Once upon a time there was a magical being called Strategic Patience.
Strategic Patience lived in a great castle, called ‘Thinking’.
One day, a man called Donald bought the land that Castle Thinking was built on. He went to the castle, and didn’t like the look of it. So he took a long, hard pee on it and decided to knock it down.
‘We don’t need Thinking any more,’ he said. ‘We have Trump Tower, which is much better.’
From inside Castle Thinking, he heard a little voice.
‘Help me,’ it cried.
‘Who’s there?’ Asked Donald. ‘Are there any Mexicans hiding in there?’
‘It’s me. I’m Strategic Patience and I’ve lived in the Thinking Castle all these years for a damn good reason.’
‘Really?’ Said Donald. ‘What reason is that?’
‘Because without Thinking, Strategic Patience would die.’
‘Ah! I don’t give a shit.’ Said Donald. ‘You die or don’t die – it’s all the same to me.’
‘But,’ said Strategic Patience really slowly, so Donald would understand her. ‘Thinking is a really important place. If you destroy it, you put us all in danger. Thinking has kept this land safe for many years. I’m only one of the creatures who lives in this castle. There are others here who help keep the world safe, too.’
‘Like who?’ Donald puckered his lips with interest.
‘There’s a fairy called Global Peace…’
‘Boring,’ shouted Donald, putting a tiny hand across his mouth in a fake yawn.
‘There’s a sprite called International Cooperation…’
‘I’m sleeping and listening,’ said Donald irritably.
‘There’s a nymph called Ivanka…’
‘Really?’ Said Donald, waking up.
‘No. I was kidding,’ said Strategic Patience, impatiently.
‘I don’t care who lives in Thinking,’ said Donald. ‘We don’t need Thinking, and we don’t need you.’
‘Alright, have it your way. But if you destroy Thinking, and then I die, you’ll be left with that cave over there in the hill. Do you see it?’
‘What lives in the cave?’ Asked Donald.
‘A creature called Hell In A Handbasket,’ warned Strategic Patience.
‘Helena Handbasket? Sounds like my kind of woman,’ said Donald, patting his hair.
Inside Castle Thinking, Strategic Patience rolled her eyes, put on her fluffy slippers, made herself a hot whisky and settled down for the night. It was afterall 50-50 as to whether Donald would remember anything of this encounter in a few hours, and 80-20 that if he remembered, he wouldn’t remember what he thought.
That night, Strategic Patience drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face, as she ran the odds for what would happen when Donald tried to grab Hell In A Handbasket by the pussy.
Dedication: to US VP Mike Pence, for saying “But the era of strategic patience is over,” on his recent visit to South Korea.