Today, in a ceremony at Miami City hall, mayor Manny Diaz presented Elita Loresca, the Storm Goddess, and Sir Manny Mojito and the Knights of the Mesa Redonda with a proclamation designating December 3rd as the first annual "End of Hurricane Season Parade." Ms. Loresca, former weatherperson at WSVN-Fox in Miami, will be the parade's first Queen. Sir Manny Mojito, who claims to be the King of Little H, will be the King of the parade and his Knights of the Mesa Redonda will act as the Queen's court.
"If it hadn't been for Sir Manny and his Knights of the Mesa Redonda, we're sure Miami wouldn't have been spared from a major hurricane or two this season," Manny the Mayor said. "Because of their constant vigil at the altar of the Storm Goddess, praying night and day while on their knees in chainmail, it's the least we can do for such a great group of guys."
"So why did you invite Ms. Loresca?" a New Times reporter asked.
"I can think of two reasons," the mayor replied with an unsure laugh.
The mayor motioned with his eyes toward Ms. Loresca's impossibly large and perfect breasts. So did King Manny.
The reporter shook his head sadly. "But didn't she threaten to destroy this city if Sir Manny and his knights didn't free her from her contract with Channel 7?"
The two Mannies paused and looked at each other before turning to Ms. Loresca. She looked up and smiled sweetly at them before cupping her impossibly large and perfect breasts.
They-- the two Mannies, not the Magnificent Magical Mammararies-- turned to the reporter. "Yeah, so?" they replied in unison.
"She's a fooking goddess!" Sir Belvedere of Plymouth, yelled. "She can do anything she fooking wants!"
The reporter looked away with a roll of his eyes. "Okay. Relax. Sorry I asked."
Unfortunately, Sir Belvedere saw the roll of the reporter's eyes. He pushed aside Ms. Loresca and the mayor and jumped off the podium with his broadsword drawn. The reporter, bloodied from an earlier encounter covering a similar story, turned and ran for his life.
"C'mere, you fooking mincing coward and take it like a man!" Sir Belvedere screamed.
The reporter paused for a moment and bent over. "Oh, I hope so," he said.
"Die Sodomite! Die!"
The crowd standing before the podium scattered as Sir Belvedere charged through waving his great broadsword to and fro but he was no match for the swift reporter who escaped with his life.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Diaz yelled over the din below him. "The Parade will hopefully follow every hurricane season on the first Monday in December. Besides having floats and marching bands, we'll also have floats and marching bands from New Orleans and other cities spared the Goddess of the Storm's wrath. Won't that be fun?"
No one was listening. But many were screaming and running.
"I mean, since we no longer have an Orange Bowl parade, what could be better? Or more meaningful?"
Diaz turned to Ms. Loresca. She was flashing her impossibly large and perfect breasts at Sir Manny. Transfixed, he could only stare and drool. It wasn't pretty. Diaz began to wonder if the parade was such a good idea after all.