Illegal Immigration: Or how I brought the constitution to a fantasy world.

Created
Status
Ongoing
Watchers
16
Recent readers
0

Illegal Immigration: Or how I brought THE CONSTITUTION to a fantasy world.

Any of you seen that one Leafy video where he complains about all anime protags being the exact same fifteen-year-old with black hair and no personality and asks for an anime with a fifty-fifty-old hunter from Louisiana with strong opinions about immigration? Yeah, that.

Important Disclaimer: I mean no hate to fifty-five-year-old hunters from Louisiana with strong opinions on immigration.

This story will be satirizing both righties and lefties as I am a filthy, milk toast fence-sitter with no strong convictions who should just decide already!
First Amendment: The right of the people to peacefully assemble

ninjastar

(Verified Taoist Immortal)
Location
Your mom's house
Illegal Immigration: Or how I brought THE CONSTITUTION to a fantasy world.

Any of you seen that one Leafy video where he complains about all anime protags being the exact same fifteen-year-old with black hair and no personality and asks for an anime with a fifty-fifty-old hunter from Louisiana with strong opinions about immigration? Yeah, that.

Important Disclaimer: I mean no hate to fifty-five-year-old hunters from Louisiana with strong opinions on immigration. This story will be satirizing both righties and lefties as I am a filthy, milk toast fence-sitter with no strong convictions who should just decide already!
▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂


Willian(call me Bill) Landry clutched his AR-15 nervously, adjusting his MAGA hat. He had been hunting in a forest in Lousiana when he had suddenly found himself surrounded by blue light.

Once the light faded he found himself in a strange throne room.

"What going on? Where am I?" he shouted.

"Please calm yourself, hero," an elderly man sitting on a throne said. "We have summoned you to ask for your help killing the demon lord!"

"What?! You summoned me? Well, you didn't ask me, now did you?" Bill shouted angrily.

"We beg your forgiveness, oh hero. The prophecy says only a summoned Hero can kill the from the lord. We've summoned hundreds, but none of them have succeeded!"

"I see what your problem is," Bill said.

"You do? What is it? How can we fix it?" the king asked doubtfully.

"Your problem is IMMIRAGTION! You keep outsourcing your labour to illegal immigrants? How do you expect to stimulate the economy, you fool?! By using cheap immigrant labour you deprive your own country of funds and slow innovation! I refuse to help you on principle!" Bill shouted. "Now send me back home!"

"I'm afraid we can't exactly do that . . ." the king said sorrowfully. "You see-"

"So you can't even deport illegals? No wonder your country is failing. I suggest you relocate funds from healthcare and education to deportation," Bill advised sagely.

"Healthcare? Education?" the king asked puzzled. "We don't have that here. Only nobles can afford such things."

Bill's eyes widened.

"You mean . . . privatized healthcare and education?" he asked in wonder. "Is it my birthday?"

"As I was saying, the portal to send you home will only appear when the demon lord is defeated!"

Bill frowned, raising his AR-15.

"You have ten seconds to send me home, or I will DEFEND myself with this Defense rifle!" he warned angrily.

"As I said, I can't do that," the king said, falling to his knees. "Please, even if I must die, please save my people! The evil demon lord has been attempting to steal the means of production to force us to secede to their demands and citizens are dying on mass! Only you can stop her!"

"Seizing the means of production? Citizens starving? Sounds like a commie," muttered Bill, stroking his beard.

On one hand, he had to get home by November to vote Trump back into the office and make sure the rioting democrats stayed far, far away from his precious country, on the other hand, killing commies was an American pastime.

"What are the demands?" Bill asked curiously.

"Oh, she wants me to improve living standards for peasants and provide free healthcare for the sick!" the king said.

"And she just wants those things? Without even working for them? Does she just think she deserves them? Sounds like an entitled commie to me!" Bill said angrily. "Fine, I agree!"

"Thank you!" the king said, falling to his knees and crying. "Now I get to keep my throne- I mean 'help the poor, starving citizens!'"

