Here's the form...
Name: Richard Lim
Name Of Main Character You Want And Gender: Chairman Miow, Male, 18-20
Character Description: Half Chinese half English young man. Only one leg is shorter than the other. The shorter leg has a foot with 4 toes. He's got long black hair which he puts in a ponytail.
Special Info: Chairman Miow thinks Kim Jong-un is misunderstood. He obsesses over North Korea and thinks Western media is completely bias, as why else would Dennis Rodman go out there. He's always wanted to visit from a young age and works in Mc Ds to save up the money. Realises it will take forever and so starts selling frozen burgers from MC Ds on eBay and makes an absolute fortune. He flies out to N. Korea and it isn't what we expected...
Here's the story. Bloody weirdo.
Chairman Miow sat on the table of his boss’ office and cut the sole of his left shoe. Sweat formed on his forehead. Intense concentration as he sliced with military precision.
“Piece of crap,” he muttered to himself. He slammed the red and yellow McDonald’s branded shoe off the table. Nobody even looks at our damn shoes, he thought. One of his legs was shorter than the other, so he had to hack part of the sole off to even things out. Otherwise he'd waddle like a duck.
He hated working at McDonald's, but it was the only job he could get. He’d worked at a mobile phone shop, but when an old lady mocked his long black ponytail, asking if he travelled to work from 1980, he head butted her.
Then he worked in a restaurant, but was racially abused. He found being half-Chinese and half-English difficult, and the chef kept mocking him with Chinese stereotypes. He’d always pose him maths problems and throw ingredients at him, demanding he roundhouse kick them. Chairman Miow would explain he isn’t a martial arts expert because as well as one leg being shorter than the other, he had four toes which compromised his balance. But such technical thought only enhanced the stereotypes.
One day, Chairman Miow had enough, so he urinated in the chef’s tea. Instead of denying the deed, he did the helicopter with his penis and shouted ‘pissy tea, pissy tea’ at the chef. Everyone laughed at Chairman Miow's tiny penis and he was fired.
Now at the age of twenty, this job at McDonald’s was his last chance, and sadly, the worst of all them.
The door opened. Jack, a mid forties meathead, looked at Chairman Miow, suspiciously.
“Come on loser. General meeting.”
Chairman Miow was nearly done cutting the sole of the shoe. “I just need to…”
“No you don’t. Now,” Jack said.
Jack loved lording it over Chairman Miow. He was one those insecure idiots that treated his staff like shit to make himself feel more important.
Jack led Chairman Miow to the main floor, pre opening time. Standing by the door were Harriet, James, and Liam. A skinny, greasy, cold thirty year old, who looked like he’d poison his nan’s porridge to get to her will faster.
“Hey guys,” he said, nasally, with a hint of smug.
“Morning Liam,” Chairman Miow said.
Jack stood on a chair. “Right. I’ve an announcement.”
Please be that you’re leaving, Chairman Miow thought.
“I’m leaving. Got a better job. Standard,” Jack said.
Chairman Miow was already having a party in his mind. He envisaged McDonald’s without Jack, where he didn’t get called a loser every day, and could wear shoes that didn’t strangle his feet. Maybe he’d take that arsehole Liam with him.
“And Liam is the new boss.”
Oh fuck, Chairman Miow thought.
“So yeah. It’s been a pleasure and all that, but I can’t be arsed with a handover, so, enjoy your new boss.” Jack grabbed his bag, then stared at the apple pie stock before taking one, then two, then five. “We’ll call it a leaving bonus.”
He was gone.
Liam smiled. “Soooo…” He addressed his clipboard. “First order of the era of Liam. I need an ass kisser. Any takers?”
James raised his chubby hand.
“Excellent. You are to laugh at my jokes, support me in arguments, and amuse me.”
“Second order of the era of Liam. Name tags. They are to have your proper names on them. And not just first names. Full names.”
Everyone was annoyed.
“Come on, don’t make us do that,” Harriet protested. “Last time we had our full names on badges, some guy found me on Facebook and asked me if he could stick his meat between my buns.”
“It sounds like a perfectly valid way to ask someone out,” Liam said.
“Then he asked me to shit on some nuggets and feed them to him.”
Everyone was repulsed.
“I don’t care,” Liam said. “Being exposed means you’ll work harder to not get complained about.” He pointed at Chairman Miow. “So no more of that weird Chairman shit.”
“But this is my name,” he said.
“Don’t bullshit me. I’m your boss, and boss don’t like bull.”
