The Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil (3 page)

“AH, THE MEMORIES. AH, THE DAYS OF MY YOUTH.”

“There was, sir,” said Elmer. “She died just last year.”

It was true. Mona had died last year and been buried in the portion of Inner Horner displaced when Inner Horner shrunk, so that, as they spoke, Mona was lying directly beneath the President.

“Oh dear,” the President said. “Mona dead? It seems that only yesterday she was a little cutie, kissing my then-blond mustaches, and now look at me, all white-haired and forgetful and fat, and look at her, all dead and so forth! My advice to you is: Don’t get old! Have I said that? Remain young! Because once you get old you start misremembering, for example, that there were apple trees and rushing streams in your youth, when in fact the country where you spent your semester abroad was only a deep ugly gash in the earth.”

“Actually, sir,” said Cal, “even yesterday we had an apple tree and a stream.”

“What’s that?” said the President, looking confused. “Then I should’ve come yesterday, yes? Is that what you’re saying? And Mona? Was Mona here yesterday too? Did Mona die just this morning, and I therefore barely missed her, and therefore, had I come only a few hours sooner, she could’ve stroked my mustaches one last time?”

“Sir,” said Cal, “it was Phil who did this. Phil took our tree and our stream.”

“Was it Phil who took Mona?” said the President. “Who is this Phil anyway? Is Mona being kept with your tree and your stream, by this Phil character? I wish you’d make yourselves clear. I’m not so young anymore. First you say she’s dead, and then you say she’s with the stream and the tree, being held hostage by this Phil fellow.”

“Sir,” said Cal, “Mona’s dead.”

“I understand that perfectly well!” thundered the President. “I’m not stupid, you know, just forgetful and shaky and cantankerous. I understand everything you’ve said to me. Mona is dead, killed by Phil, who then stole your tree and stream and moon, the rascal, although how the moon came to be your property, I’m not quite sure. You people are certainly proprietary. The moon, I believe, is for us all. Haven’t I often said that?”

“You have, sir,” said a Presidential Advisor whose face was a mirror with two shifty eyes set in it. “You have often said that the moon and the stars are for us all.”

“And the stars, yes,” said the President. “I forgot about the stars being for us all. Write that down. For my next speech. Moon, stars, for us all. That’s good.”

Just then Phil came clanking up, accompanied by the Outer Horner Militia.

“Mr. President,” said Phil. “I beg your pardon, but these people are slandering me.”

“Who are you?” said the President.

“I’m Phil, sir,” said Phil.

“I don’t see why you had to kill Mona, Phil,” said the President sadly. “She was a lovely girl.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” said Phil.

“He didn’t kill anyone,” said Elmer. “Mona just died on her own.”

“For the love of God, man!” the President shouted at Elmer. “Then why claim such a thing? Why accuse an innocent man of murder? That is a very serious accusation. That’s one thing I remember about you people, from my youth, you were always quite frivolous. Take Mona, for example, she was quite frivolous, kissing me like that, and me a stranger, and a foreigner. Kiss kiss kiss, like some sort of crazy woman. So frivolous. Not that I minded! No, I liked it, Mona’s frivolousness, it was the best part about her. But this level of frivolousness is something altogether different. Kissing my mustaches is one thing, but falsely accusing Phil of murder, even Mona wasn’t frivolous enough to do that, and believe me, she was plenty frivolous. Now tell the truth: Having established that Phil did not kill Mona, did he or did he not do the other things you slandered him with, that is, steal your tree and stream and moon?”

“Just the stream and the tree,” said Wanda.

“So you retract your accusation regarding the moon?” said the President disgustedly. “So frivolous. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Sir, with all due respect,” said Phil. “I did take the stream and the tree, but I was only attempting to enforce your decree.”

“I’m glad to see someone enforcing my decrees,” said the President. “Back in the capital they’re always ignoring my decrees. Tell me, which decree were you enforcing? Was it a good decree?”

“The Short-Term Residency Zone Tax Decree,” said Phil. “A very good decree.”

“I don’t remember that one,” the President said to his Advisors. “It sounds like a good one but I don’t remember it. Did I decree that?”

“Well, sir, it depends,” said the mirror-faced Advisor. “What we need to ask ourselves is, what, in general, has been the reaction to this Tax? Have the people been in favor of the Tax? If so, then it is my recollection that you did indeed make such a decree. On the other hand, if the people have been unhappy with this Tax, then I very clearly remember you pounding the table, denouncing someone for even suggesting that you make such a lamebrained decree. It is clear, sir, that we must, to honor our democracy, go to the people, in order to determine just what it is you decreed.”

“MAY I SUGGEST WE GO TO THE PEOPLE?”

“So be it,” said the President grandly. “Let us see what I said.”

The Advisors rushed around polling every Outer Hornerite they could find. That is, they polled the Outer Horner Militia (Freeda, Melvin, and Larry) and Leon the Border Guard and Phil himself.

When the votes were counted, it was determined that the people of Outer Horner were unanimous in their support of the Short-Term Residency Zone Tax.

“You know, sir, in light of that vote, I just remembered something,” said the Advisor. “You did indeed decree that. It was a Thursday. You decreed the Short-Term Residency Zone Tax, and I remember I congratulated you, and then you thanked me for helping you come up with that decree. For sort of laying the conceptual groundwork.”

“Well, I thank you again,” said the President. “Because look how popular you have made me with my people. They look so happy. They look as if they’re about to burst into applause.”

And Phil and Leon and the Outer Horner Militia burst into applause.