"Don't be so fast. There is still the issue of payment," Bill chided.

" . . . Payment?" the king asked.

"Yes. Payment. USD American dollars. I want at least 30$ an hour with a signing bonus of 10,000$ dollars, a pension, healthcare and of course hazard pay," Bill said. "I could also use some stocks that will appreciate in value, and bitcoin is also acceptable."



"Ah, we usually don't pay the heroes . . ." he said, staring dumbfounded at Bill.

"That sounds like slavery to me!" Bill said angrily, raising an eyebrow "As everyone knows the thirteenth amendment of the glorious constitution of the united states of America expressly forbids slavery!"

Bill raised the barrel of his AR-15 Defense Rifle to the head of the king.

"Don't tell me you're engaging in unconstitutional laws?" he said, steel in his voice.

"O- of course not, heh heh" he king muttered nervously. "We don't have any American dollars, are gold coins acceptable?"

"What percent gold?" Bill asked.

"Pure of course. What do you take me for?" the king muttered.". . . actually don't answer that."

"Alright, gold is fine," Bill replied. " I want fifty ounces of gold an hour and a signing bonus of a two fifty pounds of gold."

"Pounds? Ounces?" the king asked confused.

"What? You don't use the Imperial system?" Bill asked, aghast. "Do you use the filthy Canadian 'metric system' instead?"

"The metric system? Yes, actually. A few earlier heroes introduced it to us along with a few other inventions." the King said.

"Uggh!" Bill groaned, adjusting his MAGA hat. "Fine, just give me, I don't know, fucking . . . 100 Grams of gold and hours and two kilograms of gold as a signing bonus!"

Bill shuddered internally as he spoke the blasphemous metric system. He had learned to use it during his honeymoon in Canada.

"Now, tell me more about this so-called demon lord!" Bill ordered.

"If I may, my king," said a man standing next to the throne. "My name is Barry Arslan. I am a court historian. Would you be fine with me explaining it?"

Bill nodded his head.

"Very well then. For you see . . . Long ago, the kingdoms lived in harmony, each one ruling over the peasants with an iron fist- I mean a velvet glove, and lots of happiness! Then the demon lord appeared, ruling over an army of disgruntled, I mean 'mind-controlled' peasants who she ordered to rise up against us! Ever since we have been on the defensive as her hordes shattered our lines and forced us back! The prophecy says only a summoned hero can kill the evil demon lord, so we summoned hundreds, but all of them died before achieving their goals."

"I see! Well, don't worry about it. I assume you've been using the army to fight her? No wonder you were failing! Private contractors always do better jobs than government programs!" Bill said passionately. "Now that you've hired Landry.Inc, it's just a matter of time until she's dealt with!"

"Thank you, oh hero! Now allow me to show you to the demon lord!" the king said, crying gratefully.

"These are the three cities she has captured so far, New Furlton, Lost Dove City and the city of Riverbark." the king said, pointing to a map. "You must go to one and deal with her!"
 
Hahaha. At least they use the metric system. Sincerely wish the hero gets saddled with a back talking teen with socialist tendencies and strong convictions.
 
Second Amendment: The right of the people to bear arms. (SHALL. NOT. BE. INFRINGED)
Illegal Immigration: Or how I brought THE CONSTITUTION to a fantasy world.

Any of you seen that one Leafy video where he complains about all anime protags being the exact same fifteen-year-old with black hair and no personality and asks for an anime with a fifty-fifty-old hunter from Louisiana with strong opinions about immigration? Yeah, that.

Very Important Disclaimer: No hate is meant for fifty-five year old hunters from Louisiana or anyone else mentioned in this chapter. No animals were harmed in the making of this chapter(Or were there?).

▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂


Bill slowly walked along the road to Furlton. His Ar-15 Defence Rifle was slung over his back, in reach in case he had to Defend himself. His MAGA hat glistened in the sun.

