A fairytale of the future.

Brought to you by my mental health needs. And probably your's.

In the end, it wasn’t even close. She buried him alive.

When all that remained of his monstrous form was a grotesque, misshapen orange clown mask jutting from the loose dirt of his shallow grave, the first female president of the United States swung her heavy iron shovel one last time. She shattered the rotten Halloween gourd, stuffed with buzzard guano and soggy hash browns, exploding it in spectacular fashion—without so much as a chipped tooth or a fleck of pumpkin flesh besmirching her impeccably tailored tan pantsuit.

Eight nightmare years ended not with a whimper but with a bang and the satisfyingly loud, wet plop of a garbage bag stuffed with rancid egg pudding hitting the sidewalk at terminal velocity, the smell of its rupture wafting up like… sweet deliverance.

It was over.

The endless weeks and months of campaigning, of fighting, and warding off dread doubt and sick fear had finally, quite magically, come to an end. The monster was dead. It had not triumphed. It had not feasted on the marrow of the world as it had threatened to from the very first moment it shambled out of the shadows, dripping dark ichor from the Medusa tangle of razor-toothed tentacle-tongues writhing within its ravenous maw.

And with it went the deplorable legions of its Renfields and Igors. She had shattered the great beast’s supplicant orcs and scattered them all to the far corners of the howling wastes.

Gone were the goblin oligarchs, dragging their sacks of gold. Gone, too, the dire regiments of punishers and straighteners, the hateful armies of the bitter and resenting. Gone, the chancer and the grifter. Gone forever, the vengeance cultists, the weird genomic fetish freaks, the great, drooling horde of capering fools and their captains, the dangerous idiots. So many idiots and so very dangerous. But gone now. Altogether vanished like a dream.

Fading too, from the far horizon, the fleets and squadrons of older enemies stirred to aspiration by the monster’s vanity and promise of welcome at his second court. She put them to flight as she put him to his rest, there being nothing so likely to spread an exemplary terror among the monster class as the humiliating vanquishment of their own.

And now, as morning breaks the long dark night, comes the greatest miracle of all. That all who once denounced our hero now seek her favour and indulgence. As if they did not ever find themselves within the monster’s ranks. Almost as if the monster never did exist.

“Let us forget all that,” they murmur. “And live happily ever after. I never liked that monster anyway.”