Queen of the Western Sun

It is now 5:29 AM and I have officially gone insane

I decide to commission a flag. I am still shuffling through designs when I heard boss battle music in the distance. “This means war,” I sigh, sagging dramatically against the doorframe. Now I have to change out of my Lolita dress. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

Unexpectedly, I conquer Australia. They let me take over after I engage in battle with a koala, a honey badger, and a kookaburra simultaneously and emerge triumphant, if slightly disheveled. I introduce s’mores and all is well.

The authorities grow earnest as works of art disappear from museums, collectors’ homes, and the black market itself. A single photo is taken of a slender young woman in black, face hidden by a masquerade mask. The public lionizes me. My name changes to “the Young Hellion” after a note is left on the President’s desk apologizing for his trouble and assuring him I’ll be taking control soon. It is signed, “Your friend, the Delightful Young Hellion.”

I find it tremendously amusing. I even steal the Declaration of Independence in order to play along. I leave behind a picture of Nick Cage and a note in pink, swirly font. The inspectors move closer to the case in order to read it. “Bitch I might be,” the note reads. The i’s are dotted with hearts. The handwriting is untraceable. Only the pale pink stationary, scented with Channel, has anything to say about me.

Soon, diamonds, sapphires, and rubies are going missing. “Aha! An American thief!” I am dubbed, for 24 hours, “the Ugly American.” Rude, especially as they have yet to see my face and form.

I think I’ll start with poisonings. You know, arsenic, cyanide, hemlock. The classics. Your favorite band will probably write a clever ditty about it.

But see I’m a delightful little criminal I like lace and fine china and waltzing. You’ll like having me rule the earth, it will be fun! I’ll even cut in an hour for blogging in the middle of the work days