Is The Donald King of Accusia? Parallels with my book and why you can’t vote for a King.

Our Onerous Choice for President.

I’ve been watching with growing horror and rage the rise of Donald Trump who bears a striking resemblance to a character in my book, The King of Average. My hero, a boy who aspires to be the most average person who ever lived, encounters another king – an ‘infant terrible’, in the kingdom of Accusia.

Young King Onus of Accusia uses scapegoats to maintain the balance in the land and jails anyone who crosses him.

My former blog post painted Donald Trump as King of the Ninnies (a tribe of dullards who believe whatever they are told by their king who lies to impress them), another chapter, but this more accurately characterizes this Onerous president-elect. What follows is a preview of my fantasy of when we are confronted by a bully.

CHAPTER 22

Accusia

THE GREAT HALL was gloomy, dark, and smelled of moldy chocolate, sweet and musty. Piles of candy wrappers and Popsicle sticks lay strewn on the tattered royal purple carpet. Shards of smashed plastic toys that had been swept under the rug crunched under their feet. At the end of the carpet sat an ornately carved wooden throne. Behind it hung a green-and-black tapestry emblazoned with the same large imposing pointing finger.

King Onus of Accusia sat on the throne with his arms folded.

James was surprised and heartened to see that he and the king were about the same age.

An oversized crown perched crookedly on Onus’s head, being stopped only by his ears from ending up around his neck. He wore a striped green-and-black polo shirt with a white collar, black jeans, and black high-top sneakers. He was very round and squat, and his narrow little eyes were fastened on James.

He pointed a finger and the three dirt miners snapped to attention.

“Bring them over here ’tho I can get a better look!” the king said with a very slight lisp.

“You’re just a kid, like me,” said James, smiling.

“No! You’re just a kid! I’m a king!”

“If I may say,” began Roget, “’e will be a king—”

“You be quiet! I’m not talking to you!” screamed Onus.

“—very soon,” Roget trailed off weakly.

Onus turned his attention back to James.

“What are you doing here? I only wanted the goat. Don’t tell me. He’s your scapegoat and you want him back. Ha! Not a chance.”

“Just our luck, the King of Accusia is a loud-mouthed brat,” Kiljoy muttered to himself from Roget’s pocket.

“What was that?” Onus whirled back to Roget.

Kiljoy ducked out of sight.

“Nothing! Nothing, Your Highness. Nothing at all,” Roget stammered.

“Are you calling me names?” he asked threateningly.

“I said it,” Culpa lied.

“It just slipped oo-ou-out.” King Onus turned his attention to Culpa, standing behind James and Roget. He slipped off the throne, hiked his pants up to his large midsection, and waddled down from the platform.

“’Tho it was you, huh?” Onus shoved past James and Roget to appraise Culpa. “Kinda puny, aren’t you? My last scapegoat was twice your size. You think you’re worth what I paid?” Onus flashed a wicked smile. “Let’s see how you take the blame for your friend calling me a brat. How’s this?”

He kicked Mayor Culpa hard, on his rear end, jolting the little goat.

“Stop it!” James shouted. “He didn’t do anything to you!”

“He’s a scapegoat, stupid!” said Onus. He kicked the goat again. Culpa bore it well and bleated piteously enough to satisfy the king.

“Cut it out,” James warned.

“Or what?” challenged Onus. He puffed out his chest and bumped James with his belly, taunting him.

“Bully!” James seethed through gritted teeth.

Onus came nose to nose with James.

“Shut up, you! I’m the king!”

With a malicious sneer, he shoved James so hard he fell back over Culpa onto the floor. Onus let out a cackle and a snort. The dirt miners nodded and laughed too, encouraging the royal brat.

“’Zat was not very nice,” said Roget, helping James to his feet.

Fearing that catastrophe was imminent, Kiljoy jumped from the vest pocket and made a run for it.

“Oh, no ya don’t!” one of the miners said, grabbing Kiljoy and presenting the squirming pessimist to the king. Panic made Kiljoy swell up like a small blowfish. The miner held him by his skinny arms, his legs swinging, kicking in the air.

“Calm down, calm down,” Onus said quietly. “I’m not gonna hurt you! I’m not gonna hurt anybody.”

A relieved Kiljoy immediately deflated and allowed himself to be set down on the armrest of the throne.

Delighted, King Onus grabbed an empty jelly jar from the debris piled next to his throne and scooped Kiljoy into it, clapping on the lid, trapping him like an insect. He picked up a small screwdriver and violently brought the point down on the lid. Kiljoy dodged the dangerous stabs as Onus punched several holes in it and set the jar on the arm of his throne.

“Hey look, everybody! I have a new pet!”

The three grizzled miners smiled and nodded their approval while edging closer to the door with their loot, ready to bolt.

“Take the goat to my room and tie him to my whipping post!” The three miners bowed, grabbing the bleating scapegoat, and made a rush for the door.

“Not you, Toothless!” Onus called to the last miner.

Toothless stopped at the door, his shoulders sagging. The grizzled old miner plastered an ingratiating smile on his face and slowly turned around. “Yes, your high and mightiness?”

Onus crooked a pudgy finger, summoning him forward and commanding him to stand guard over his new treasure. Then he turned his attention back to the others.

“Why did you come here?” he asked. “Never mind. I don’t have anyone to play with at the moment so you’ll stay and keep me company.”

“We can’t stay,” said James.

“I’m not asking. I’m tellin’!” the king hollered.

James spoke slowly in measured tones, holding his temper. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“Oh? Then why did you come?”

Though still fuming, James decided to give diplomacy one last chance. James continued to speak as politely as he could. “You see,” he said, “I had this idea to be the most average kid in the world and the Council of Judges in Average—”

“You think you’re going to take the place of Norman the Unexceptional? You? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Well, I’m going to try,” said James, reaching his boiling point. “But before I do that, I’m going to find King Norman’s children.”

The chubby king’s expression changed. “Those traitors!” His chin quivered and he seethed, practically snorting through his nose. “Get them out of here! Throw them in the dungeon!”

James expected several more guards to appear, but there was only the lone prospector, Toothless.

“Beg pardon,” Toothless ventured, “it’s crammed as it is—”

Onus turned purple with rage. “SHUT UP AND DO IT!!”

Toothless shook his head and obeyed. “Come with me.” He took James and Roget by their shirt collars and dragged them to the door.

“Kiljoy! My compatriot! What about my friend?” Roget asked.

“He’ths mine now,” said Onus.

They looked back at Kiljoy, standing in the jar by the throne, banging away, his tragic cries muffled by the glass.