King Fly, Azerbaijan-Magellan XXII sat on a golden throne in a golden throne room. His little crown fitted with microscopic rubies and diamonds rested snugly on his wrinkly, little head.
He was quite a dictator.
“I want this,” he would say. “NOW!”
And then when it was finally brought to him by his maid Armenia or his butler Sir Kazakhstan II, he wouldn’t even want it anymore.
“Bring me THAT, not THIS,” he would exclaim. “Why can’t you ever do anything right, Sir Kazakhstan?”
And Sir Kazakhstan, who wasn’t very bright, would reply, “I don’t know.”
“Well, know. I’m just the king, it isn’t my duty to know everything in your mind, let alone everyone else’s minds, and I’ve got 300,000,000,000 people under me, and I don’t want my rule to be ruined forever.” That was a typical response from the High Dictator Azerbaijan-Magellan, XXII, King Fly.
No one knows for sure where the King came from, but most accept the theory that he was born in the rice paddies of southeast China, which would explain the fact that all of his subjects must be named after countries in Asia (that rule was slightly changed once all of the Asian countries were used up). This led to thousands of little girls named Russia or Mauritania, and thousands of little boys named Burundi or Norway. And of course the most popular names for sets of twins were Sao Tome and Principe, and Trinidad and Tobago.
Most also accept the theory that he studied at the University of Beijing and then moved north to Siberia to avoid an upcoming typhoon, which would explain the fact that he had such a high tolerance for the cold.
While in Siberia, he wrote a substantial piece of music called Requiem for Flies, still sung today. It is best known for becoming the national anthem of his empire. The lyrics are as follows:
We are the flies.
We are the best.
We are better than you.
And don’t argue.
We will unite.
We will attack.
You will be dead.

When he was an old fly, he must have decided to migrate southwest, to southern France, where he built a magnificent mansion to retire in.
There, he invested in stock, and became a multi-millionaire.
I am the best. I am the richest. And now it is time for me to take over the world, he thought to himself one day while on vacation in Argentina.
His idea developed until he had made a plan of how he would conquer all of the countries in the world. He changed his name to make it more internationally-suitable, from Qin, King of Flies, of the Mongol Dynasty to, of course, Azerbaijan-Magellan XXII, King Fly.
To gain approval, he would drop t-shirts reading: AZERBAIJAN-MAGELLAN XXII IS NOW YOUR DICTATOR from his private jet. Russia didn’t take very well to this, and neither did Germany, Japan, or India. He just dropped more and more t-shirts from his private jet in hope that they would get people’s attention.
A famous story among Azerbaijan-Magellan’s empire was the story of how one of those t-shirts landed on the King of Mosquitoes, the ruler of a vast kingdom of vile insects in North America and South America.
The all-powerful King of Mosquitoes died of shock. Either that or the shirt decapitated his wrinkly head. Or maybe a combination of both.
The Mosquito Empire was the first to be conquered.
After the King of Mosquitoes (whom Azerbaijan-Magellan jokingly nicknamed Senor Decapitato) had died, a democracy rose up in the Mosquito Empire. A lowly servant fly from the stables named Pedro de Nicaragua was elected as their president.
As a general rule, you never elect someone whose campaign motto reads: I will be your leader. But I won’t be a very good one.
As a general rule, you never elect someone whose campaign signs read: I am not the right fly for this job.
As a general rule, you never elect someone who says, on live television, “Please forgive me if I turn into a dictator.”
As a general rule, mosquitoes have no common sense whatsoever.
Pedro de Nicaragua was a very popular leader; he didn’t make any bad decisions (there were really no decisions to be made), and he did what the people told him to.
So when a young school-Mosquito flew up into his private chambers and said, “You should build a replica of the Great Wall of China,” he built a replica of the Great Wall of China.
Construction lasted 3 months (there are trillions more mosquitoes than flies), and the Great Wall of China of America was completed.
No one really liked the wall, and Azerbaijan-Magellan XXII (remember him? I haven’t gone off track that long!) thought that they might rebel, leaving an empire ripe for the picking.
Mosquitoes have no common sense whatsoever.
And then there was the Great Revolt of the Great Wall of China of America. You might have an idea of what this was like. The civilians rose up against President Pedro de Nicaragua around the Great Wall of China of America. Wrong!
A small group of rebels settled inside of the Great Wall of China of America, declared sovereignty from the Mosquito Empire, and made it their home.
This was Azerbaijan-Magellan’s time to strike.
In the middle of the night, he landed his private jet on a small island in Lake Nicaragua, and with an army of trillions of soldier-flies, he attacked the capital city of San José. The army surrounded the walls of San José, their spears at the ready (Azerbaijan-
Magellan had learned in Siberia that spears were the most potent weapons).
They waited and waited for some sign of Pedro de Nicaragua opening the city gates, but, of course, the mosquitoes didn’t open up.
This went on and on until one old fly named Japan-Blackwing the Wise thought of the idea to fly up the wall and into the city.
This is what he said. “We are flies. We can fly. That’s why we’re called flies. So, why don’t we just fly up the wall.”
And then Azerbaijan-Magellan XXII said, “Why! You’re brilliant. You will help me take over the world. And then you will be my Vice Dictator.”
And Japan-Blackwing the Wise responded, “Of course. I would absolutely love to take over the world with you. It’s always been my dream to conquer another country how Appleberry conquered Mesopotamia.”
He was quite a history geek.
“After the Mosquito Empire is ours, we’ll conquer Mesopotamia,” Azerbaijan-Magellan replied.
And so the swarm of soldier-flies soared up over the wall and surrounded Buckingham Palace (that same little school-Mosquito had asked Pedro de Nicaragua to build a replica of Buckingham Palace).
A Mosquito guard called out, “The Flies are coming, the Flies are coming!”
Small windows in the houses surrounding the palace lit up, doors swung open, street lanterns burned more brightly than ever, and a blanket of dark clouds blacked out the moon.
“Send the horseman! The Flies are coming! The Flies are coming!” repeated the
guard.
And from the royal gardens of Buckingham Palace, a massive rider mounted on an enormous, black stallion rushed through the streets, crying, “The Flies are coming! The Flies are coming!”
Azerbaijan-Magellan stepped forward, and in a voice like the growl of a lion, he announced, “I’m afraid we’re already here.”
And with that the Flies rushed forward, the massive swarm engulfing Buckingham Palace like a dark, black cloud of dust.
Azerbaijan-Magellan rose up above the swarm, held his little bug-eyed head up high, and called with his deep, determined voice, “We are taking over.”

