Once upon a time, in the days when kings were "elected," the king of America was beset by scandals and a disastrous war, and came at last to his wit’s end. "No long journey," some joked, but it was no laughing matter, for the king hatched a truly desperate plan.

He needed a fresh enemy, more wicked than ragtag box cutters or the vile Osama-saddama, and he found his ideal foe in the perfidious Persians, also known as Iranians. Twenty five hundred years ago their ancestors had threatened Greek democracy; a thousand years later they became followers of the prophet Mohammed, and Christian Europe had been forced to wage the Holy Crusades; just eighty years ago Iranians discovered oil, and shamelessly kept it for themselves. Most recently the king accused them of building a few nuclear bombs; apologists replied "Not so," but that even if they were, America had ten thousand of the awful things and Israel hundreds, surely the Iranians were entitled to a couple, as deterrents?

More evil yet, Iran called itself an Islamic Republic—a heathen insult to the world’s leading Christian Republic. And they possessed an elite special forces team, the Quds Force, skilled and bloodthirsty fanatics. Perfect, thought the king.

So a Small Nuclear Attack was launched on Iran’s uranium refining plants, which were buried deep underground. It isn’t clear whether Americans launched the "earth-penetrating nukes," or if Israelis did it with American encouragement, but the devastation was immense—vast clouds of radioactivity drifting across the Middle East, millions dead.

The world was appalled, but the Quds Force struck back—just as the king had counted on. Within weeks, a truck full of high explosives shattered the gates of a nuclear power plant on the U.S. East Coast, followed by another which barreled straight into the radioactive containment building and blew it apart. Vast clouds of radioactivity drifting across the eastern seaboard, millions dead.

The king went on TV, of course. "These evil men, and those behind them, will be captured and severely punished. This is a crusade against terror. In accordance with my responsibilities as elected chief executive, I am today declaring a state of emergency and martial law in the United States. The national guard is hereby federalized, and will patrol the streets, aided by professional contract troops; public gatherings of more than five people are prohibited without a permit; citizens will stay in their homes after evening curfew; leading dissenters will be detained in holding camps which have fortunately already been created in various wilderness areas.

"Regrettably, the November elections are postponed, temporarily. All mass media are subject to prior censorship. Goodnight, God bless you, and God bless America. And—don’t worry, go shopping!"

But Americans are not stupid. "The king brought it on himself," they said; "his own generals said it was nuts, but he nuked Iran anyway, and now look at the mess! No elections? Horsefeathers! This is a free country!"

People found a thousand ways to speak their minds. They waved the peace sign to each other (including to troops in the street), and offered gifts of oranges, remembering the Orange Revolution in the Ukraine. They wore clothes of orange, or red white and blue. With one hand they made the sign for the letter B (hand up, fingers together, thumb across the palm) and with the other hand gave Thumbs Down. They decorated pots and pans with masking tape in the form of the peace sign, and banged on them with wooden spoons. They sang and hummed "All we are saying, is give peace a chance," and blew their car horns in the same rhythm. They carried the flag upside down, or flew it on their car antennas; veterans knew it was the recognized symbol for "distress."

Nonviolence trainers were in great demand. In churches, mosques, synagogues and living rooms, people recalled the stories of Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Cesar Chavez, Lech Walesa, Bishop Tutu and so many others. They studied the techniques of nonviolent resistance by which dictatorships had been overthrown in Russia, East Germany, Chile and the Philippines. The studied the philosophy of Loving Your Enemies, and huge crowds of people began praying for the soul of the king, and the souls and families of all the dead.

Perhaps the decisive tactic was an ingenious form of the boycott which Gandhi, King and others had used so successfully. Cesar Chavez brought powerful growers to bargain with the union by persuading millions of consumers to stop buying lettuce and table grapes. When people once asked him, "How do we use nonviolence to end the wars?" he replied, "I don’t know. But find a way to attack their money."

Well, the king had said, "Go shopping!"—so millions did. They filled the big malls, strip malls and corporate chain stores, new and used car lots. They clogged the aisles, walking up and down, smiling, inspecting the corporate goodies for sale. "I’m shopping for a really nice Widget. Can you show me what you’ve got?"

But they didn’t buy a thing. Not one cell phone, not one car, not one diamond ring or lipstick or pair of shoes. They smiled big smiles and said "Thanks, I’m just window shopping—for now."

They ate rice and beans from their basements and veggies from their gardens, or opened cans from the back of the shelf. They bought what they absolutely needed from mom and pop stores, or they did without. And they kept on cheerfully window shopping, and had a great time swapping stories.

It wasn’t long before corporate America freaked out and told the king,

"We’re losing a ton of money. This folly of yours has got to stop!"

And it did.

As Gandhi said, "In the end, tyrants always fall. Always."

© John Morearty 2007