t leave you like that. We are just planning to get Mike Tyson here… and I was negotiating with Lady Gaga’s agents about the special concert with our male choir and army orchestra. You can’t have my brother ruling the country. He’s such an asshole. The first thing he’ll do is build Disney Land in Pyongyang.”
“Don’t worry, Supreme Leader. We have found your twin! He lived somewhere in the village, he looks just like you. But of course no one can compare with your fantastic looks,” added the general after receiving a frowning look from Kim Jong-Un, “but the capitalist bastards understand nothing in real male beauty, commander! They are so easy to trick. He’ll do nothing we promise. He’ll just stand there and wave and check out new factories or something. We’ll have a constant connection with you.”
“Are you sure he’s not going to declare the war on the United States and South Korea? I mean, we are not ready. Of course we can start it, but we can’t yet provide our soldiers with enough ammunition and food even for three days! And you can’t photoshop real ships! We have only two that we’ve been copy pasting all over the photos that were published in the capitalist newspapers.”
“Don’t worry, Supreme Leader. Everything is going to be cheesy-peasy.”
“I’ll be in touch,” said Kim Jong-Un, “Meanwhile I assign Chairman of the Presidium Kim Yong-Nam as a temporary leader of the state in charge and in disguise while that ugly twin of mine entertains the world. Ok, the US are waiting for the new star to rise!” said Kimmy and was ready to leave the country.
We must mention that the evil kidnappers had also left a note for the Supreme Leader in a badass old fashion with letters cut out from newspapers and Xeroxed: “Hello, you fat communist bastard”, it said, “This is the greatest country in the world and possibly in the universe speaking to you, so you better pay some attention. We got your girlfriend… Oh, she’s not his girlfriend? She’s his wife? Ok, got it, commander…. So, listen, we got your wife here. Want to get her back? Well, come and get her if you have the guts. And don’t try to scare us with your nuclear missiles, you’re making yourself a laughing stock, that’s just ridiculous. What we want in return for your precious princess, I hear you ask? What the whole world wants, I dare say: that you let us give you and your people the greatest gift you could ever imagine – democracy. We have a special unit ready to go to North Korea to help you create democracy there. Soon you’ll see how cool it is, we promise! And we happy to inform you, that it’s your lucky day! For we have a special offer for this spring only! Set your country on democratic wheels now and get 15% discount in every McDonalds all over the world for the whole year! Your move, Kim Jong-Un”.
Kim Jong-Un wasn’t going to surrender that easily. Democracy-deshmocracy, he didn’t care. He knew his father would rise from the dead and hang him personally in his palace if he allowed anything like that happen. And let’s face it: not every day you are given a chance to feel part of an exciting James Bond-type of a story. After everything is over we’re going to publish a book, Kim thought, make a blockbuster movie and write a song for our male choir to praise me! Yes, don’t forget about the song. We’ll find some loopholes to make it a new national anthem, father wouldn’t even notice, and make all north Koreans sing it first thing in the morning for I am the Sun and they must welcome me. So, back to business. “I have to penetrate,” pondered Kim during an endless flight to Washington, DC, “I have to be smooth and cool like a snake in the nest. I have to gradually gain their trust, to make them think they can call me any time of the day, tell me all their secrets and they can cry on my shoulder, and then BAM! Destroy them once and for all. This will be spectacular.” Cheeky North Korean Leader mimicked evil laughter which made several passengers’ heads turn. “Maybe I could make a quick detour to California, I’d be great. I could totally become a new Superstar there. I have all the makings of a brilliant actor”. He mimicked evil laughter again and made grumpy travelers produce typical noises of dissatisfaction. The elderly woman sitting to the left shushed him. “Sorry, angry lady,” apologized the Supreme Leader but thought to himself: “I will remember you, ugly American lady, and I’m gonna put you down in my ‘Death note’”. But the pretty stewardess distracted him from his malicious plans because at last it was lunch time on the plane! And they served his favourite: burgers and coke.