“I’m serious. My cat was called Chairman Miow, and when he died, my parents were so upset that they changed my name legally, to Chairman Miow, because they loved him more than me and always wanted to be reminded of him.”
“Why’s Miow not spelled like the cat’s meow then?”
“My parents are thick.”
Liam looked at Chairman Miow for a minute.
“No deal. Ditch that name. And if you don’t have a real name, I’ll give you one.”
Chairman Miow hung his head.
“And now we need to sort out all of your Facebook profiles. Follow me.”
In the back office, Liam sat at a computer.
“Right. Log in details?”
“Pissoff,” Chairman Miow said.
“Look. I need to make sure you’re all advertising that you work here, and that your profiles have suitable content.”
“It’s because you have dirty photos isn’t it?” Liam looked at James, waiting for an additional comment.
“Yeah. You’re right. Dirty photos.” He laughed.
Liam nodded approval.
“I don’t have anything dodgy. It’s just private.”
“Show me your profile, or you’re fired.”
Chairman Miow wished he could stand up to him, but heavy hearted, sat at the computer and logged onto Facebook.
“What the fuck is that profile picture?” Liam said.
“It’s… Kim Jong-un.”
“Kim what who?”
“He’s the supreme leader of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, North side.”
“Oh, that nutter!”
“He’s not a nutter. That’s what the west want you to believe.”
“I heard he put people in jail for not grieving enough for the other Kim Jong,” James said.
“Il. Kim Jong-il. And that’s propaganda.”
Liam googled Kim Jong-un. “He learned to drive when he was three!” He laughed. “What a load of bollocks.”
“It’s not beyond the realms of possibility,” Chairman Miow said. “He is the world’s youngest ever head of state. So is obviously gifted.”
“And he doesn’t go the toilet, for a number one or two! Amazing. What a fucking clown.”
“Stop being horrible!”
“And what’s this shit? He loves Michael Jordan and has a room in his house dedicated to pencil drawings of him.”
“That’s not weird. And Dennis Rodman is the Supreme Leader's friend, so he must be cool.”
“Or he just really fancies big black guys.”
“Yeah, sounds like he’s got a fetish for tall black guys,” James added.
“Stop believing everything you read! The press manipulate everything. When anyone gets remotely powerful they target them. Look at Michael Jackson. He never touched kids. They created that to bring him down. Just like they did with Rolf Harris.”
“I’ll give you MJ but Rolf Harris is definitely a pedophile.”
Chairman Miow was devastated.
“Look,” Liam said. “You need to sort all this crap out. I’m not having some weird dictator loving knob flake work here.”
That night, Chairman Miow lay on his bed watching a documentary. Distracted, he looked at his wallpaper of Kim Jong-un, and all of the paper clip models of him he’d made from stolen paperclips from another job he lost. He wondered what the Supreme Leader would do in this situation. He’d probably hold a party under the stars to make everyone come together. He was that much of a good guy. Chairman Miow phoned his mum.
“What?” she answered.
“Hi mum. How are you?”
“Less small talk, get to what you need. I’m running a bath and I’m not letting it get cold so we can talk shit about the weather and another one of your failed diets.”
“Umm… I need some money.”
“I want to travel to North Korea to meet the Supreme Leader of the Democratic Republic of Korea, North side.”
His mum laughed for an unnecessarily long time.
He let it go for a minute then had to speak. “I need to be there, in the land where happiness thrives…”
She interrupted him. “Hold on, I just need to… hold on.”
He could clearly hear her press a button putting her phone on loudspeaker.
“Go on,” she said.
“I read on a forum that there are trees everywhere, and he drives around in an electric car feeding the poor from his very own hand. And there are double rainbows all year round.”
Chairman Miow could hear chuckling, and a different voice repeat ‘double rainbows’ before laughing.
He hung up.
Chairman Miow watched his documentary, it was about a man who worked somewhere he hated, so he stole equipment and sold it on eBay, made millions, then bought the place out and bulldozed it. He had an idea…
“What do you mean we’re out of burgers?” Liam said.
“The lunch rush? Those school kids are embracing obesity,” Chairman Miow said.
“This is great. When the weekly numbers come in I’ll definitely get a raise.” Liam walked off, a spring in his step. “New era, new motivation, new results. High five me.”
“High five me you dumb shit.”
Chairman Miow reluctantly lifted his hand. Liam slapped it so hard the shock shot up his arm.
