Are you pleased to meet me? Do you know my name? No? Well let me help you.
But first, I want you to know that I am everything they say I am. A son of a bitch. A bastard. A cad. A racist. A sexist. A liar. A cheat. A con artist. A criminal. I am deliciously wicked.
That doesn’t matter though. It doesn’t seem to bother most of you. You still love me. You worship me. I can say anything and you believe me. My wish is your command. If I ask you to storm the citadel, you’ll do it. Without question. Without hesitation.
I am very smart, you know. I have a big brain. I know the best words. I know more than the generals. More than the scientists. More than the doctors. More than the pathetic politicians.
The lemmings, they flock to my rallies. They hang on my every word. They kiss my ass. They lick my boots. They do my bidding. My enemies — the opposition, the press, the disloyal — are their enemies. Isn’t that something?
On my say so my minions will gleefully destroy democracy, topple the institutions. They will even kill for me if I ask them to.
But while some call me corrupt, wicked, evil, and even delusional, to my supporters I am a hero, a god. And they will do what I tell them to do.
I hope by now you guessed my name. It shouldn’t be puzzling you, because you know the nature of my game.
And it’s a deadly game, isn’t it?
Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver prompt. I was inspired by Stephanie Colpron, who has recently taken over this prompt from Michael. I was also inspired by Jim Adams’ response to this same prompt.