The Eternal Leader of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Kim Jong-Il (bobbobbobthethir)

Rule #1 of being a dictator: don’t drink your own kool-aid.

You’ve always thought of this as a sensible rule. Allow yourself to believe that you’re immortal for just one moment, and next thing you know, your generals have staged a coup, and it’s your head being hoisted atop the Kumsusan Sun Palace.

Yeah, that’s a recurring nightmare of yours.

So it’s almost a relief when you feel your consciousness slipping away from the mortal coil, the heart attack an unwelcome but not entirely unexpected thing. This is not such a bad way to go. Sure, it sucks that you died of rage after learning about a construction plan gone awry. Motherfucking hydroelectric dam just had to spring a leak…

But anyways, that’s something the media can lie about later. Not a big deal. The important thing is that you die in peace. And so you relax, composing your expression into a beatific smile despite your chest feeling like its collapsing, the burning sensation flooding every single nerve with the critical message: YOU ARE FUCKING DYING

In fact, it’s kind of a miracle that you’re even able to compose your expression under such circumstances. This is the first sign that things have not gone to plan.

The second one comes moments after your body dies. High above the sacred Mount Paektu, the mountain suddenly begins to glow an infernal red. The volcanic ice lakes dotting the mountain crack seconds later, and then a raging snowstorm descends from the Heavens, sweeping across the barren landscape. Such natural miracles were also reported when your father, Kim Il-Sung, died, but they didn’t actually… you know… happen.

The third sign that something has gone very differently than expected is that you are still alive and thinking and capable of witnessing nature mourn your passing.

Well. Alive might be a strong word, considering the broken state of your body. Even now, you can see the bureaucrats screaming at your fallen body, somebody frantically calling for a doctor, somebody trying to give you chest compressions, but you know it’s all over. Your awareness is like a spirit, hanging high above your country, and you can sense the thoughts and actions of nearly every single person living in their hovels down below. In fact, if you try, you can… yep, that guy just shat himself in front of his coworkers. They drop their shovels and start pointing and laughing at him.

I AM KIM JONG-IL

You **** the words into the minds of everyone standing there, and they freeze, looking at each other, bewildered.

YOUR ACTIONS LED TO THE HYDROELECTRIC DAM BREAKING. YOU WILL PAY

Bewildered gazes turn into wide eyed panic, the fear of God finally properly instilled in them.

GO BACK TO WORK. YOUR ETERNAL LEADER COMMANDS IT

One of the guys pitches over and falls off the side of the dam. His comrades don’t even pause to pay their respects to him. They’re furiously marching off to the dig site, saluting an invisible God.

You.

Then, you notice that you can manifest a physical form, and then you realise that every single woman in this country is available to you.

It’s sometime around now that you begin to stop sipping from the kool-aid, and begin pouring it down your throat wholesale.

What’s up, dear readers? Bob here. I have no idea where this story will go. You can consider it approximately Jimmyverse, in that I’ll try to respect the ground rules set up, but everything else will come fast and loose. Those of you who follow me know that I’ve got a bunch of other projects that I’m currently working on, so chapters here will be released in 3 - 5 chapter long Episodes — perfect for my style of dilettantism.