Long insufferable hours in the economy class (which makes you think about the state of economy in North Korea) resulted in passengers being released into the coolness of the airport halls and in a few moments – into the hot almost tangible humidity of the air of Washington DC. “Mamma mia,” thought to himself Kim Jong-Un, “finally home” he wanted to say but could stop himself in time not to. But still it was hard for our Supreme Leader not to feel pangs of nostalgia and remember the times when he visited the United States before. The first time they went there undercover – Kim, his parents and his brother. The Supreme Leader was such a beautiful and radiant child, that people on the streets stopped to look at him! Even then he showed signs of greatness and godlike appearance. Of course the only thing his brother wanted to see was Disney Land. But Kim was different. He was fascinated with the lights, the rhythm of life and skyscrapers of New York, pristineness of the streets in Washington DC, the architecture of Boston, and most of all people all over America! How relaxed they were! How white their teeth were. How casual were their smiles and laughter. “Oh, I hate our folks in North Korea – gloomy faces that look the same, the same hairstyles, the same clothes. Daddy, you were freaking wrong”. Suddenly it dawned on him. He felt a desire to bring some change into his country and its people, to make a difference, not to be a boring continuation of his father… But that bastard would burn down the Hell itself just to get back at him if Kim made any move in the direction of loosing it up a bit. He knew his father too damn well. Even after death he was there, controlling, checking and correcting. “Maybe I could change it. Maybe that’s what my mission in this world is. Well, what do I want? I want an occasional steak with French fries, television that provides you with good quality entertainment and I want to play basketball, this is pretty much all”. These thoughts were good thoughts that would probably lead to major changes… or maybe not. But they were interrupted by a delicious smell of Kim’s favourite burgers. “Yes,” Kim Jong-Un thought, “I’m gonna post it in Instagram!” and went to get his thoroughly American burgers.

“Are you an IT specialist from Korea?” asked a tall blonde man wearing glasses. He wondered why Kim Jong-Un’s face looked so familiar to him. “I have already seen that fatty,” the man said to himself. Of course because of his American upbringing that completely twisted his understanding of what is truly great in this world he could not comprehend what a godlike creature was standing in front of him. And if he could he would probably not survive the sheer joy a man must feel in the presence of the almighty Supreme Leader. But he was an American, born and raised, and thus defective. Kim Jong-Un understood that, besides he had a part to play.
“Sure, buddy,” he smiled.
“Those geeky Asians,” thought the tall man. “When will I ever see an office full of Caucasian geniuses?”
So started Kim Jong-Un’s American life under the name of Yo Soh-fat. Well, until the moment he rescued his wife. To say the truth he did not really care about her. I mean, you could have substituted her with any other North Korean woman, he wouldn’t notice the difference. But the principles somehow play an important role in wacko countries with nutjob dictators.
Kim did not waste time enjoying the local attractions. He telephoned regularly to his well-fed generals and ordered them to keep their heads down and lay low for a while. That was a good idea after that bastard twin of his had tried to bomb the whole world. Good thing the generals tied him up in time and substituted with a new one. The general lookalikedness is one big advantage of Asian countries that make Kim’s work much-much easier. The new twin was a quieter type whose thoughts were mostly focused on gastronomy. And nobody heard what happened to the previous one. Rumours have it: he’s somewhere in a psych ward now, drawing diagrams and charts on white walls and writing a book about how he planned to bring down the world to its knees which he revealed would be called “How to almost destroy the world in 10 days: Practical Manual”. Maybe one day they will shoot a movie about him.
Kim knew exactly where his sweetheart was. As a glorious son of an even more glorious leader of North Korea he could not but have inherited certain abilities, including amazing shrewdness and sagacity. So he planned the kidnapping of his kidnapped wife Tom-Cruise-in-Mission-Impossible style. He suspected he would probably not pull off the whole hanging from the roof on a piece of string part and decided to stick with the crawling in the darkness and sneaking in under the veil of the night. If you don’t know it yet – and most likely that you don’t but have always suspected it cause it’s written all over his face – Kim Jong-Un is a trained ninja, good at basketball as well as martial arts. All monks of China and Tibet know him, and after Kim got his belt his old master escaped to live somewhere high in the mountains just to rule out the possibility of ever meeting him again.
So on that decisive night the Supreme Leader consumed his chicken nuggets thinking that soon the times of a nourishing American cuisine will be in the past. He put on his night ninja suit and vanished into the night. 