As he neared the city, he slowly began to smell smoke. Bill sped up his pace, running down the road. Over the horizon, he could see it, a massive bonfire. Dozens of people cheered around it, throwing books into the flames.

"Now what is going on here?" Bill shouted angrily. "You can't just light fires in the street, you could set the whole city ablaze!"

"No need to worry, just some Peaceful book burning," a young man said. His hair was neon green and he was wearing a Che Guevara shirt.

"Why are you burning books?" Bill asked, aghast.

"Cause, books are racist. Duh," the man said. "Reading is colonialism and colonialism is racism!"

"How can a book be colonialism? It's just a sheet of paper and some ink."

"When you write, you're like forcing other people to conform to your language standards, and there is like more than one language in the world. It's racist to assume that everyone knows your language!" the man said.

"Why don't you just translate the books?"

"That's cultural appropriation! You can't just take something from one culture and put it into another culture!"

"So you also don't like immigration?" Bill's eyes twinkled. He never thought he would encounter a like-minded individual here.

"No, I just don't think humans should live on orcish land! That's colonialism and colonialism is racism!"

"So you also are for segregation?" Bill asked, eyes wide in wonder. Who would have thought this man was actually a well rounded conservative?

"No, segregation is racist! I just think that orcs, elves and dragon's should get their own spaces where humans can't come and oppress them! Now, I'm done talking to you, I need to go Peacefully burn down a homeless shelter and loot a store."

"Wait! Before you go, can you tell me if the Demon Lord is in this place?" Bill asked.

"The Demon Lord? Do you mean the Premier of the people's union? Demon Lord is a slur propagated by the government to smear her!" the man responded hotly.

"Yes, yes her. Is she in this city?" Bill asked, rolling his eyes.

"Oh My god! You did not just say that!" the man said, his eyes widening.

"Say what? I was just asking if she was in the city," Bill asked confused.

"You did it again! Don't you know that the word city is a microaggression? 'city' is defined as 'a large town', and to imply some towns are large means some towns are small and that's oppression!" the man said angrily, raising his fists.

Bill drew his Defense Rifle and sighed, he didn't want it to come to this. He pointed his Defence rifle at the man and pressed the trigger 'defensively'. Immediately, every child and woman in a half mile radius died instantly as his gun began to unleash a hail of 300,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 bullets per second.

"Ah, stop OPRESSING us!" cried the man.

"The vast majority of gun deaths are caused by handguns and not rifles!" Bill shouted as the hail of metallic death tore through the man he had been speaking to. "Huh, yet another Libtard destroyed by FACTS and LOGIC."

Bill put away his Defense Rifle(lovingly named FACTS and LOGIC).

"You're more likely to be struck by thunder than killed with a rifle!" Bill shouted at the corpse of the man he had just killed with a rifle.

"Stop right there!" a voice shouted.

Bill turned his head to see a mob dressed in black, waving Antifa flags.

"You just killed that man with a gun, a capital crime," the Antifa spokesperson said, drawing a gun. "As everyone knows, guns are banned under the new Antifa Government!"

"Government? I thought you guys were anarchist?" Bill asked surprised.

"No, we're authoritarian communists!" the spokesperson said frustrated.

"I thought we were neoliberal Marxists with eastern Maoist tendencies?" one voice from the mob spoke up tentatively.

"I heard we were anarcho-eco transhumanists with crypto monarchist tendencies?" another spoke up.

"There they go again . . ." muttered the spokesperson, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"I read that we were . . . like an anarcho-primitivist socialist commune?"

"Guys, guys you're all wrong. Clearly we are all Anarcho-communistic authoritarian capitalists!" one voice shouted.

"Oh yeah."

"Makes sense."

"I'm down for it."

"Alright, none of that matters. Citizen, hand over your gun or we will have to Peacefully execute you!" the spokesperson shouted, Peacefully aiming a Molotov at Bill.
▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂
Will Bill hand over his guns? Will Antifa finally figure out what fucking ideology they are? All and more on the next episode of Immigration: Or how I brought the constitution to a fantasy world.
 
