When the mayor of Bentley walked out of the tunnel with Lynch, the entire stadium erupted in cheerful laughter. He had already heard the noise outside—he caught the comntators’ slightly snide remarks, and even the final fart joke.
Still, he showed no signs of displeasure. Instead, he laughed along with everyone. A person’s composure and vision determine whether they can have a broad mind. As a mayor, there was no need for him to quarrel with a few comntators.
If he had let himself get angry over so biting, yet not truly malicious, jokes, then that would say a lot about his limits. And soone like that wouldn’t stay in office long—he’d retire early with high blood pressure.
Long-term anger raises blood pressure and can beco a lifelong burden.
Comntator One: “Who’s that young guy next to him? His son? Or maybe a nephew?”
Comntator Three: “Looks like Lynch. You know, the youth leader. He’s been getting a lot of dia attention this year.”
Comntator Two suddenly interjected, “Because he’s rich. Rich people always have a way of making you feel like they’re right…” He paused. “This is getting heavy. I almost forgot—we’re supposed to be on their side, right? We’re getting paid, aren’t we, guys?”
That tily bit of self-deprecation and deflection pulled the mont back from the edge. The other two comntators breathed a sigh of relief—one of them had almost ssed everything up.
As federal citizens, everyone knows you can offend anyone, even the president. You can call him an idiot to his face, and no judge would arrest you for speaking the truth.
But insult a capitalist—a rich person—and even a small smirk on their part can unleash an army of lawyers ready to play a long, painful ga of spot the offense.
Even sothing trivial like a slightly crooked parking job can land you in court. Winning the case might not be hard, but the legal fees alone can ruin soone.
Targeting Lynch was a bad move—especially now, when his popularity was high. The dia doesn’t just hand out titles like Youth Leader to anyone. Even if Lynch had paid them handsoly, he still had to earn it.
Fortunately, Comntator Two realized this just in ti. Lynch wasn’t soone you could casually joke about. Politicians might hold back for their public image, but capitalists don’t have to.
After that, he looked at Comntator Three. “Didn’t you study lip reading?”
The laughter from older fans in the stadium suddenly grew louder, confusing many in the crowd who couldn’t see what was so funny.
Only real fans knew the inside joke: in contact sports like football, the confrontation is direct and raw. Players often talk on the field, but no one knows what they’re saying.
To improve the comntary and entertainnt value, Comntator Three had learned lip reading and started using it live.
At first, players didn’t know and would curse freely. Comntator Three would then translate them word for word, teaming up with Comntator One’s formal tone and Comntator Two’s sharp sarcasm for a hilarious effect.
It’s said the Pro Football League even gave them an award for helping clean up vulgarity on the field. Ever since Comntator Three mastered lip reading, players had toned down the profanity. A win-win.
Comntator Three knew this was a setup—to make it look like they were decoding Lynch’s words while naturally aligning themselves with him.
It’s like watching two people argue face-to-face. If one yells, You’re an idiot! and a bystander repeats it, that bystander is clearly taking sides.
This was a clever way to realign positions, and Comntator Three was quick on the uptake. “Of course. Mr. Lynch just said, I heard you handed out a lot of free tickets.” 𝖗ÂƝÒ𝔟ËŜ
The stadium director cut to a close-up of Mayor Bentley. He looked montarily confused, then laughed and waved, inviting Lynch to sit down.
The crowd exploded with laughter. That’s when people realized that so of the puzzled spectators around them were actually there on free tickets—no wonder they seed so out of place.
Comntator Two let out a breath of relief and gave Comntator Three a thumbs up. Then he leaned into his role again: “You should’ve bleeped that! You’re not supposed to tell the truth!”
Comntator Three apologized earnestly, “Sorry, I finished too fast!”
Before the ga even started, the three comntators had turned the stadium into a live cody show. Lynch found it amusing. “These guys are funny. If they had their own talk show, I’d watch. I like their sharp tongues.”
Mayor Bentley chuckled but didn’t think much of it. The federation already had plenty of talk shows—raunchy ones, intellectual ones, political ones, satirical ones… There was no shortage.
Every year, dozens of excellent new shows erged. These three weren’t necessarily any better than others.
Of course, maybe he was just biased—after all, they had poked fun at him earlier.
“People in Bentley aren’t really into sports. It’s a bit embarrassing. Even as the mayor, I feel pretty disconnected from the whole fashion scene.” He didn’t respond to Lynch’s question directly, but rather to the earlier one about the free tickets.
“I hope that by investing more in sports, I can steer people back onto the right path. It’s sothing I’ve felt ashad about—not knowing how to tackle the problem until now. I’m just starting to get so ideas…”
What he was ashad of was Bentley’s reputation as the “Gay Capital” of the Federation. So exaggerated claims even said half of the country’s gay population lived there.
The reason? Fashion.
The fashion industry is dominated by won, whether n like it or not. People would rather see beautiful won on runways than rough-looking n.
This led to more prominent female figures in fashion, along with a surge of feminism. As a result, except for the few n at the top, most of the male workers in the industry served the middle-tier won—and lived in awkward positions.
n and won are almost like different species. To survive in such an environnt, so n started labeling themselves as gay—more feminine in dress and personality, mimicking won in every way. So even outdid real won.
This blurred the lines between genders and turned Bentley into a cca for the LGBTQ community.
There had always been talk of change, but doing so was tricky. To completely reject decades or centuries of fashion culture might turn the city into a wasteland.
The mayor saw promise in the rising popularity of sports. Masculine, intense, and powerful athletic events might spark a renewed admiration for masculinity—and possibly help reestablish clearer gender lines.
Whether it would work was anyone’s guess, but it was worth a shot.
To draw in those uninterested in sports, the mayor distributed free tickets to bars and venues frequented by the LGBTQ community and hinted to owners that not giving them away might result in shutdowns.
If people knew, this ga could probably set a world record—maybe for Most LGBTQ Spectators at a Public Event or Largest LGBTQ Audience at a Preseason Football Ga. No one could top that.
At the referee’s whistle, the ga began. From the start, Lynch’s team—the Interstellar Club—dominated the field. Within the first ten minutes, their opponents were already calling for a substitution.
During the switch, one player even asked their coach if he owed the other team money—why else would they play like maniacs?
Force goes both ways. If you slam into soone, you also absorb the impact. The opposing team thought Interstellar Club had lost their minds. Did they not care about their own bodies?
This was a professional match—every minute on the field ant more money.
Even after resuming play, the Interstellar Club maintained total control. Experts might have found the ga dull, but casual fans thought it was insanely entertaining. So gay spectators even took off their shirts in the cold to catch the players’ attention.
Maybe, in its own way, this would help with Bentley’s gay problem.
Once people are fully engaged, the ga seems to fly by. When the referee blew the final whistle, the entire stadium erupted in celebration—whether they understood the ga or not.
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