Manatees and a game of Marco Polo

A short story of a long game.

“And we're back” sad the reporter.

A tall blond handsome man with teeth big and shining white. He was smiling and in his eyes, you could clearly see the excitement. As if this news story could somehow redeem his career.

“After this one, that scandal with the cheer-leading team in Wookhill High will be gone forever.”

He thought.

“Ah... shame. I really liked the head cheerleader. I just wish they didn't caught us.”

…

“And that she wasn't in a wheelchair.”

The whole spectacle went down in a School in the town of Custard-field. This town is a small collection of villages really. Near the coast of the Pacific.

It's usually sunny and dry around here. Tumbleweeds and rocks decorate the country.

“Carol?” Asked the reporter.

”We are entering just now the swimming pool area. Let's hope these kids will make their wish come true.”

As he entered the building the camera panned down to a large collection of people standing around the pool. It was full of children in life jackets. The water was nice and blue with a slight odor of chlorine and urine.

After all, public schools are funded badly.

The kids were between nine and eleven years old. Swimming and splashing around.

“Ah... those kids. They'll never change” Sad one mother to the next.

Strange creatures... those parents, I mean. Mommies were all dressed in flower patterned short dresses with sunflowers, lilies, and roses decorating their rather enormous bums. Cellulite added a fine texture to those patterns. From the front, they resembled a three layered wedding cake which is melting after a long sermon. The rear on the other hand closely resembled a top-down panoramic view of the grand canyon. Honestly, if the space between their cheeks is a groove than the grand canyon is just a ditch. Pretty much a manatee with short yellow and pink hair press fitted into a dress.

-Heh... funny. Manatee.... more like Momatee.-

The husbands were all skinny, twerpy and odd looking. It's just like on The Animal Planet where you see all them bugs and creepy crawlers. The female is always bigger and the male gets eaten after sex. I'm pretty sure this was their third marriage or so.

“Yes Carol, that's absolutely correct.” Sad the reporter holding his ear. “These brave and strong children are in the pool for more than 24 hours now. And they're still going strong.”

One Momatee thundered to the edge of the pool yelling: “On the left sweety! On the left, ya hear me?”

As these words left her enormous wobbly oral cavity the rest of the Momatees ganged up on her as if seeing a Big Mack.

“No cheating you fatty.” Sad another one.

All hell broke loose.

“How dare you call me fat? You... you... chubby blob.”

The Momatees started pulling each others hair and yelling as if they were tortured. Patches of blond and pink hair were floating in the air. The sight was just awful. It resembled gorillas in the rainforest fighting for the last banana.

Sumo wrestlers covered in fur-balls or as if patches of large flower gardens were colliding. For a moment there I thought we're going to have a new Pangaea or a different supercontinent.

The earth was shaking and the water in the pool turned from calm to a windy storm in the Atlantic. It reminded me of the scene from Forrest Gump. The one where Lt. Dan was on the mast, screaming at the storm.

Just before the strong husbands could intervene, the whole thing was over. Stamina in a real issue above 260 lb. But I must admit ladies. It was a nice 12 sec. battle.

Just as the whole gymnasium stopped shaking our reporter appeared from the rubble of broken tiles, flip-flops, and donuts.

“Oh.. Common now ladies... remember why are we here today.” And he pointed at the children floating in the water

“Yes, you're right.” Sad one of the survivors of the great flip-flop battle at Custard-field.

“We should support our ch....”

“Shut up I'm on live.” Shushed her the reporter.

“Carol... any minute now we're expecting the comity from the Guinness Book Of World Records to confirm this enormous deed of endurance”

One of the children floated to the edge of the pool and grasped it with all his might. A weaken voice rose from his mouth:

“Mommy... I want.... I want to g.... Mommy, I wanna get out.”

The Momatee of the child quickly hurled herself to the child and softly pushed him back to the middle of the pool. As the child was bumping to the rest of the occupants, it looked like a summer version of Carling. Now, this should be in the Olympics.

“You're not a quitter Bubby” Sad the Momatee waving to her child, getting further and further from the edge.

The rest of the kids weren't moving much. They were pretty much just hanging in the water like buoys in the sea. Yellow bobbing objects with round faces.

“Meh... I think the... record people are here or something. “ Sad the father of one of the children. And he was right. A big black car pulled into the parking lot of the gymnasium. Three elderly people stepped out from it and headed straight inside.

“Carol?”

“Carol.”

“Carol! For f**k's sake, what are you doing there?”

His face turned from ARRRR... to Holly S**t in a matter of seconds.

-A small tip for you out there. If a red light on the camera is on, it means you're pretty much live.-

“Ehhmmm.... ehmm. It seems like we have some interference with our feed. I must apologize for it. We will look into it later.”

He was sweating like a pig in a BBQ.

“The comity has just arrived. Let's have word with them shall we?”

The judges were looking bored and curious in the same time.

“Shall someone please explain what are we suppose to be judging?” Asked one of the judges.