Third Amendment: No solider shall, in a time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner.



Illegal Immigration: Or how I brought THE CONSTITUTION to a fantasy world.

Important Disclaimer: No hate is meant for any of the political ideologies satirized in this work of fiction. The only people who deserve hate are filthy centrist fence-sitters. Let's just kill them all and resume culture warring.
▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂

Bill's eyes narrowed. Time seemed to slow as he clutched his rifle closely. He could see the flaming Molotov in the Antifa Spokesperson's hands.

". . . Shall not be infringed!" Bill shouted, an eagle cawing behind him.

"So you choose death!" the Antifa spokesperson shouted, throwing the Molotov at Bill. The glass bottle landed at his feet, exploding into a three-mile high pillar of crimson flames.

Bill rolled backwards, pointing his gun at the spokesperson.

"I normally don't support late-term abortion, but I'll make an exception for you!" he shouted, firing his Ar-15.

The muzzle flash seemed so bright it could blind a hundred immigrants. Bullets spew froth from the maw of his rifle like flames from the lips of a dragon. Screams poured out of the Antifa mob as bullet stabbed into the crowd, heads popping like overripe tomatoes.

"Dammit, that's the seven hundred and eight fifth mass shooting this week!" the Antifa spokesperson cried out. "You'll pay for this!"

"Pay for this? Taxation is theft!" Bill shouted, his gun tearing through the remaining Antifa members until only the leader was left.

"You're stronger than you look, Bigot!" the spokesperson admitted, coughing slightly. "But, this isn't even my final form!"

"AAAAh! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" the spokesperson began to scream, light pouring out of him. The spokesperson's hair suddenly turned neon pink, piercings appearing all over his face and ears.

"Now, allow me to show you the power of true communism!" the spokesperson laughed. However, before the spokesperson could attack, he suddenly began to shrivel up, his bones showing through his skin.

"You fool! Don't you know socialism always leads to mass starvation? You played with fire and got burnt!"

". . . This wasn't real communism. If it were real communism, I would have won . . ." the spokesperson said as his body slowly crumbled into ash.

"In the sage words of President Trump, you're fired!" Bill shouted, staring at the corpse of the spokesperson.

"Now, I really do need to find someone to answer to my questions," Bill said.

He looked around, spotting a large building that read 'Furlton University.'

"Great," Bill said. "I'm sure the austere scholars of that university will be able to answer my questions."

Bill walked over to the university and knocked on it's door. A bright green thing popped it's head out of the door, squinting at Bill.

"Hmm? What do you want, human," the green creature asked, voice filled with disdain.

"Oh, I was just wondering if I could come in to talk to some professors," Bill asked. "If its-"

"No!" the green thing barked, pointing to a sign. "Can't you see this is a safe space? No humans allowed!"

"So, because of my species, something I was born with and can't change, I am not allowed to access certain public spaces?" Bill asked, his eyes wide."Separate but equal, huh? Sounds like something my Uncle Clyde would vote for."

"Hah! Orcs like us will never be equal to humans so long as Bigots like you come over here and oppress us with your . . . humanness," the green orc spat, slamming the door in Bill's face.

"Now now, I thought universities were places of knowledge and truth?" Bill objected.

"Where the hell did you hear that? We don't use those things anymore. Sometimes the truth is offensive, so we ignore it!" the orc said from behind the door.

"Hah, you remind me of my wife," Bill said. "I'll agree to leave if you answer me one question. Where is the Premier of the people's union? I want to . . . go congratulate her for all the good work."

"The premier? She's in the capital, Lost Dove Settlement," the orc said finally. "Now get out of here. We don't take kindly to humans round these parts."

Bill scoffed and he began to walk away. He had managed to get some useful information, so it wasn't like his trip was a complete waste. However, if he wanted to get back home by November third, he would have to hurry to Lost Dove City. Bill looked down at his map. It was fifteen miles away. He had a long walk ahead of him.
 
Back
Top