The little elf and the titanic tantrum

Once upon a time, Etwas the Elf was running through the forests of grass, under the canopies of clover and around the stems of tall flowers when she realized the world was out of adjustment and took steps to correct it.  She normally operated on the micro scale but she had some insights.  She jumped onto her mushroom and began a general upbraiding.  Rascal rolled his butterfly eyes and backed into a quiet corner of his stall.

She had heard the banshees keening so she kent.  She had heard the trolls rumble so she grumbled.  She knew how princesses peal so she pelt.  She'd heard the wolves baying so she bit and she'd seen farmers haying so she hit.  Her remorse washed across the land and took in all the hidden people and every animal and plants and trees and streams and stones.

In that moment, in that land, everyone thought.  They thought about all the mistakes they had made and all the choices that had turned out foolish.  They remembered when life held promises it no longer offered and they saw their own role in their own disappointments.

And yet, there was hope in the tirade.  If the fault was their own, the choices their own, then all the people and plants and trees and streams and stones realized that they could choose better.  They chose to choose better.  And so the world became more optimistic and Etwas was satisfied with her own screaming.

And ever since then, whenever the hidden people elect a prime minister, Etwas always polls second.