FALKLAND ISLANDS-- On April 8, 2013, at the exact moment of the death of former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, a magical, emerald mist rose off the beaches of the Falkland Islands, bringing an end to the curse that has held the islands hostage for the past 31 years. Residents report a mysterious, mystical music rousing them from their slumbers just before dawn. As they approached the windows of their respective houses, they saw, in the sky, a great, roiling green cloud slowly rising into the heavens.
“And then the sun finally broke over the horizon, casting beams of light into the cloud, and suddenly the air was filled with the sounds of screaming and the breaking of teacups,” said Francis Hale, Falkland Islands historian and cheese connoisseur. “And something stirred in our hearts, something that we hadn’t felt for decades—freedom. Yes, freedom. Suddenly, I feel alive again. I can do anything!”
Since the British invasion of 1982, the islands off the coast of Argentina have been cast in shadow. All music has disappeared except for old albums by the Kinks. No children have been born. No one has slept more than 4 hours at a time. Various residents have spontaneously combusted, leading to personal tragedy as well as a source of energy for the islands’ increasingly troubled economy. All the patients of the local hospital’s psychiatric ward are completely sane, and the doctors are all crazy! Dogs meow and cats bark; vegetables have no nutritional content; and everybody has become left-handed. But, with the banishment of the green cloud, all that has changed.
The Falklands are finally back to normal, although numerous residents have exhibited symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. The end of the curse, however, has also caused Falklanders to reflect on how it started. “I remember the night well,” said Hale. “I was in the pub—the Flapping Sea Bass—when this hooded figure walked in—an old woman, skeleton-like. She watched us for a while, and gradually everyone took notice of it, and the room became completely silent. It stayed like that for what seemed like ages. And then the figure began mumbling some words that I couldn’t understand. Finally she raised her hands over her head and cried out, ‘Trickle down! Trickle down!’ Suddenly, she disappeared in a puff of smoke. We all ran out of the pub to see where she had gone, and that’s when we saw the green mist falling onto the islands. The next day, she invaded the Falklands with the British army.” A memorial service for Thatcher is planned for next Tuesday.
