Wataniya Mas Race under fire from ocean powers

Special report brought to you from underwater by Legacy of Pain, special liaison to “Bakhabaru’s Team Extreme – Going where the hand of reporters have never set foot on!”
EDITOR’S NOTE: Due to the explicit language used in this article, parental guidance is recommended – since it’s always funnier and more enjoyable to experience swearing in the presence of parents.

A press conference was held underwater, somewhere between Malé and Villimalé, in protest of the Wataniya Mas Race. The press conference was organized by Poseidon, Greek god of the sea; Aquaman (Arthur Curry), er… fictional ruler of the seven seas; and Kandu Rasgefaanu, local sea-god who rules over the waves, controls the weather and watches over Rannamaari’s bottle prison. The conference venue was located underwater because Poseidon doesn’t have any powers above water, Aquaman didn’t have anything else to wear other than that gay gold and green scaly tights he always wears and Kandu Rasgefaanu wanted to stay close to Rannamaari – which really is as gay as it sounds.

Bakhabaru, the most respected, trusted and well-known news website in all the known universes, asked me, the most respected and well-known blogger in all known blogdom, to go to the press conference in their stead as none of their fearless reporters were able to breathe underwater or knew how to operate the Whale submarine that Umar “the Solution” Naseer had so generously put at their disposal.

Upon arrival, I discovered that I was the only media personnel there, other than a few fish, a couple of jellyfish, a squid and something I would have to say was the bastard child of a blowfish and lobster. There was a human reporter in diving gear in attendance also, but he was flailing about trying to shake off a shark which was busily trying to chew off his leg, so I couldn’t be sure which media organization he represented. Since I didn’t want to be rude, for I am polite that way, I didn’t interrupt them as they looked like they had some issues that needed to be worked out and chewed on.

Poseidon was in the middle of his speech when I arrived, fashionably late as usual.

Poseidon: … and that’s why we are standing up… err… sitting down… floating, swimming? *ahem* against this whole Wataniya Mas Race thing. We totally don’t approve. In fact, we disapprove. Things were going swimmingly, har har if you’ll excuse the pun, between the surface dwellers and us until this whole Mas Race debacle.

Aquaman: Yeah, what he said. That’s telling ‘em.

Me: Excuse me? Why are you against Wataniya again?

Poseidon: You? What are you doing here? I thought you hated us!

Me: I do. But this is for Bakhabaru News. From the dry-lands. I’m sort of a representative. A deputy reporter-like person. Going places where others cannot, sort of thing, you understand?

Aquaman: Bahabawhat news?

Me: Bakhabaru… look, this will be a lot easier if I did the questioning and you just... umm, bubbled.

Poseidon: It’s not Wataniya we are against; it’s this flipping Mas Race on TV. At first we thought the fish were going to take part in some sort of race and we were really excited. Dhohokko here had even started doing laps between Addu and Malé to prepare for the race. I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said this was not what we expected in a Mas Race.

Aquaman: Yeah! That’s really telling ‘em.

Me & Kandu Rasgefaaanu: Shut the fuck up!

Kandu Rasgefaanu: It’s bad enough when they show filth like that creepy sex-crazed maniac Muhamma Kalo and that lame-finned excuse of a talk show.

Poseidon: A-hem, if I can be allowed to continue… thank you. We don’t even mind the gods-awful wailing polluting our pristine waters under the excuse of singing. It is rather amusing watching those so-called reality shows as some of the participants can’t sing to save their lives and others just manage to rile up the whales down here and dogs up there. But when you bring those lame reality shows to my… our domain, well, that’s where we draw the line.

Me: So let me get this straight… you are okay with the game show ‘Thiyabeyfulhunge Furusathu’?

Aquaman: I’d so do that hostess. I’d make her wriggle like a worm on a—

Me: Nobody is talking to you, Curryman.

Kandu Rasgefaanu: Who invited the pompous parrotfish here anyway?

Aquaman: Now you’ve hurt my feelings…

Me: He has feelings?

Kandu Rasgefaanu: Yeah, one or two. Most of them in his fucking pussy.

Poseidon: Not to sound too supportive of Curryma- er Aquaman, but, hey, I’d do the hostess too.

Me: Fair enough. But shut faggotboy there up, okay?

Poseidon: Moving on… It’s okay when you guys pull out a fish or two every now and then. I get it: it’s how you people earn money… or something. But camon, you gotta draw the line somewhere, for fucksakes!

Me: I thought there were plenty of fish in the sea. *snicker*

Poseidon: It’s not that… it’s just that, someone stole my barracuda tie, and the last time I saw it, it was around the neck of one of the Mas Race team members. When those teams come fishing, it’s total anarchy down here.

Aquaman: And the less fish there are down here, the less fish there are down here to do my chores for me.

Me: I swear to god, Aquaman, I will harpoon you, drag you to land and sauté your ass for dinner if you speak another word.

Poseidon: You better shut up. He looks serious.

Kandu Rasgefaanu: No, no, Aquaman. I say you call his bluff! *snicker*

Poseidon: Right… I’d just like to say, I didn’t like losing my barracuda tie, and that’s why we are against the Wataniya Mas Race.

Curryman: Also, the depleting number of fish!

Me: Aquamaaan!!! *takes up harpoon gun*

Kandu Rasgefaanu: Hell yeah! About time we had some action. Someone throw me my trident!

Aquaman: NNNOOOO!!!!

And that’s how I got to have sautéed Aquaman ass for dinner.

Poseidon was relieved to find out that the show was over for the year, and warned that whoever stole his tie should return it now, or else he’d do something like make the next show impossible by only letting them catch the bastard love children hybrids of blowfish and lobsters. And you don’t want one of those at the end of your hook, thief. Believe me.