His eyes cracked open with the ring of his alarm. He lay there, motionless in bed as it blared on. Eyes staring up at the faintest outline of the ceiling. It was another day. What seemed like 5 minutes lasted only seconds as he reached over his rotund belly and calmly silenced the alarm. He sighed. It was difficult business running a country of almost 2 billion people…hard for a human, but he…he was a bear. A bear with an almost grotesque love of honey as well as his love of red polo shirts a few sizes too small.
He climbed out of bed and made his way to the closet to fetch one of his red shirts. His back hurt a little more than usual and he couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be than back in his den eating…honey.
“Oh bother,” he said as his shirt was just a smidgen more difficult to put on than it was yesterday. Being in charge…it takes a toll mentally and physically. He felt as if he’d aged 21 years despite only being in office for just under 7 years. He opened the doors and the day began. Bodyguards and his trusted advisor, an anorexic pig wearing a striped jumper, fell in step by his side, briefing him on all the important news the leader of a country should hear when they first wake.
He made his way to the kitchen in search of the delight which his tongue and stomach craved the most. Honey. As he ate his breakfast and stared off in the distance, he wondered how his friend was doing. He missed Christopher Robin, but duty called. Duty to the party was paramount and took precedence over even the most heartfelt friendships. That’s why he left. That’s why he was here now, to serve the party.
“Uh uh sir, I have s-s-some b-bad news,” stated his tiny advisor.
“T-t-the Americans have ramped up the trade war again. They’ve stopped…they’ve put a tariff on any honey we purchase from them.”
The jar of honey in his hand crashed to the floor. The clay pot shattered and honey lie there on the floor. Wasted… He was shocked. He couldn’t believe the Americans would stoop so low. What would they do next? Run guns to Hong Kong and support their cry for freedom?
“Oh well, I wasn’t going to eat it, I was just going to taste it,” he said trying to get over the immediate and sudden loss of his breakfast.
It was times like these that he wished to be back in The Hundred Acre Wood with his friends. Why must everyone make his job so difficult, he is but one bear and the stability of the party and the country all depended on him…”Oh, bother,” he murmured.
It truly is hard being Xi Jinping.