Chapter 7: The Great Shortage Crisis
The Kingdom of Palm Beachonia
Chapter 7: The Great Shortage Crisis
At first, everything inside the golden walls of Palm Beachonia looked exactly the way its citizens had been promised:
Trucks revved patriotically along new boulevards.
Sunsets were broadcast in high definition across RoyalNet, airbrushed to perfection.
Ice sculptures of King Donald the First (actual height plus twenty percent) adorned every major intersection.
It was, briefly, exactly the fantasy they'd signed up for.
But fantasies, like carnival balloons, have a way of popping at the first brush with reality.
And Palm Beachonia, it turned out, was terribly allergic to reality.
The Great Wall of Commerce
By October 2025, Palm Beachonia had gone from fringe curiosity to full-blown geopolitical nuisance.
What had started as a golden-gated fantasy — all monster trucks, loyalty parades, and televised executive tanning sessions — was now interfering with shipping lanes, tax codes, and basic common sense.
America had reached its limit.
President Hakeem Jeffries, still adjusting to life in the Oval Office (which still smelled faintly of tanning lotion and French fries), convened a meeting of his Economic Response Council
.
“They want to be their own country?” he said, fingers steepled. “Fine. Let’s treat them like one.”
The Two-Point Plan
On October 12, 2025, the United States announced what came to be known as The Continental Adjustment Protocol — though it was more widely referred to as:
“Operation Price Tag.”
The measures were simple, brutal, and surprisingly popular as the money raised was used for free lunches at public schools.
1. A 1000% Tariff on All Goods Entering or Leaving Palm Beachonia
This included:
Diet Coke (suddenly $412 per can)
MAGA hats (reclassified as “nonessential tactical ornaments”)
Spray tan cartridges (declared “nationally hazardous” and subject to bio-monitoring)
Gold-plated anything (“cultural artifacts of questionable authenticity”)
Tweets printed and framed as collectible wall art
and virtually everything else except bottled water and 50lb bags of rice and pinto beans.
Even golf balls were hit with the tariff.
Palm Beachonia, which relied heavily on importing nearly everything — from paper towels to patriotism — immediately entered a trade spiral.
2. A $10,000 Border Crossing Fee
Anyone entering or leaving Palm Beachonia was now subject to a $10,000 per person “Transnational Reintegration Processing Surcharge” (TRiPS).
The Customs Office released a brief statement:
“It’s not a wall. It’s just a price tag attached to the illusion of sovereignty.”
Mar-a-Lago, which had become the unofficial royal palace of King Donald I, released its own statement in response:
“This is the greatest border policy ever invented. Huge win for tourism.
Only the truly loyal will stay. Everyone else is a coward.”
As it turned out, most people were cowards.
By week’s end, northbound traffic was backed up across three counties.
Some tried to swim to Florida.
Some disguised themselves as Uber drivers.
One enterprising man attempted to launch himself over the wall using a giant novelty cannon left over from a Freedom Circus parade.
He made it 30 feet.
Palm Beachonia Reacts
Inside the kingdom, chaos rippled through the gilded patios and sequin-fortified living rooms.
The King’s Council (which met daily in the hot tub suite of the Four Seasons Faux Embassy) issued urgent memos:
"Patriot Rationing Begins Monday."
"Loyalty Points Now Redeemable for Bottled Water."
"Please Return Your Golf Carts for Reclassification as Military Vehicles."
To keep spirits high, King Donald declared the tariffs “FAKE NUMBERS” and began issuing Royal Palm Beachonia Bonds, redeemable in "future freedom units" to be determined by the next lunar cycle.
They sold out instantly, primarily to confused crypto investors who mistook the announcement for a joke.
It wasn’t.
The Tipping Point
When a shipment of cheddar cheese curds was delayed 23 days due to the tariff paperwork backlog, Palm Beachonia experienced its first public protest — a small but determined group calling themselves “The Cheddar Revolt.”
They carried signs like:
“UNFAIR and UNDAIRY”
“MAKE CURDS GREAT AGAIN”
“DON’T TREAD ON CHEESE”
Their chant was short, passionate, and not particularly coordinated:
“No fees! Just cheese!
No fees! Just cheese!”
They were promptly arrested for "unauthorized chanting without prior approval."
The U.S. Response
President Jeffries, watching the situation from the Roosevelt Room while sipping chamomile tea and reading a report titled Border Surrealism, nodded once.
“Let the tariffs speak,” he said.
And they did.
By Thanksgiving, the average Palm Beachonian was spending $87 on a carton of eggs, and nearly $2,000 per month on imported Freedom Jerky.