Kim Jong-Un sneaked into the White House. The complex security system was never a problem for the dexterous North Korean leader. The secret plans of the building he bought for 50 bucks from an ex-Soviet spy had clearly shown to him that there were hidden dungeons beneath it. And he could bet another 50 (after the lavish meals he treated himself to for the past week that was perhaps all he could afford to bet) that his politically precious wife was right there with that evil bastard Barack. Having an extraordinary memory he made his way to the dungeons remembering the aforementioned plans down to the detail. Security guards simply did not see him. He was a trained ninja after all, a little bit on the heavy side but ninja nonetheless. The doors were crack open. And voices were audible.
“Mister President, we cannot find him, he’s too evasive!”
“This cannot be happening! For God’s sake, he’s a clumsy 30 year old douche who even at the best of times looks like a baby that didn’t get his favourite toy! What can he possible do?”
“This!” shouted Kim Jong-Un splitting the door of the dungeon in two halves with just one hit of his right palm, bursting it open and heroically entering the dim-lit room. And there stood Obama and his assistant gloating over poor Missus Kim Jong-Un. 
“Well-well-well, who do we have here,” said Obama.
“It’s me Kim Jong-Un the Unconquerable,” said Kim and made some tricky kung-fuish body movements. “Release my wife and surrender to the great country of North Korea.”
What Kim Jong-Un did not know was that Obama was not your regular man on the street. In fact he had some highly developed superpowers. To be more precise two highly developed superpowers: firstly, he could make people high whenever he wanted in 100 meter radius and even during live TV interviews (that helped him a lot during elections, boosted his charisma, shall we say); the second superpower was more flashy – he was the god of thunderbolts and electricity! He sometimes sent electric charges to other people’s electronic devices or any devices they could touch – that is people whom he did not like. Mitt Romney would never realize what that painful tingling sensation he experienced during the debates whenever he started talking through his microphone was.
So batshit angry Obama started sending thunderbolts in his direction. Kim was a flexible kid and could avoid all of them. Suddenly from the back door appeared a crowd of security guards. Kim Jong-Un fought bravely but in the end let himself be tackled to the floor. He heard a strange whooshing sound and saw Angela Merkel teleporting to the room.
“What the hell is that? Is this some kind of conspiracy?” yelled Kim.
“Chill out,” said Merkel.
“I won’t till you explain all this!”
Merkel glances wearily at Obama. “It’s a bonus type of thing you get when you become a leader of a capitalist state, mein Schatz,” she said, “I have a romantic side, you know, we Germans all do. That’s why I decided to go with teleporting. Putin turns into a Russian version of Hulk and fights bears and sharks barehanded, I don’t know why, he just seems to be into that kind of stuff. Medvedev was a bit unfortunate. He said he wanted to be like Frost, meaning Frost from the X-men, but there seemed to be misunderstanding and apparently a certain language barrier, so he received the power of turning into Russian version of Santa on his will and having a bag with unending supply of presents for kids.”
“How do you get the powers?”
“We kinda get granted by the Boss.”
“The boss?”
“Yeah, you know, the Queen of England. She’s the one in charge. No one knows what her power is. Some say it’s immortality.”
“I want a superpower too! Why can’t I have it” shouted Kim.
“Well, it comes with a tag,” answered Obama.
“No, son,” he heard an eerie voice coming from nowhere.
“Dad?” murmured Kim.
“Don’t let the capitalist bastards lead you astray. North Korean heart is strong and it belongs to its motherland”.
“Sure, but… Dad! Thunderbolts! Can you imagine it?!”
“No,” replied the eerie voice, “don’t even think about it.”
“Ok,” said Kim Jong-Un decisively to Merkel.
“No! Stop it!” cried the voice. “What are you doing? I knew I should have chosen your brother instead of you!”
“Let’s bargain,” said Kim Jong-Un to two world leaders. He was a cheeky man in both senses of this word. “You are aware that I do have nuclear bombs, aren’t you? I will cease our military preparations and nuclear research, pretend that we don’t need anything from you but a little bit of money and the whole world will once again forget that we exist. Everything is great, we disappear from newspapers front pages and you regain your reputation and peace. How does that sound to you?”
“Nah,” said Obama. “We need something else to sweeten the deal.”
“Ok,” replied Kim, knowing what they wanted all along, “you can have a photo shoot with my father’s embalmed body, just please,” he added when the world leaders high-fived each other, “keep it decent, ok?” And the two world leaders cheered. 

Epilogue

So, Kim got what he wanted. And came back to North Korea with his beloved wife. Nobody knows what superpower he chose. And the Queen being a taciturn bitch herself would not reveal it to anyone. All we know is that once traces from four razor sharp claws appeared on his door. And that is all.

THE END.