“Yeah!” Liam left.
Chairman Miow got on the computer and checked eBay. No bids for the frozen hamburgers yet.
Chairman was worried. He needed to make his millions before the weekly numbers showed they’d lost most of their stock. Otherwise he’d surely get fired.
The week passed with no joy. Chairman Miow walked to work slower than ever, fully aware that he was in trouble. He’d been up all night hoping someone would buy some burgers, but not a single bite. He also felt sick from eating all the food in his fridge and freezer to make room for the stock. He’d had six pizzas, four chicken breasts, and eight jars of jam. He felt his anus tremble. If it gave way the floodgates would pour a river of hell.
He entered McDonald’s, terrified, and was met with Liam’s stare. “Everyone. Emergency meeting.”
He lined everyone up in the office and paced in front of them like an army general.
“I was very embarrassed to learn that not only had we not sold the most burgers in the history of this branch. But we have sold the least week, because someone among us is a thief.” He looked at Harriet. “Now who is it? Is it you?” He leaned in close. His breath all over her face.
She made a noise nobody understood, but it definitely was along the lines of ‘help, this smell is toxic.”
“Of course it’s not you, you’re too thick to do something like that.”
He approached James. “My yes man. My butt shiner. My bum brush.” That one didn’t get the desired reaction. “Was it you?”
“Of course not my leader.”
Liam nodded and smiled. “Of course it isn’t. You’re loyal.”
Liam looked at Chairman Miow. He was truly shafted. He'd get fired, and never make enough money to meet the man he wished he could be. He hated his life and all of his hopes rested on being able to meet his idol.
Liam looked Chairman Miow up and down. “Bullshit!” Liam snapped at James. He threw him against the wall, but really slowly because he was weak. “Of course it was you. The evidence is in your paunch.”
Chairman Miow couldn’t make eye contact with Harriet. She knew it was him, but he couldn’t come clean. He needed this job. It was the bridge to his dream.
“You like to eat work produce do you, James?”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Here.” Liam grabbed a handful of donuts. “Eat.”
“I’m actually on a diet.”
Liam pushed his face into a donut. “Eat!”
James, crying, ate the donut.
“And that one.”
“I think this is illegal,” Harriet said.
“Shut up!” Liam threw a donut at her. It splatted off the wall.
James lifted another donut, coughing, a teary mess.
“It was me!” Chairman Miow said. “I stole the burgers.”
Liam walked up to him, his nose pretty much touching Chairman Miow’s.
“You one legged nasty piece of shit.”
“I actually have both legs. One is just noticeably shorter than the other. I'll happily be called wonky twat, or hobblin’ goblin if it helps me not get fired. Please. I need this job. I've made a mistake and I've learned my lesson.”
Liam stared at him through rage red eyes. “You’re done. And all those burgers are coming out of your month’s wage.”
“Get the fuck out.”
Chairman Miow's dream was over.
That night Chairman Miow cried in his room. Knowing he’d never get to see Kim Jong-un, he ripped the wallpaper down, and broke his paper clip figurines. It was too much torture to be surrounded by reminders of the hero he’d never meet.
He piled it all into a bin and poured lighter fluid on it. His computer beeped. A message on eBay. ‘I will buy all your burgers for £1 million.’
Chairman Miow thought it was a hoax. He replied, and the mystery buyer emailed back with a place and time to meet. Chairman Miow was worried he was going to get mugged, killed, or be intimately interfered with, but what choice did he have?
He was ordered to get on the London Eye at 8.45, and there was a briefcase with one million pounds in it. The family he shared a pod with looked worried, but he assured them all was fine. As they all exited, Chairman Miow left a ruck sake full of burgers on the pod, assuring everyone there was no bomb. He walked away smiling as panic set in around the tourist attraction.
Chairman Miow had done it. He had his one way ticket to dream land.
As his plane landed Chairman Miow had to control himself from passing out with excitement. This is what it must be like for teenage girls to meet One Direction, he thought. He stepped off the plane and was led down a tunnel with signs welcoming him to the Magic Land of North Korea, Where Dreams Are Real And Happiness Dances. He thought about what that first meeting would be like. He imagined Kim would welcome him with a hug, and they’d sit down and discuss world politics and corruption. They’d right the wrongs and build a better Korea North side, then they’d sip herbal tea under a waterfall.