The screams of innocent Mosquito women and children echoed from the city of San José, the streets filling up with the endless swarm of flies.

Stabbed Mosquito guards cried out in anguish. Blue insect blood ran down the streets.

One oblivious Mosquito toddler said, “Look, Mommy! Blueberry juice is falling from the sky! Can I drink it?”

“Sure, honey. Just don’t drink too much of it or you’ll get a stomachache,” an uneasy mother replied.

Meanwhile, at Buckingham Palace, the swarm of flies had slaughtered the guards and were slowly pounding against the door.

Surprisingly, a trillion flies can break down a door faster than you would think.

The padlocked, iron door collapsed with a resounding thud. And for one glorious moment of victory, the flies turned their heads upward in awe at the golden, ornamented interior of Buckingham Palace.

In front of them was a massive throne room, with red carpet and gold everywhere. A golden ceiling, a golden floor, golden walls, a golden throne, and even a little golden Mosquito in a little golden robe.

There was Pedro de Nicaragua, curled up in a ball on his throne. “Just… just…. just get it over with already. I don’t want to listen to my people dying.”

Azerbaijan-Magellan stepped forward, his beady gaze settling on the wrinkled little head of the Mosquito president.

“Oh, of course. We’ll just kill you quickly. Make it fast. Painless.” He paused. “Oh, no. We’ll make it slow. Painful. Agonizing.” He left a suspenseful pause. “So you can hear your people dying.” And with that he cackled a shrieking cackle.

He flew in a burst of speed up to Pedro de Nicaragua’s face, tears running down the president’s body.

He bawled and bawled for what seemed like an eternity. He was so focused on his crying that he didn’t even notice the long, silver sword slowly cutting his head off.

The thick Mosquito head toppled to the floor, staining the gold floor blueberry blue.

Azerbaijan-Magellan rose up above Buckingham Palace and a ruined city with streets running blue with blood, and he said in a thunderous, dictatorial voice, “I AM NOW ONE STEP CLOSER TO BECOMING THE KING OF THE WORLD!”