Amelie crooked her leg around the giant cat’s throat, drawing an angry hiss from the animal. She raised her flimsy sword in the air as the animal danced around, holding the blade as if she were brandishing a tea cup. For several minutes this ridiculous display went on as the audience in the coliseum was silent. Just before she pulled out the novelty chicken suit for the giant cat to wear, a shrill whistle made her stop.
A man clothed head to toe in a black robe rose up from the centre platform, reading from a scroll. “This surfing contest has been called to a stop, as Amelie’s event is in bogus violation of the most tubular rules of this event. As per the Cowabunga Treaties, no surfer shall wear jewelry. The council has spoken!”
Amelie held her ground as guards in flowered shorts descended upon the arena. Pulling down their battle-shades, they closed in around her, novelty foam hammers at the ready.
“Stop! Don’t you see what’s really wrong here?”
Another robed figure stood up. “The Radical Council does not recognize this gnarly girl!”
“You’re being fooled! Surfing has nothing to do with riding around on a giant cat while wearing a matching outfit! It’s about riding waves out on the ocean using a board! You’ve been lied to your whole lives!”
The King of Surf rose from his throne, his cute cat t-shirt flapping in the wind. “What are these allegations from this aliham, dudes? I demand an answer!”
Anachranox, High Dude of the Radical Council, turned to the king. “She speaks lies, good king, and has ruined an otherwise boglius day of surfing. It is the most cruel of bummers, lord. She should be put to death immediately.”
The King rubbed at his chin, looking down at the woman. “So, let me get your most un-dunzo suggestion, babe. You’re trying to tell us that our thousand-year tradition of surfing has been wrong?”
She stood firm. “Look it up on the internet, my king, and you will know.”
The King rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone. The High Dude placed one hand on the keypad, trying to stop him. “You’re not really going to listen to the accusations of this frube, are you?”
“I’m going to look up some bodacious surfing videos while you guys kill her or some junk.”
The guards closed in around her, placing cuffs around her hands while she continued to look at the king, waiting for his response. When the glow from his phone lit up his face, showing his confusion, a smile slipped across her lips.
The King of Surf flicked to video after video of people riding boards on top of waves in the ocean, never once finding a single cat hopping around in a state of silly dress. He grit his teeth in his rage, turning to the High Dude. “You tricked us. Surfing has something to do with water, not cats!”
The High Dude clapped slowly as the assembled crowd turned to him. “I see I no longer have to disguise myself with this vile dialect, or this crude shape.”
He threw his robes off, his body appearing human for a moment before losing its shape. His outline seeped outward, glistening mouths appearing at the end of long tentacles that shot out of the gelatinous body. The monstrous beast rose up to its full height, a dribbling mass of teeth and flesh.
“We have come for the souls of this city! We will consume you all!”
The King of Surf scratched his head. “How was lying to us about surfing going to help you get our souls, dude? You look like you could pretty much take them and we couldn’t do anything about it.”
Anachranox stopped. “Well…It seemed like a good idea, because your ancestors were really into surfing, and…”
He stayed there, scratching at where his chin had been.
The King of Surf continued to watch videos on his phone. “Take your time, man. You’ll remember.”
Anachranox, slumped back down. “I don’t know. I really don’t remember.”
“Really? That seems like it would be kind of important.”
But try as he might, Anachranox couldn’t recall why he’d done it, and continues to ponder it to this day. Trapped forever in his own confusion, the people of Surf City were saved.