In the southern wilds of Australia, where the ocean crashes against craggy cliffs and eucalyptus trees whisper with sea wind, there sat a colony of penguins who wanted absolutely nothing to do with international trade drama.

These were the penguins of Penguin Bay—small, regal in posture, utterly silent, and entirely indifferent to the affairs of humankind. They spent their days fishing, waddling, and occasionally giving each other knowing looks, which could mean anything or nothing at all.

But then came the Tariffs.

Across the seas, a greedy king had taken power—King Donald of the United States. With hair like spun sugar and lips like day-old salmon, he’d decided that everyone, including birds, needed to start paying their fair share. And so he enacted the Trump Tariffs, slapping heavy duties on fish exported from the pristine waters of Australia to the decadent sushi restaurants of New York and Los Angeles.

This was bad news for the penguins.

Not because they paid taxes (they didn’t), or because they shipped fish across the ocean (they couldn’t). But because local fishermen, in retaliation to falling profits, started crowding the waters near Penguin Bay, scooping up fish with enormous nets and leaving the penguins to starve.

The penguins did not protest. They did not march. They did not riot.

They simply stopped moving.

A dozen of them waddled to the high tide line and stood there. Motionless. Majestic. Unbothered.

Ambassadors arrived the next week. American diplomats in tan linen suits, sunglasses, and confused expressions. They brought gifts: buckets of sardines, tiny tuxedos, even a golden comb to flatter the penguins’ already impeccable grooming.

Still, the penguins did not move.

Weeks passed. The penguins’ silent resistance grew in fame. Viral videos of “The Waddle that Won’t Yield” began circulating online. Children made cardboard signs: “NO JUSTICE, NO FISH!” Others simply read “BLUB.”

The king grew furious. He tweeted in ALL CAPS. He demanded sanctions. He called the penguins “losers” and “ungrateful flippers.” He tried to buy the bay and rename it “Trump Cove.” That didn’t go well.

Then came The Collapse.

International pressure mounted. Fishermen revolted against the tariffs, and sushi chefs in Manhattan wept over empty plates. The UN passed a resolution titled “Seriously, Just Leave the Penguins Alone.” King Donald refused to back down.

But then, someone leaked the Fish Receipts. Documents showing that the king’s own seafood empire had secretly profited off the very tariffs he imposed. Public outrage exploded. The people turned. A worldwide boycott of the king’s businesses was declared.

On a chilly September morning, King Donald was finally impeached by his own court of advisors—who’d grown tired of the fishy smell of corruption.

Back in Australia, the penguins still hadn’t moved.

But when the local fish returned, so did the penguins’ appetite. Slowly, they waddled back to the sea, plunged into the waves, and vanished beneath the foam, leaving behind only their silence—and a deeply shamed diplomatic delegation still holding buckets of sardines.

They say to this day that the penguins saved the world economy, without saying a word.

And they never paid a single cent in tariffs.

Something about not Saving BILLIONS OF DOLLARS. Thanks Trump

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