Aquaman turned off the TV by throwing the remote control at it, shattering it all over the place. He had just seen the worst movie ever. Bohemian Rhapsody. It is mind blowing that within this insipid dreck of cinema, Rami Malek found room to portray Freddie Mercury respectfully. One could almost believe that Freddie Mercury was capable of saying such contrived idiocy.
Aguaman, not to be confused with the slightly more popular, Aquaman, was on the brink of a tantrum. He was in a meeting with Makeover Schlatz & Sons 2.0™, a P.R. firm known only for their untimely destruction of Mayor McCheese® and the accidental birth and branding of Chester Cheetah™. He wanted a new identity, one not associated with being called Mexico’s Aquaman. In fact, he wanted Aquaman to be called the American Aguaman.
Three weeks ago, Aquaman, the King of Atlantis, began a personal evolution. It is not a coincidence that the transformation began right after meeting Trump, the strange orange-skinned surface dweller, during a peace summit.
Aquaman® was beside himself. He was absolutely pissed. It was supposed to be his day of serious rest and relaxation. Instead, taking the advice of his main man, Vulko®, he found himself speechifying in front of a small group of mollusks, assorted crustaceans, and starfish in order to strengthen support from all of his subjects. There had been a great divide after an offhand ichthyologist joke he made in an interview with robot Lester Holt®. All because of an offhand pun about sea anemones, enemies, and frenemies. It was a rhyme. It was cute. He didn’t mean it. In short, Karma® sucks. Apologizing wasn’t enough, so now he was on this tedious spin tour. Keep in mind, he was the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, thus it was reflective in his body language. He took the stance of a vegetarian at a meat festival behind the podium, hunched over and anxious. It was painfully obvious that he had better things to do.