“Mr. President,” Phil said when the applause had died down. “May I also just say how proud I am to have been appointed your Special Border Activities Coordinator?”

“Well of course you’re proud,” said the President. “Who wouldn’t be? That’s an important job. And I’m glad I appointed you that. If in fact I did. Did I? Did I do that in conjunction with that decree about that Tax thingie?”

“May I suggest we go to the people again?” said the Advisor.

“By all means,” said the President, still very much moved by the standing ovation he had recently received.

So once again Freeda, Melvin, Larry, Leon the Border Guard, and Phil himself were polled, and it was determined that the people of Outer Horner were unanimously pleased with the idea of Phil being Special Border Activities Coordinator, and so it was determined, by the President’s Advisors, that the President had, in fact, several months ago, appointed Phil to that post, and there was some concern, among the Advisors, that Phil did not appear at present to be wearing his Presidential Appointment Medal. Fortunately an extra was found, hanging over the awning of the youngest Advisor’s exposed spleen, and Phil bent low, and the President hung the Presidential Appointment Medal around Phil’s neck.

“Now as for you people,” the President said sternly to the Inner Hornerites. “I suggest that, in the future, you refrain from all frivolity and false accusations and obey Phil, who has already done so much for you, and will, I’m sure, continue to do so much for you, including, perhaps, someday, if you remain nonfrivolous, obtaining some replacement trees and a replacement stream, to replace those you so frivolously lost.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Phil.

“No, thank you, Phil,” said the President. “For doing such a tremendous job of enforcing my decrees and calling me out here to see what a tremendous job of enforcing my decrees you’ve been doing. It does me good to see a young man enforcing my decrees. Sort of a protégé!”

Then the Advisors loaded the President back on to the Presidential Board and, straining under the weight, set off for the capital.

“Goodbye, Phil, dear boy!” the President shouted. “Keep up the good work!”

FORTUNATELY AN EXTRA PRESIDENTIAL
APPOINTMENT

Next morning Phil and the Outer Horner Militia arrived at the border to find the entire population of Inner Horner heaped up in a tremendous teetering pile of grimaces and side-paddles and Thrumton Specialty Valves and cowlicks and rear ends and receding hairlines, a pile that began in the hole that was formerly Inner Horner and rose some thirty feet in the air, leaning precariously out over Outer Horner.

“My God, look at those people,” said Melvin.

“So uncouth,” said Larry.

“Animals,” said Melvin. “How do they live with themselves?”

“I mean, look at us,” said Freeda. “You don’t see us piling on like that.”

“They seem sort of imprisoned by their own dark urges,” said Larry.

Everyone looked at Larry, impressed.

“No wonder we treat them so unfairly,” said Melvin, trying to counter Larry.

“Not that we treat them unfairly, Melvin,” said Phil a little sternly.

“Oh, we treat them fairly,” said Melvin. “I’m just saying, you know, think how fairly we’d treat them if they didn’t behave like uncouth animals imprisoned by their dark surges.”

“Urges,” corrected Larry.

“What are you schmoes doing up there anyway?” shouted Leon the Border Guard.

“As long as we stay out of the Short-Term Residency Zone, we don’t have to pay the Tax,” shouted someone from the pile. “Isn’t that right?”

The Outer Hornerites looked at Phil, the recently appointed Special Border Activities Coordinator.

“Well of course that’s right,” said Phil. “Why would we charge you a tax for being in our country if you weren’t even in our country, you morons?”

Just then the big pile of Inner Hornerites came tumbling down into Outer Horner.

This was unprecedented. Never before had so many Inner Hornerites infiltrated so deeply into Outer Horner. Leon frantically rang the loud buzzer that meant Invasion in Progress and the Outer Horner Militia (Freeda, Melvin, and Larry) quickly outflanked and surrounded the entire population of Inner Horner.

“This is an outrage!” Phil shouted. “Halt! Advance no farther! Invade us no more! Do you surrender? Surrender at once! Drop your weapons! Does everyone see how forceful I’m being? As Special Border Activities Coordinator, I command you!”

The Inner Hornerites had no weapons, and no desire to invade Outer Horner, and were still dizzy from their fall, although a few of the less-dizzy Inner Hornerites were, in spite of themselves, sneaking dazed, curious glances over at the Outer Horner Cafe.

“We’re not invading anybody,” said Elmer. “We just tipped over.”

“Return to the Short-Term Residency Zone at once!” shouted Phil. “With your hands up!”

So the Inner Hornerites raised their hands and stepped back over the green string into the Short-Term Residency Zone.

“Now that we have totally subdued you,” Phil shouted, “allow me to remind you that you still owe us four smolokas.”

“Well, we still don’t have it,” said Elmer. “You know very well we don’t.”

“Larry,” shouted Phil. “Inventory their resources!”

Larry looked at Phil blankly.

“I thought we already took everything,” Larry whispered.

“Look harder, Larry,” said Phil. “Exhibit more vigilance.”

Larry looked harder, exhibiting more vigilance.

“Well sir,” he finally said. “The only thing I could find? Other than additional dirt? And I’m not sure this counts? Is that they’re wearing clothes, on their bodies, sir.”

“Well done, Larry,” said Phil. “An excellent observation. Clothes are indeed a resource.”

“Wait a minute,” said Cal. “You’re not proposing to take our clothes?”

“If you take our clothes, we’ll be naked,” said Wanda.

“But at least you’ll have your taxes paid,” said Phil, and gestured to Leon, who pushed his way into the Short-Term Residency Zone and started removing Old Gus’s shirt.