My Time as a Member of the (Model) U.N.
(((Based on a true story)))
People never recognize genius when they see it. Not even in me, where it's practically streaming from my pores like the grease that some of these other idiots produce. I can't even open my mouth while lying down, or I'm liable to drown in my own genius. It's a burden I carry, yes indeed.
You'd think that they would appreciate me a little more, try to be a little more accepting. But no! I guess it's true that true genii are never fully appreciated until after their deaths. But I can't wait that long, I have things to do, places to go! My future is far too busy for me to be waiting around for a bunch of half-wits!
Honestly, the level of intellect that I brought to the Model U.N. is of a kind that would never have been realized without me, unless all the other delegates decided to invest in brainwave-enhancing head leeches. And even then it would be a close-run thing.
But do they appreciate my overly generous contributions? No! I suppose they're jealous, which I can't really blame them for. If I were them, I would be jealous of me too. But can't they just be quietly resentful like everybody else? Why on Earth must they take it out on me by refusing to recognize my right to speak? The ignominy of a political prodigy such as myself being forced to sit and listen to my inferiors endlessly debate (and not even interestingly, mind you) is overwhelming.
The sheer boredom of it all, having to hear their idiotic discussions incessantly, is almost mind-numbing, although of course it would take something far more potent than that (a psychoelectric pulse, perhaps? That might actually work; I shall have to invest in a tinfoil hat for defense) to actually make numb my mind. But I sit there nonetheless, thinking of flawless rebuttals to any point they can make before they're even done talking. And consistently, they refuse to recognize my right to speak.
Well, no longer. Today is the day that I take my rightful place as Supreme Leader of the Model U.N., and ruler of the world that it represents. Today is the day that I rise up, and show these fools that they were very unwise to attempt to put down a politician of my caliber. Already, my troops have been mobilized.
A unit of five approached the front door of the highschool. The leader held up a hand and called a halt. He was tall and bulky for a fifteen-year-old, standing a good foot taller than I at the height of six feet and two inches. He had short, pale red hair cut in an almost military style, and like all the others wore camouflage fatigues and a black plastic M16 slung over his back. He wasn't the brightest of my army, but he did cut an imposing figure at their head, and the code of best-friendship demanded that I give him the honor of leading them in battle. Besides, he probably would have hurt me if I didn't. He went by the name of Kieran.
He surveyed the assembled army with a critical eye. John stood half at attention, assault rifle cradled loosely in his left arm. He was as tall as Kieran, but far more lanky, cool and composed as ever in the face of upcoming battle. Next was Lewis, a muscular, blond-haired and blue-eyed commando, looking like an Aryan wet dream in his uniform. Standing off to the side was Cam, spouting some gibberish like he always does, his curly brown hair as distressingly messy as ever. He was the "absent-minded genius" archetype, blindingly intelligent but lacking in common sense, and always going off about some obscure piece of historical trivia that nobody really cared about. The final member of the squad was Sean. Sean wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed but he made up for this with his... well... actually, I have no idea what Sean was doing there, I think he slipped in the back. I dunno, whatever. He could play the guitar pretty well.
Satisfied with his inspection, Kieran began issuing orders. "Sergeants Branagan and Juric, you're with me. Lieutenant Kerrebrock, you and Private Britt will take the windows. When the signal comes, you know what to do."
