Rock Paper Scissors

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

A small little story in a parallel universe where decisions are made by rock paper scissors.

Submitted: November 21, 2017

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Submitted: November 21, 2017




In 1949, various countries convened in Geneva. After the atrocities of the past decade they decided something must be done. Various representatives from all around the globe gathered around the crucial historical document. Each added their own signature. The title of the document itself ?

‘ Agreements and treaties of the game by the name of Rock Paper Scissors to resolve military/political conflicts‘

The bill was passed 74 yea, to 12 nay. A resounding success.


January 2018, the world holds their breath as American-North Korean relations begin to crumble. Trump in one corner, Kim Jong Un in the other, both worthy combatants.

Trump leaned forward, his hands together and his elbows resting on his knees, in a soft leather seat, in the back of his armoured limousine.He looked out of the window as the snowy Korean countryside slowly turned to suburbs and then to dense apartment blocks.

“ T minus 5 minutes Mr.President !” called the driver from the front.

Trump didn’t reply. He stared at his polished shoes, trying to focus , remembering his training, his strategies, counter strategies.

“Paper, then rock, then paper again , then scissors “ he whispered to himself over and over again. As the defining moment of his presidency drew closer he began to sweat. “ paper rock paper scissors, paper rock paper scissors….. “


He was lifted from this trance as the limo whined to a halt. His guards took their positions around him, and after a tactical “ 3,2,1 “ threw the door open. The cab was suddenly invaded by the cold wind and the roar of onlookers. His security crew stood outside, their eyes darting amongst nearby rooftops. Trump took a deep breath, and casually stepped out, fixed his coat, his tie, his hair, and with a nod , began striding towards the so called ‘Central Luxury Mansion’. Inside awaited god-king Kim, curled up in his den.


 The roar of the crowd began to grow quieter in his mind . One phrase took over yet again ,  “ paper rock paper scissors, paper rock paper scissors “

He saw the red banners , the depictions of hammers, statues of previous rulers, boo-ing Koreans , all surrounding him . He didn’t care. He told himself he couldn’t lose, he didn’t know how.


 He arrived at the ornate front doors of the ‘Central Luxury Mansion’ . Gargantuan, and seemingly solid gold. Without a sound , they swung open and, cracking a smug smile, Trump looked back at the 100,000 faces, and stepped inside. He was greeted by a hurried Korean lady in a red dress.

“ Welcome Mr.President, our supreme leader is in the next room. Please allow me to take you to him “

Trump looked around at his guards , one of them nodded, still wearing his sunglasses. Trump looked back at her “ Let’s do this “ he proclaimed, throwing his arms out, and they all started marching down the cold marble corridor. They arrived at another, less impressive set of wooden doors, she turned the handle, opened them and stood to one side, bowing her head.


Inside , Trump was taken aback when he saw steps down to a large boxing ring. Kim had already taken his place in the red corner, surrounded by a dozen officials. He somewhat resembled a mafia boss, dressed in a shining black suit, with gold trim and cuffs, all under a black hooded robe. His hair was slicked straight back and he frowned at Trump. It was dead silent , and after a rare moment of hesitation , a slightly less confident Trump strutted down the marble stairs, his shoes clacking, sending echoes around the entire room as he went. Looking around himself, he could see the room was entirely dark, except for spotlights directly above the ring. Clearly they both shared love for a dramatic scene.


Trump’s emissaries gathered at the blue corner of the ring. Trump himself, no stranger to such a scene, stepped through the ropes in a cat like manner, maintaining eye contact with Kim Jong Un as he did so. He sat on the little stool provided, and cracking his knuckles began mentally reciting “ paper rock paper scissors, paper rock paper scissors” yet again. A referee in black and white stripes now stood in the middle, and ushered for the two challengers to stand. Kim slowly rose from his stool, paced into the centre and hopping gently from foot to foot , had one of his advisors take his robe. He raised his hands slightly and took a strange boxing stance in the centre.


It was now Trump’s turn, he rose, just as slowly as Kim, if not slower, really making a point of it, and strutted into the middle, again fixing his coat on his shoulders, and pretended to adjust his tie. He stood a mere three feet from Kim, they stared at each other, unblinking, unbreathing. Officials on both sides went quiet, and just watched. The atmosphere was suddenly thick and nobody wanted to make a sound, Trump began to sweat , he hadn’t felt this on edge since doing a best of 5 against Hillary for the presidency a year and a half previous.


Both leaders took a step back. “ ROUND - ONE ! “ shouted the referee.

“BEST OF THREE, ON GO- SAM-THREE, DU-TWO,HANA-ONE , GO “ Trump threw a flat palm of paper, as if drawing a revolver on his opponent, he looked straight into Kim’s chestnut eyes, Kim stared back. The two leaders shifted their gaze down. Kim had thrown scissors. “ Fool “ he whispered to Trump, before he nonchalantly strolled back into his corner, to a dozen cheering generals. Trump still stood there in the centre, dead still. His mouth hung open slightly. He blinked himself back to reality and sat back down in his own corner, slightly dazed. His officials patted sweat from his forehead and cheeks, offering him water and squeezing his shoulders. One of his guards began giving him advice, but Trump stared at the canvas floor in front of him. He had never lost an opener like that. For the first time in his life he was truly rattled . It wasn’t over yet though of course, so he shook his head and stood up again.


Both contenders met in the middle for a second time. The referee shouted counted down and yelled “ GO “ for a second time. Trump thrust his fist in front of him, crushing the communist scissors. This blow to the enemy had restored his faith and he smiled smugly at Kim once again. He winked and turned on his heels. He returned to his corner to deadpan emissaries. They hadn’t won just yet. Trump had already decided what he was going to play next, so waved off any advice from his pit crew. He instead took a hip flask from a pocket inside his jacket and took a sip, if Kim was on home turf, then he decided he might as well be allowed a little bit of home too.


The billionaire businessman and totalitarian emperor met once again in the centre. Both sweating now, in the final round. Trump had to squint slightly, the spotlights beating down on him. He took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles. This was for all the marbles.


“  GO “ -




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