As the Wall glittered under floodlights and the Trumptilla bobbed uncertainly offshore, one carved inscription at the border crossing began to feel especially poignant:
“Enter Great or Not at All.”
Most, it turned out, chose Not at All.
The First Signs of Trouble
The first to notice were the butlers.
Soon champagne deliveries from the mainland had dried up.
Palm Beachonian sommeliers—many of whom had been promoted overnight to the Royal Wine Corps—were forced to serve a strange local brew called Freedom Fizz, an unlabeled sparkling liquid sourced from a warehouse behind an abandoned strip mall.
Complaints trickled in:
"Tastes like sadness and glue," said one socialite.
"My tongue feels betrayed," said another.
At the same time, boutique grocery stores began experiencing "supply disruptions," a phrase RoyalNet explained by blaming "traitorous weather patterns and imported negativity."
Shelves normally brimming with caviar, Wagyu beef, and designer lettuce now offered only Freedom Jerky (sourced from unknown beasts) and a suspicious number of cans labeled simply "Pork Product (Probably)".
Still, the citizens cheered.
At least in public.
Freedom Dollars Collapse
Palm Beachonia had printed its own currency, naturally.
Each Freedom Dollar was adorned with Trump’s face, winking mischievously beneath the motto:
"In Loyalty We Trust."
Unfortunately, Freedom Dollars were not backed by anything resembling an economy.
They were backed, unofficially, by:
Red truck rallies.
Trump NFTs and Trump cryptocurrency
Good vibes.
Toward the end, a loaf of bread (Freedom brand, heavily processed, no actual flour) cost 8,000 Freedom Dollars.
RoyalNet spun the news cheerily:
"Historic economic boom! Palm Beachonia citizens now BAZILLIONAIRES!"
Meanwhile, black markets blossomed in alleyways and abandoned boutique shops:
Gasoline sold in soup cans for Rolex watches.
Stale protein bars traded for hair dye.
A half-used bottle of ketchup auctioned for the equivalent of a small condo.
The kingdom’s elite, clinging to their Loyalty Scores, pretended not to notice.
They held elaborate banquets featuring Freedom Jerky sculpted into the shape of endangered animals.
It was, they said, "symbolic."
RoyalNet Spins On
Even as the shortages deepened and the Wall loomed ever more like a prison gate, RoyalNet kept the fantasy alive.
Headlines blared:
"Palm Beachonia Celebrates Best Economic Quarter in History!"
"King Donald’s Approval Rating Hits 110%!"
"Shortages PROVE that Palm Beachonia is Too Successful for Its Own Good!"
Television screens looped endless parades of waving citizens (footage recycled from the first day of independence), while newly drafted national anthems urged citizens to "Stand Proud, Eat Freedom, and Wave Louder."
At night, as generators sputtered and streetlights dimmed, some citizens began whispering doubts behind shuttered windows.
But they whispered very quietly.
Because the Loyalty Enforcement Patrols were listening.
And nobody wanted to be reassigned to Wall Maintenance Duty.
Not after the rumors about the Port-a-Potties of Freedom.
The Golden Dream Cracks
By the end of the month, Palm Beachonia was a kingdom of glittering desperation:
The Wall stood tall, its gold paint peeling under the assault of salt air.
The Loyalty Scores flashed bravely from broken billboards.
The monster trucks circled endlessly, engines coughing, flags tattered and half-mast.
And at the center of it all, King Donald the First sat upon his Royal Recliner Throne, surveying the empty boulevards and the vanishing crowds, smiling into the sunset that RoyalNet still promised would never end.
"Nobody’s ever done a better job, folks," he said proudly. "Nobody."
(Next Chapter Teaser:
Chapter 8: The Rise of the Truck Lords
→ Thug Life in the Kingdom of Palm Beachonia with unsustainable tariffs and entry fees)
Patience is a virtue that can only be developed once you have run out of it.
When I was younger I suffered from impatience and frustration with myself for many years or rather for many moments in many hours over many years and often felt overwhelmed with my life. I didn’t have the endurance to be impatient for more than a few moments at a time.
Love the Giant trucks in chapters 6 & 7. I can just see them driving through Palm Beachonia and parking on their back wheels, front wheels on the wall (my imagination), or maybe the way they get around is by popping wheelies. It reminds me of a time I drove through Las Vegas and the heavy equipment yards had their trucks 'n stuff stored on their back tires/tracks and the buckets were raised high like a salute. I notice that Trump comes across as an idiot, but after seeing Senator Padilla taken down at the press conference, I was so upset by the sheer intentional meanness, that Trump is not only stupid but also very intentionally mean and hateful, which drives his behavior.