TV’s across North Korean are interrupted with a special report. An empty high school locker room can be seen. Green faded lockers line each side with old wooden benches in front of them. There are flyers advertising upcoming bake sales and dances, all in Korean.

The ever-defiant leader, Kim Jong Un, enters through the swinging door with a basketball under one arm and a clipboard in the other. He is wearing a pair of thigh high athletic shorts, an ill-fitting polo, and a satin leatherman’s jacket. He is chewing a large piece gum.

Kim slams his clipboard into the set of old dusty green lockers to his right. He then blows the whistle draped around his neck.

A Champion is totally fine with the level of food and nutrients they are currently getting and doesn’t need the UN’s pity food.

“Listen up, ladies. I’m going to give it to you straight. That was the worst excuse for a missile test I have ever seen. You call yourselves the greatest nation on earth?!”

Kim spits in disgust at the feet of the camera. As he approaches the camera he props one leg up on the wooden bench, causing his thigh-high athletic shorts to ride a little higher on his leg.

“You really think you deserve to destroy America after a test like that? My father and grandfather are rolling in their graves right now at the thought. Now I know what you’re thinking, it’s time we just pack up and head home. Cut our losses now before they start making memes poking fun at us. Well there’s the door!”

Kim throws the basketball he had tucked under his arm at the camera. He takes his foot down from the bench, pulls up a folding chair, and sits down backwards on it. His shorts ride higher than ever before.

“I look around this room and you know what I see? I see potential. I see talent. I see a nation with too much food, no one could possibly be starving. I see the most advanced civilization ready and waiting to prove to the world we are number one. The question is, do you see it?”

Kim stands up from his chair and a white board is wheeled in behind him. He picks up a dry erase marker and begins writing. He writes “Champion” and underlines it.

“Can anyone tell me what tell me what a Champion is? Anyone? A Champion isn’t a quitter. A Champion doesn’t just stop at one failed missile test. A Champion is totally fine with the level of food and nutrients they are currently getting and doesn’t need the UN’s pity food. A Champion gets back up on that horse and rides it. I know I am a Champion. The greatest there ever was, in fact. But I can't do this alone. I need all of you because there is no ‘I' in Kim. Now tell me honestly, are you a Champion or a Chumpion? What are you? What are you?! I can’t hear you!”

Kim’s hope is that his countrymen near and far are glued to their TVs shouting “I’m a Champion.” He is correct because if they don’t they will be killed.

“Good! Now go out there and let’s give them a missile test they’ll never forget!”

Kim does a deep squat, showing off the range of his shorts one last time, to pick up the clip board. He turns to walk out of the locker room with his whistle in his mouth and begins to blow short bursts in celebration. The camera fades to black as Kenny Loggins' “Danger Zone” plays.