ERIRZK-NSHOBLI, Freedonia. A bitter and divisive election season came to an end here last night at 3 a.m. as the Zaner-Bloser and Palmeri-Milligan parties, the proponents of the two principal schools of penmanship in this strife-torn central European nation, agreed to form a coalition government after neither achieved a clear majority in off-year elections to the Dumaxki, the upper house of the bicameral legislature.
“Do I like the Z-B’s? No way!” shouted Elik Oakvih, head of the Palmeri-Milligans. “Still, I must get into bed with them, just as I must sleep with my wife even though I find her disagreeable.”
Freedonia is the last remaining country in the world where all official documents are handwritten, a vestige of old world traditions of craftsmanship and ineptitude. “When the ‘go-go’ techniques of electric typewriters and computers are wiped out by the next invasion of our country, our people will still be able to write grocery lists,” said Palmeri-Milligan Party Chairman Zlike Koakmk. “They will all be dead, but the postal service is slow anyway.”
International observers arrived here last week as a bulwark against election fraud, which in the past has led to riots on election night and raids on weasel reserves from Freedonia’s central bank, the Reserve Fund of Central Monetary Department Official. “We welcome the scrutiny of busy-body good-government nerds,” said outgoing Prime Minister Arthikeo Nomakl. “Even the ones from Massachusetts, representing the Pahty-in-my-Apahtment Pahty.”
Election night jitters as Zaner-Bloser Party makes big, loopy O’s and T’s in the word “vote.”
Freedonia was formed after World War II by a coalition of dislocated fraternal lodge members from land ceded by the Six Flag Amusement Park chain, which was routed when its supplies of cotton candy and stuffed animals ran out. The nation’s principal exports are wi-fi passwords, which are prized around the world due to the complexity of the Freedonian language, and penmanship. Instructors from Freedonia’s National Academy of Handwriting command top dollar from American private schools, where they teach upper-class students to write gracious thank-you notes in longhand.
“It is a lost art, let me tell you,” says Nadiak Phlegmskoch, a winsome 24-year-old who hopes to earn permanent resident status in America if she can catch on with a financially stable prep school. “Some of these kids, they have been using Ad-Lib pre-printed thank you notes ever since they got their first toy stegosaurus from their grandmothers.”