MoFA: Dude, Where’s My Office? (AnOnion; Vol 1, Issue 2)
by AnOnion

In this in depth issue of Government Island, this Onion reporter went undercover as a janitor to bring you the inside scoop in a first person perspective of the offices of The South Pacific’s heads and minds, and what kind of mess they throw away.

Honestly, readers, I had a hard time finding the Foreign Affairs offices. I used the GPS on my cellphone for hours, and kept getting turned around and put through many looping streets to find the offices. It was quite a ways drive away from the heart of the hustle and bustle of the central government hub.

After a couple of hours of disorienting directions, and many curse words thrown, I finally came up to a long dirt road. A sign was posted next to the entrance of the road, hanging off one hinge:


I continued down the long, bumpy road, and came up to a locked gate. I exited my car and continued on foot. The trip continued for another hour walk.
Eventually, I came up to a high fence with a small door, slightly ajar. More signs greeted me at the entrance. Some new, some old and some with lines of paint through them:


I took a deep breath and pushed past the small door. I was greeted by a field of unkempt grass and an abundance of wild flora. I looked around to find no building, so I decided to keep walking forward, the wild thorns creating small tears on my janitorial uniform.

As I continued to curse my way through the underbrush for what seemed like forever, I finally found myself before a small, wooden cottage. Behind it was a large array of communication satellites, each satellite  labelled with a foreign region name in big letters. I decided to take a closer look, to find the wild flora was slowly creeping up the satellites, vines trying to reclaim their lost territory. The only satellite to look relatively clean was labeled ‘NSGP’.

I decided to try and knock on the cabin door. I took a few tries, but finally the door opened a sliver, kept that way by what appeared to be many chains and locking mechanisms. Before I could get a word in, the person on the other side of the door cried out.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

I explained to the person that I was part of the janitorial services, but they quickly cut me off before I can finish. “I don’t want what you’re selling. Get off my property.” They quickly slammed the door and I was left standing there, more questions than ever.

I decided I would not give up there, and tried to peer through the small window. I caught a glimpse of colour: flickering red and orange, before the curtain closed abruptly. I told myself that there was going to be no way I will have the inside scoop of this ministry, and started my way back to my car. When I arrived to the fence gate, I turned to close the fence door…

And that is when, dear readers, I noticed the billow of smoke coming from the direction of the cabin.