Once upon a time, there was a huge white castle on a remote island in the middle of the new world.
Few could access the island, because almost no one knew how to navigate the oceans surrounding the island where sat the white castle.
A council of kings, all very tall, ruled the white castle. Deep inside the castle, in several windowless rooms, the short people spent their lives building monuments for the tall.
Sometimes the short snuck into other parts of the castle. There, other short people heroically reported the mischief—and the tall people came, collected the sneakers, beat them mercilessly, and returned them to their proper station in a windowless room.
A mote of horribly nauseating sewage surrounded the castle. On any given day, several short people—the consistently sneaky ones—swam and treaded the poisonous mire around the castle, under the watch of trusted short overseers, as reparations for their crimes against the kings.
Occasionally, a giant green drawbridge dropped from the castle, and people of sufficient height passed over the mote of sewage and into the world beyond the white castle—a world dotted with other white castles.
Back and forth between the white castles, tall people passed at their leisure—occasionally pausing to hold their nose and sneer down at the short, ungrateful swimmers inside the toxic mote; or stopping to enjoy the public beatings and executions of the most evil short people in a give castle.
Whenever war started between white castles, each castle’s council of kings authorized the unshackling, de-rooming, and dis-moting of many short citizens—and sent them to fight against the short citizens of the opposing castle.
On one occasion of war, Abraham Lincoln declared freedom for the short people of an opposing castle—but not his own.
At the same time, dissent broke out among the short people in Lincoln’s castle—riots against the war draft.
Lincoln caged all dissenters and suspended habeas corpus—the right of a caged person to appeal their case to a judge.
After Lincoln won the war, the council of kings passed the 13th amendment, declaring that only the government could own slaves, and Lincoln expanded the mote outside the white castle to cover all that a short person could ever see.
For crossing over the new, huge mote, Lincoln’s castle commissioned the longest, greenest door in the history of the world.
The door’s construction required six-million carpenters working 1,913 federal reserve acts. When the carpenters finished, they burned a six-pointed pentagram into the center of the door, in honor of their God: the devil.
Ever since that day, short people devised countless ways to mask their height and gain the privileges of the tall—but their efforts were always in vain: the short people were forever marked by the inherited stench of the motes, and their gentic blindess from generations of living and dying inside windowless rooms of the white castle.