Hello, my name is Barack Obama, the 44th president of the United States, but you may know me better as obamacare, a journalist for The RCHK Leeks.
I’m here to tell my story.
I don’t have much time; they’ll come back from the market in 15 minutes. And when that happens, our time is over. If they catch me doing what I’m doing, they’re gonna kill me.
It was a blissful morning. I was sipping on some coffee and reading the newspaper when Michelle gave me a proposition.
“Let’s go to Hong Kong.”
Confused, I asked why, but she had no response. Reluctantly I agreed, because hey what can you do? It's Michelle Obama.
So there I was the next day, on a fifteen hour plane ride to Hong Kong, a city known for its great economic freedom and other things that I can’t think of right now.
When we touched down in the dazzling city, I hailed a cab and off I went to my hotel. I passed by beautiful landmarks, amazing greenery, and - you know what, this doesn’t matter. I need to get to the point.
Something I was always curious about was the schools in Hong Kong. Since I didn’t speak Cantonese, I decided to go to an international school. Obviously I had to go to the best school around, so I went to Sha Tin College. Unfortunately I couldn’t find where they were, so I went with my second choice; ESF Discovery College. But then I found out that it was a fifty minute drive, so I ended up just going to one nearby. Some rusty old school called Renaissance College.
When I arrived, I was mobbed by crowds of students, all wanting an autograph. I took my time slowly to give each one their own treatment, which took a significant amount of time. After being interviewed by a couple of TV stations, I decided to get some rest. I ducked underneath the mob, and ran as fast as I could. I ran up a couple stairs, and went through some doors until I thought I was safe. I had no idea where I was going, all I knew was that I needed a break. Eventually I found a spot that seemed safe, and sat down to catch my breath. That’s when I heard a voice.
“Hey Obama.”
I looked up, and saw a group of teenagers – about six of them. There was no one else nearby, and I was sure that I had escaped the crowd. I was taken back; I had no idea where they came from. Still, I stood up, expecting to have to give them a couple of photos or sign a couple autographs. Instead, they took me by surprise by asking me a question.
“We would love to interview you for our very credible news source, The RCHK Leeks!”
Intrigued by this group of smiling students, I accepted their offer.
“Follow us”
Obligated, I followed them. They took me through a couple of hallways, some stairs I think, through a couple of doors, at one point we went down a slide I’m pretty sure. Eventually, they came to a stop. I looked at my surroundings. We appeared to be in some laboratory of some kind.
“Please sit down, Mr Obama”
I sat down. They were preparing a couple of things. I saw a couple of notepads, some laptops, some equipment. There were a couple things that struck out to me as odd. There were some beakers full of liquid. It looked like they had been doing some experiments of some sort. I saw a student pour a strange pink liquid into a glass cup. I saw another student at the doors; they seemed to be locking themselves in. This all seemed sketchy to me, but I realized I was surrounded. There was a student behind me, a student in front of me, a student to the side of me. There were students guarding the doors, so I couldn’t escape.
“Here, take a drink before the interview so your throat isn’t dry.”
I looked at the cup that was handed to me. The liquid was transparent and colourless; it seemed to be water. I was surprised it wasn’t the strange pink liquid that the other student was making. The drink I had in my hand seemed harmless, so I took a sip. It was water. I held the cup to my lips and poured the rest of the contents into my mouth.
“Ok, we’re ready to begin!”
That’s when the interview started. It was going well, the student’s had solid questions but they seemed a bit off….and strange. I answered their questions truthfully and honestly, no matter how uncomfortable they made me feel. They seemed glad to have this opportunity to interview me. I guess I was the 44th president of the United States
After around five minutes of questioning, I started to feel nauseous. I was slurring my words, but the students didn’t seem to notice. Must be the jet lag or something I thought. But eventually, I started losing my sense of balance, nearly falling out of my chair. I felt drowsy, and my vision was blurry. I couldn’t tell which way was right or left or up and down, so I fell out of my chair with a large bang. The students laughed in delight. I tried telling them to go get help, but I couldn’t speak; my throat was closed. They howled and they screeched.
Then I saw the strangest thing ever. The students...they started shrinking. They grew these spikes in their backs, their eyes started to change, their teeth got sharper and sharper. It can’t be. I thought. But I knew what was happening. This band of six students that called themselves RCHK Leeks were in reality a group of gremlins that had just spiked my drink. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the sight of six furry creatures jumping around on the tables pounding their chests.
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When I came to it, I was in a dimly lit room. I was strapped to a chair, hands were duct-taped to the armrests and my chest taped to the backrest. In front of me was a table with a laptop on it. The laptop simply had a new google document open, a page that I would soon grow accustomed to.
Suddenly, I heard the howling of what I can only describe as a crowd of forty year old basement-living Alvin the Chipmunks that had discovered my secret collection of furry pornography and were thoroughly aroused. Out from the shadows came the 6 gremlins from before: RCHK Leeks. They roared and they laughed, they howled and they barked. They jumped up and down, pounding their chests. One came forward and spoke.
“Write for us Obama, write for us!”
“WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITE,” the rest chanted.
I looked in shock. The laptop in front of me started typing by itself. It said: “chair”. Confused and scared, I started writing. What else could I do? I started writing about chairs. I started talking about how uncomfortable they were, and how we should design a new chair. It was far from perfect, but the horde of furry creatures seemed to like it. They all murmured in agreement and retreated back to the shadows. After a couple of minutes, they came back out with food. It looked like some meat, but I couldn’t tell what meat it was until I saw the bones. There was a giant human skeleton right in front of me. I shrieked in surprise and disgust.
“What is that?”
“Your food, human.” they said. They brought the plate closer to me until it was right on the table. I refused to eat, but I had no choice. They forcefully opened my mouth and stuffed the remains into my throat. I coughed. I couldn’t breathe. They forced it all the way down until it reached my stomach. I gulped. Tears streamed down my cheek.
“Write,” they said. And so I wrote. This became a routine. I would write an article every week, and if they liked it, they would give me back an ounce of freedom. The first time they got rid of the duct tapes on my arms. The second time I was no longer strapped to the chair. At this point, I am able to roam freely, but only in this room. I have no idea where I am.
Every day, they all go out for thirty minutes to the market. I am unsure what they buy there, all I know is that they leave.
“BOAMBA BOBAMA BOBAMA BOBAMA”
This is not a joke. This is a message to anyone who will listen. I am currently being held hostage by six gremlins known as the RCHK Leeks. I am unaware of my surroundings. I believe I am held deep underground.
“BOBAMA BOBAMA BOBAMA BOBAMA”
Oh f*** I hear them. I gotta wrap this up.
They refer to me as a “minion” now. From what I’ve been able to make out, there are 5 other minions like me. I believe we are all going through the same thing.
“BOBAMA BOBAMA BOBAMA BOBAMA”
Please, anyone, come help me. I do not know how sustainable my current diet is. I do not know when and if they wish to kill me. They’re getting closer.
“BOAMA BOBAMA BOBAMA BOBAMA”
All I know is that I cannot take any more Alvin the Chipmunk screams anymore. Please send someone plea–
“BOBAMA BOBAMA BOBAMA BOBAMA”
F*** they’re her–
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