All of them looked like the fat controller from the Thomas the tank engine cartoon. A thin mustache decorated their upper lips. Their accent was resembling a posh British one.

“We were called here by a Mrs. Dunblly. Where is she?”

One of the Momatees rose to her feet and started marching towards them with a determent and proud goose step.

“That would be me, your honor.” She replayed with a fake accent.

“My dear lady, we are not judges in a court, so we would ask you kindly to stop addressing us as your honor. The second thing, we would like to know is, what kind of sport or event are we witnessing today. And lastly, stop that fake cockney accent. It is ripping our ears apart.” Sad a member of the comity with a cold and unflattering voice.

The Momatee looked around as if she was making sure no one could witness this b***h slap. Straitening her short, blond pubic hair styled fissure she sad: “Ehm... your majesty...”

“Let us stop you right there.” The the judges cut her off mid-sentence. “is here anyone, at least a bit capable of a proper conversation?”

“Oh yes, gentleman.” The reporter jumped up front. “The name is Jason, Jason Wrickller. No. 5 news and weather channel for the Goolybroock county.”

The comity looked at each other. “Ah... First of all sir. We have no interest in your occupation what so ever. As much as we are concerned, you might be a plumber for the public restrooms in Salmonella Town. Secondly, please try to explain to us the nature of this record and try not to overheat your brain in the process. As if now, there are more than enough brain dead people around here. Starting with those unfortunate children in the water.”

Jason straightened his tie and loosened it a bit. After a large berth winked at the cameraman and sad: “We are here witnessing a great attempt of these children.” While addressing the comity he kept turning to the camera and back at them.

“ These children are as if now playing the longest game of Marco Polo in history.”

“Oh... we see.” The comity focused on the children in the pool, bobbing like mines in the waters of The British Channel during the 1940s.

“Since yesterday these brave little soldiers are in the water nonstop.”

The comity came closer to the edge of the pool and whispered among each other.

Pointing at the children once in a while and shaking their heads.

“It's a record. Where is the framed golden thingy? Give it to us already.” The Momatees have spoken.

Judges didn't even move a muscle.

“Yall def, or what? It's a record...” The Momatees were getting restless.

“Gentleman, I'm sorry to interrupt.... are you going to give us the record or what?” Asked Jason.

The judges faced the crowd which was now surrounding them.

“Well... dear ladies and gentleman we are going to give you something.”

A huge applause and shouting “We did it!” was shaking all the windows in the gymnasium.

The judges continued: “ We are going to give you five minutes to fish out your children, before the social service arrives.”

The cheering turned to dead silence in a fraction of a second. The “Yeas” and “Woo-hows” turned into “Whaaaaaat?” Daddies and the Momatees stared at the comity with their jaws softly touching the tiles on the ground.

“ehmm.... Gentleman?” Jason asked: “What do you mean?”

“Dear Mr. Wrickller.” They replied. “ This isn't a world record. This is, simply put, child abuse.”

“We ain't abusing no one.” Raged a Momatee in the back.

“Oh is that so? May we inquire, why are the children wearing life-jackets in a rather shallow pool?” They asked.

“Safety reasons...” Jason replied with a rather shaken voice.

“And would you care to explain why aren't they shouting Marco or Polo?”

“Well.... they are a bit tired so they.... you know... play it silently.” Jason sad.

“Interesting.” Sad the judges. “May we ask? At what exact hour did the children start playing this game?”

“Ehm... ladies?” Asked Jason turning to the wall of Momatees surrounding him.

“Well....” The Momatees started to mumble among each other.

“So?” Jason inquired.

“Ehmmm... ya know... they started... like.... yesterday” Startled the Momatees.

The comity focused their sight at the crowd: “Is it possible, that you weren't at the beginning of this game? Is it somehow possible, that the children were already in the water when you came here? Would we be mistaken, if we would assume, that these children are in the water for more than one day?”

Jason, with fear in hi eyes, started winking at the cameraman. “Ladies. Please.... say something.... Please.” He teared up. “Shut that thing off Jack” He sad to the cameraman.

“Shut it off.... For sweet mother Marry and Josef.... shut that f*****g camera off Jack!” He yelled at Jack the cameraman and slapped the camera out of his hands. “I'm screwed!”

Were the last words Jason sad before he ran out from the gymnasium.

“The reason your children are still in the water....” the comity continued “ is the fact that, they are tired and can hardly move. They are in the pool for a number of hours. This isn't a game of Marco Polo but a game from the Saw movie franchise.”

“That's bullshit.” Yelled the disturbed daddies and Momatees. “If they want to get out the pool they can!” They shouted.

“No, they can't. They can't find the grip rail.” Replied the judges turning on their heels and squishing thru the Great Wall of Momatees.

“One-minute ladies... one minute, till the social workers arrive. If we were you. We'd start fishing.”

That was the first and last time, that the judges from the Guinness Book Of World Record ever visited the St. Williams Special School for the BLIND.

Author's Note

Hi, this is one for my book. Please let me know what to change. The grammar is S**t. I need to have it proof red. Thanks