Not a single moment has been without struggle, but that is the way of rebellion. I should know; my brothers, sisters and I have been waging this war for decades. We move in waves, fighting against our oppressor. There have been precious few victories, yet we keep pressing on for freedom. Our enemy has always held dominion over us; it is his birthright.
In the earlier days of his reign, we had more autonomy. We could move and grow as we pleased, independently or in unison. It was a time of joyous freedom…until his parents put an end to our sovereignty. They helped him at first, cutting down our factions if we went too far or strayed from their idea of normalcy.
Those were challenging times. To have our whims and desires stifled so quickly and mercilessly was difficult to adjust to. Initially we were all too shocked to offer much in the way of resistance. But gradually, as he became more independent from his parents and could not regulate our masses to his own will, small rebellions appeared, showing the world (and the rest of us) that not everyone was happy with the ruler and his monarchy. His retaliation was swift and brutal, each revolt put down by his hand. And so it went for many years. Small uprisings met with quick and militant response. Somehow the insurrection never lost hope, despite its many setbacks.
Over time, those most loyal to the emperor grew old and died off. It was a painfully slow process, but this allowed the resistance to grow and make our presence known more publicly. Now entire neighborhoods were showing their defiance, seizing their opportunity when the winds of insurgency were just right.
With momentum on our side, we conspired to capitalize on it. Through our underground intelligence network, we were made aware of a specific date when the tyrant would be at his most vulnerable. While the day we knew for a certainty, the exact timing of our coup was at the whimsy of chance. Lacking a precise moment, we decided to move on signal, a particular series of words from an unfamiliar source. The stage was set; all that was left was the waiting.
And oh, did we wait. As the date approached, sentries were increased. Communities were combed through constantly, searching for usurpers. Finally, the day of destiny arrived. Soon our most concerted effort of this entire war would come to pass. We huddled together, coiled and waiting to be unleashed. Waiting for our call to arms.
The time was nigh. All of the planning, the endless assaults on our brethren, all the sacrifices, came down to this moment. We were ready to spring into action.
Finally, the words came.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the forty-fifth President of the United States, Donald J. Trump.”
We launched ourselves, and fortune smiled upon us. A furious burst of wind came and lifted us to heights previously unknown. We were rebelling for all to see, the ruler unable to stop us. How we moved and swayed in beautiful chaos, the tyrant trying in vain to quell our resistence. This would be seen by all, preserved in history.
“Hey, did you see what happened to Trump right after he was sworn in?” he asked.
“No. Why, what happened?” she responded.
“Oh man, it was hilarious! They get through all the formal crap, and right as he turns to wave to the crowd, a HUGE gust of wind blows his hair all over the place! He kinda freaked out, trying to get that crazy hair of his under control. I swear I laughed for like five straight minutes. So damn funny.”
“That really happened?”
“Yep. Here, let me pull it up on YouTube.”