City of Miami Mayor Francis Suarez, a 180-pound sapient amalgamation of Moco de Gorila hair gel and Versace Eros Cologne stuffed into a Burberry suit, slurried to a podium before the Alex Hanna Coliseum. The new home of the Flying Cockroaches, the Magic City’s semi-professional unicycle racing team, the AHA comfortably sits 82,000 fans and covers an area of two square miles previously occupied by some of the city’s few remaining affordable apartment blocks.
At a time when a two-three townhouse south of casa culo, west of casa pinga, and built on a nuclear dump/haunted Tequesta burial ground selling for anything under $2 million cash seems but the rantings of a Club Space pastillera, it can be hard to fathom describing any Miami real estate as “affordable.” Though, I’m told, progressive housing advocates whisper—and coked-up realtors shout—about a fabled neighborhood known as Coralcrest Bay, where a family earning $150K a year only spends 80% of its income on rent.
A blueish-green lump approximately the shape of a human head rose from Mayor Suarez’s collar. It’s only defining features were a rough mouth framed by a pair of spectacular eyebrows.
“I’m so excited to announce the inauguration of our 53rd arena!” exclaimed Mayor Suarez, waving what one could only generously define as arms. A light teal mix of overpriced cologne and criminally underpriced hair gel sprayed the assembled guests.
“This officially completes Miami’s transition to a crypto-stadium economy!” said Suarez. “Over the past few years, I’ve been honored to attend opening ceremonies for the Brahman Honda Chess Boxing Ring, El Car Wash Crochet Field, and Florida Center for Cosmetic Surgery Just One Look is Worth a Thousand Words Bullfrog Racing Track, among many other venues that have a combined seating capacity of over 300 million people! All we had to do was displace 100,000 poors, or whatever the PC police calls them these days. But I couldn’t have done any of it without Commissioner Ken Russell, my indispensable partner in this endeavor! Let’s all welcome Ken, who’s promised to deliver a few words!”
An aid carried a doormat reading “Hi, I’m Mat!” in block letters to the stage and placed it on the podium, where it sat for three minutes before sliding off.
“Thanks, Ken!” exclaimed Mayor Suarez, striding over his colleague. “Inspiring stuff! I’d now like to invite one more guest who was just as key to what we’ve achieved. Can someone please get Commissioner Joe Carollo up here?”
Another, extremely nervous aid walked slowly to the stage, a live hand grenade with a half-pulled pin held in her outstretched hands. She gingerly placed it on the podium and sprinted away.
The grenade listed to the side, raising a panicked gasp from the crowd as reporters and dignitaries dove under their seats. Moments later, a third, more clever aid scooped the commissioner up with a 20-foot leaf skimmer and walked offstage.
“Thank God that thing didn’t go off, amirite folks??” Mayor Suarez pantomimed wiping sweat from his forehead, but only redistributed slime from his “hand” to his “head.”
“Thanks for coming, everyone!” exclaimed Suarez. “I’ll see you at next week’s opening of the La Carreta Elephant Polo Garden!”
Suarez stepped offstage, slurped into a street drain, and slid right into Biscayne Bay. Miami Marine Patrol recovered approximately 60% of his total body mass within 20 hours of the accident.
As for the stadiums, they remained empty of fans and staff because everyone who would’ve attended their games had to move to Boca. They also never made their money back because OF COURSE THEY DIDN’T, incalculable studies show that sports arenas are net losses for cities. They did, however, make spectacular artificial reefs when Miami sank into the Atlantic in 2072.
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Andrew Otazo
'Miami Creation Myth' author Andrew Otazo has advised officials on Cuba policy, worked for the Mexican president, fired a tank, and ran with 30lbs of trash.
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