As he emerged from the tunnel he was slightly disappointed to see no double rainbows or trees, but grey pillars with dancers chained to them, and dog shit. Lots of dog shit. Worse yet, manservants were going around picking it up with their hands and putting it in pouches on their aprons. Behind them, a crazed man drove in an armoured vehicle shaped like a swan. He fired cannon balls at the manservants to make them pick up poop faster.
Chairman Miow couldn’t make out the figure, and he imagined this was all part of some live art show or street festival. Kim Jong-un was creative like that. As he tried to focus a gun clicked by his head and a child beat him over the head with a tennis racquet.
When he regained consciousness he was in a palace covered in gold statues of Kim Jong-un – riding a dragon. Twerking. Doing an overhead kick at football. Holding a hippo above his head. In One Direction, having replaced Zayn.
Chairman Miow looked down. He was strapped to a chair. He didn’t feel any sense of danger though as he was in his hero’s domain. A large pasty Korean guard stood by him as a curtain slowly rose. Chairman saw the little feet with black shoes. The fat little ankles that funnelled up into fatter thighs. Then the curtain revealed the rest of the pear shaped body as Kim Jong-un’s. Chairman Miow had never felt this kind of happiness.
Kim Jong-un just stared ahead, and as he raised his arms, two muscly women lifted him under the arms and carried him towards Chairman Miow like some kind of rotund angel. Behind them David Guetta on a moving DJ booth played rousing music and released atmospheric smoke. A light show slightly blinded everyone.
As Kim was set down, Guetta stopped and drove off to the side.
“I’ve been watching you,” Kim said.
He nodded for the pasty guard to untie Chairman Miow.
Kim directed Chairman Miow to a big screen and clicked his fingers.
“I have a supersonic satellite. Whenever anyone says my name it targets them and brings their image up.”
He pressed a button and it powered up.
“Annoyingly, it latches on to the name Kim, so I have to watch a lot of bullshit.”
The screen made a noise and zoomed into part of America until it was in a mansion. “Not these idiots again!” Kim complained.
Kanye West was on the sofa in his pants, desperately trying to light a candle. “Kim, Kim. KIM!” He cried. “Kim, I can’t light the candle, Kim. Help. Kim, the candle…”
Kim Kardashian entered and lit the candle for Kanye and he clapped like a happy child.
“For fuck sake. Every day with the fucking candle.”
He pressed the button again. The machine whirred. “There’s also this boring couple who dress as dictators and sex each other. He’s always me and she’s always Maggie Thatcher.”
The screen zoomed into France.
The couple had vicious sex. But the man was Maggie Thatcher this time and his wife was Kim Jong-un.
“Ooh, a development in the relationship,” Kim said. “Idiots,” Kim turned the screen off. “I’ve been watching you for years. Every night I see you in your room and you cry. So when I saw you put the burgers for sale, I bought them so you could come here.”
“Why didn’t you just invite me, instead of making me work in McDonald’s all this time?”
“I was busy running a country. Duh.”
“Well, I’m ready to be your employee. You must have seen I’ve been defending your honour. All the lies about you, like not going to the toilet. I defended them all!”
“Defended! What are you on about? I don’t go to the toilet.”
“What?” Chairman Miow was confused.
“Nobody does. I’ve learned that the need for the toilet is purely psychological. Once you master your mind, you can master anything. I’m like Professor Xavier. Now, nobody in the whole of Korea goes to the toilet. Apart from the dogs. They shit everywhere and anywhere. Which is why we hunt them. But it’s a lot of fun!”
Kim lifted his hand for a high five. One of the muscly women lifted him towards Chairman Miow’s hand so he didn’t have to make any effort.
Chairman Miow was disappointed in what he’d seen so far.
“And thank you for the burgers. You know, my dad invented them.”
“Actually, it was a…”
The guard indicated for Chairman Miow to shut up.
“Was what?” Kim asked.
“Nothing,” Chairman Miow sad.
“Walk with me,” Kim said.
They walked through a paradise-like garden. Well, Chairman Miow walked through nettles while Kim was carried along by the under arms again as the muscly women’s legs were attacked. Here were the trees he’d envisaged, and the waterfalls. It all looked a bit artificial though.
“Now that you’re here, in my presence, is there anything you would like to ask me?”
Chairman Miow dreamt of this moment. “Yes oh Supreme Leader. I have always wanted to ask you how you see the greatness of Korea North side developing in the eyes of western society?”
“Developing? Ha! Look around you. You’re basically in Hawaii. I live in my own, private, Hawaii.”
