Larry zips past in intermittent bursts for the fifth time in an hour, somehow moving in rhythmic-sync to my blinking cursor. He’s been in pursuit of Sam for some time now. There have been a few close calls; I feel his hard work will pay off soon enough.
Meanwhile outside, news filters in that Duterte has won the election and is the new president of the Philippines. The same Duterte who is in favour of bringing back killing squads. He was the best candidate available apparently, but he looks a nice chap on the several thousand posters around town, so it’s not all bad. On election day everything pretty much comes to a standstill, many people not going to work and places closing. We’ve been warned several times to stay away from large crowds or protests on the day; luckily I made it to the hospital a few days ago to get my medication, so I can stay in sanctuary.
More days pass on the inside, and Larry is toying with new ideas. He will stay still for many hours, in the hope that Sam will approach on his own accord. Alas, it has not worked. Larry is pale green, and the wall is white. I’ve tried explaining this to him, but he seems to care not. It’s the last time I’ll offer my tactical knowledge. Larry has now scooted off, and is thinking up another plan. I retire to bed and take my next lot of tablets.
Many more days pass on the outside, and the news this time is from America. It’s the news we’d all feared – Donald Trump has won presidency. Larry looks at me funny, as a chill is sent down his spine. The very fear this news induces is so strong it appears omnipresent, reaching even the reptile world. His first act as president is to ban the Mexican wave at all sporting events, as well as the word ‘equality’, as he doesn’t quite fully understand the connotations of the word or know how to use it in a sentence, which quite frankly scares him. America is renamed ‘Trumpsonia’, and all Americans are known as Trumpsonians.
In the weeks that follow, a close-knit clique of avid supporters rise up and take control as his henchmen, spreading fear and chaos, as well as well-informed health seminars. Hearing this back in the Philippines, Duterte’s backing start their own gang, the Dutertians. Words have been sent back and forth, and things are primed for war.
Back in the apartment, Larry’s futile attempts rack up. He’s starting to look down in the dumps, as Sam is mocking him from high up, making rude words out of his webbing that mock Larry personally and his reptile sensibilities. After several encouragements and a couple of pep talks later, Larry is back in the game. He’s worked the angles, picked up speed and is closing in. Sam doesn’t have any clear way out, and it could be game over. I stop typing my blog just in case I miss anythi…
The Trumpsonians and Dutertians have set off for one another, and meet at a midway point of Hawaii. Dutertians approach from the West, Trumpsonians from the East. They meet in the middle, and a tense standoff ensues. The awkward subsequent silence even makes the surrounding nature seem noisy. Both sides soon come to realise that neither leader has any experience in war, nor knows how to actually start one. Instead, boasts are sent back and forth between the two, finally settling on something they both take pride in. A table and two chairs are laid before them, ready to go mano a mano in the ultimate game. The game to end all games. The weapon of choice – Operation.
And thus begins the decider for the fate of the world.
Duterte goes for the wishbone, ‘MEEEP!’
Trump picks for the funny bone, ‘MEEEP!’
Duterte opts for the toupee… a stern glance is shot across the table.
It soon becomes apparent that both leaders were overconfident in their boasts, as they prove to be equally rubbish. A change of game – Dominos. They set up similarly impressive structures, and knock them down in record time. Some henchmen from either side explain this isn’t actually how you play Dominos, and they sheepishly tidy up and change once more – Scrabble. Futile sighs of despair emanate throughout the crowd as both proceed to continuously make up words. Everyone settles down for what is sure to be a long evening.
Larry has the upper hand, and has penetrated Sam’s last line of defence. No more webbing, just a short sprint of ground to cover to finally claim his prize. He starts to think maybe things could be discussed, or an agreement could be made. He continues his approach as Sam holds his ground, albeit petrified. Three inches left. Two inches. One.
A knock at the door; It’s Jamie.
He’s returned from his weekend in Calicoan. He suggests I should step outside and get some fresh air. Sunlight reaches my retinas for the first time in an age, as I breathe in some warm humid air. No more darkness to dwell in out here. No potential third world war.
No more walls.