The ageing ruler of Dubai sat in front of his console of information, facing his biggest challenge yet. Bringing Expo 2020 to the emirate was to be his major swan song. But here he was, in his spotless white kandura and guttra, Expo looming but COVID cases increasing as the emirate opened up.
“What are we looking at?” he asked his advisors, who had jostled their way in front of his entourage, who were now a bit miffed to be out of selfie range.
“Sarr,” an outspoken fat Parsi spoke up, “the worst case area is Al Ras and Naif.”
The Parsi had a lot of balls, speaking first in a group of Emiratis and whites. But he had been the backbone of the advisory committee, which was in turn where the Ministry of Prevention got its advice from.
ShMo pulled at his beard.
“I remember this area from long time. Always low class, and some dirty African businesses yes?”
“That’s the one,” one of the white guys said, fearing he and his no-melanin crew had not said anything during the consultation.
“Chinese now, mobile shops?”
“Yes, near the old fish market.”
ShMo upturned his nose, remembering the vestiges of Old Dubai.
“Highness it’s so bad,” the Parsi continued. “All so many mens, coughing on one another. Pattans especially.” He could not stop himself from throwing in the barb as a proud Indian, though pursing a second passport in Malta.
ShMo was visibly repulsed at the idea of so many men coughing together.
“And now they’ve all become quite fat from staying at home,” one of the other white guys who used to be a fitness trainer in San Diego said.
“Yuck.”
“Huge boobs and bellies,” the fitness trainer said, flexing as he said the last word.
“Filthy!”
The advisory committee was silent, knowing by now when the ruler had enough information.
“Okay we do this. We get big bucket Dettol…”
___________________________________________
Amrit was a man on fire. Not literally, though there were nooks in his body that were feeling really hot from the tight clothes he was wearing.
After 6 months of sitting at home watching his at-the-beginning-of-the-layoff-his-fiance-and-now-his-wife become even more gigantic as she ate even in his sleep, he was out trying to become a self-starter, which was a word he had seen in a resume somewhere.
After selling chicken for so long, his newest job switch had turned to dust when COVID-19 hit just as he got hired. After so many months of scheming and alternative vegetating on the couch, he had decided to pursue a freelance career.
(His first choice was to become an administrative person for a real estate company like DAMAC – a plan that failed since he was not a hot Lebanese woman. His next plan to get into pharmaceutical sales to emulate his idol DM also fell aside due to his lack of experience.)
Amrit had decided to be a style consultant.
Here he was, wearing tight (not by choice by due to his becoming fatter by the day) brown pants and pistachio shirt with an eggplant tie. Tiny formal black shoes completed the outfit.
Not many men would think to be a stylist in the Al Ras and Naif area, what with its working class demographic. But Amrit had risen to the challenge. Also, the middle class would have nothing of him, with his cheap alcohol stench and stories about doing drugs out of wash-buckets.
He stood in the middle of Baniyas Square on a wooden crate to combat his short height.
“You wear like this, and you can stand out,” he exclaimed as he showed off his pudge.
Several Nigerians standing near a watch shop rubbed their cocks as Amrit moved his body in what could only be perceived as a lascivious manner.
“Bro, I’d hit that so hard,” one of them said, watching the rotund bottom swish.
“You have to pull you pants up highhhhh,” Amrit was saying as he pulled up his own pants as a demonstration.
The pants created a notable wedgie in his ass, while simultaneously bulging his balls. From the front, he looked like a man with gigantic testicles. From behind, he looked like an Egyptian woman or gay man.
This was too much for the population. Multiple hands reached for and slapped his ass. Some reached into his shirt and force-tied it so it looked like a blouse.
“Ayy, staappp thisss!” Amrit screeched.
Before wholesale rape could happen, everyone looked up to the sound of whirring blades.
Several grey helicopters were circling overhead. Hand reached out of each and made the ShMo infamous hand sign. Then buckets of red disinfectant poured down from the skies.
Rainbow Kandura 