“But what about the rest of the country? I saw people suffering near the airport.”
“Fuck that. I got Mojitos on tap, and a twenty four hour party.” He waved at David Guetta. "And when I'm ready, I'll blow loads of other shit around the world up."
Chairman Miow hoped he was joking. Surely he was the progressive leader he’d imagined and not a crazed tyrant.
They turned a corner and a large building dominated the landscape. A prison.
"But what about those who need more? Who need help?"
“If anyone has any problem with how I run things, they can spend their days in here.”
Kim pointed out the prison. Above it a double rainbow. Only it wasn’t a double rainbow. It was a load of painted dead bodies stuck together and arranged as one over the prison.
Chairman Miow was horrified.
“Want to go in and poke some naughty people?” Kim asked.
“Umm… Maybe I should find my hotel.”
“No, no, no. Nobody leaves my paradise island. Apart from Dennis Rodman. And that’s only because he’s my sexy spy.”
Kim nodded and his female body guards grabbed Chairman Miow around the head.
Chairman Miow couldn’t believe it. The man he had hoped to meet all these years. The man he really wanted as a father. The man he wished he could be… was a total nut job penis face.
He watched reruns of a Kim Jong-un's promo video in his cell. It showed Kim building the pyramids with his mind, inventing music by flicking his tongue, and stroking a fish until it turned into a bear.
The door opened, and he was sure it was time for his death, and he didn’t care, because his life was ruined.
It was the guard. Probably come to gloat. “You gotta run like a mother fucker,” he said.
“Run. And you have to take this.” He handed Chairman Miow a DVD and his case of money. “It is all of his plans against the rest of the world.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Cos he’s a lunatic. And that mind stuff is bull. Everyone here uses the toilet. That shit in the street. It ain’t dog shit. It’s people shit. And we tell him it’s dog shit so he doesn’t kill us for relieving ourselves. Right now, seventy per cent of people in this building have shit and piss in their underwear.”
They heard a noise.
They ran through the palace grounds, sneaking, hiding, weaving. A helicopter in the distance on the edge of a cliff.
“Can you fly a helicopter?”
“Look at me and ask that question again.”
“I don’t know, you Chinese folk are good with machines and all that. Just treat it like a calculator or some shit.”
Chairman Miow would kick the guard if he wasn’t trying to be helpful.
“Right, I'll have to come with you then, but he's fit me with an explosive device so I'll have to jump out of the chopper once it's in the air, before he detonates me."
Chairman Miow couldn't handle all this.
"Make the run for it on three. One…”
Chairman Miow readied himself.
Chairman Miow got on his toes.
A huge spotlight shone on them both. It was David Guetta. He played a dance style alarm. Lights shot up through the grass and in the distance one of the muscly ladies drove the metallic swan, while Kim stood on top manning the cannon as the other muscly woman held cannon balls.
They ran for the helicopter. As they neared a cannon ball hit the guard. Chairman Miow tended to him, his head a bloody mess.
“Go…” he groaned.
“You can make it.”
“It’s too late for me.” He looked at Chairman Miow. “You’re the last hope.”
“At least let me know you're name so I can tell people who the real hero is.” Chairman Miow cried.
“I’m… I'm... Dennis Rodman.”
“This crazy piece of shit steals people’s identities and sends clones back in their place. I can honestly say I sympathise with you. Being an Oriental looking dude is fucking shit.”
“I know. I really know.”
“Now get out of here.”
Chairman Miow sat in the helicopter. He pressed all the buttons that looked like ‘fly,’ but all it did was fling the helicopter off the cliff and towards the water below.
This is where by some miracle Chairman Miow would press the right button, and before the helicopter crashed into the water that button would save the day and right the helicopter and he’d fly away to safety, middle finger aimed at a fuming Kim. He let instinct take over. He pressed a button. Everything went black…
Several weeks later...
Chairman Miow had gone home and bought McDonald's. He now had the honour of bulldozing it as Liam watched, tears in his eyes. He got out of the bulldozer and took a piss on the rubble.
“Hahaha, now they’ll never suspect a thing,” Kim Jong-un said. He watched it all on a monitor, through a camera implanted in Chairman Miow’s eyes. Behind Kim, a little white guard, identical to the one Dennis Rodman was, cried.
“Don’t look so sad Chairman Miow. It was your dream to meet me, and now you get to live with me, forever.”
Kim laughed as Chairman Miow, desperate for the toilet but too scared to ask to go to one, pissed his pants.