The Great Festa Fiasco

Prelude to Perplexity

In the heart of Sliema, where the streets are narrow and the pastizzi are always flaky, lived a man named Spiro. He was a bloke of simple tastes; his mornings started with a strong cup of kafé without sugar and a ħobż biż-żejt that you could smell from two blocks away. But Spiro had a peculiar talent – he could predict when and where the next village festa would take a turn for the absurd.

True to his odd knack, Spiro sensed an air of peculiarity about this year’s Mosta festa. “It’s gonna be one for the books, uweijja!” he declared, while spreading his arms as if he could embrace the entire island.

A Puzzling Plot

Days before the festa, Dun Kiklù, Mosta’s cheerful parish priest, had a revelation of his own. Filled with divine inspiration, or perhaps just an excess of rikotta from the pastizzi he’d binged, he decided to entrust the festa’s fireworks display to a team of local tech enthusiasts craving to innovate the age-old tradition. “Kollox will go smoothly,” Dun Kiklù reassured the skeptical firework committee.

Characters of the Conundrum

The techie trio, Carmnu, Meliħa, and Toni, all hailed from Gozo. They had met during a disruptive tech-in-agriculture weekend and now aimed to revolutionize Maltese festas with their latest contraption: The Firework-Flinging Drone Squadron™.

As they programmed their autonomous fleet, the trio filled social media with mysterious hints. “Wait ’til you see what we’ve cooked up,” Carmnu teased, alongside a pixelated teaser image showing drones silhouetted against a blood-orange Gozitan sunset.

“Drones will lift our festa spirits higher than Mdina’s fortifications!” proclaimed Toni during a mockumentary-style interview on the Times of Mela website.

The Night of Nonsense

The much-anticipated festa night arrived. As the crowds gathered, Spiro maneuvered himself on top of the Mosta Rotunda, armed with a ġbejna sandwich and his unyielding curiosity. Below, Dun Kiklù led the marching band through Valletta streets, inadvertently creating a conga line of tourists who thought it was a new interactive event.

With a vanishing sun and a sense of collective anticipation, the Firework-Flinging Drone Squadron™ rose. They twirled and whirled, performing an aerial ballet over Mosta, controlled by the trio on their laptops. Just as the first firework lit up the night sky, a sudden gust of wind from the Mediterranean set the drones’ synchronization awry.

Twist in the Tale

In the blink of an eye, the harmonious display turned into a cacophony of color as the drones began chasing each other, each trying to out-fly the others. The firework trails interlaced, forming what looked like a giant rabbit stew splattered across the canvas of the sky. The crowd gasped, some with admiration, others with pure befuddlement.

“Mela, what a spectacular!” chortled a tourist, misunderstanding the night’s events as a cutting-edge pyrotechnic experiment.

Just as the festa reached its frenzied peak, a drone, let’s name it ‘The Forlorn Fireflinger,’ decided to go rogue and dive-bombed into the Mosta Rotunda’s open dome, expecting to find sanctuary.

The Dome Dilemma

However, little did The Forlorn Fireflinger know that the Mosta Rotunda, famed for its bomb-resistant dome, wouldn’t take kindly to unscheduled visits. The drone, ricocheting off the indestructible dome, sputtered out of the church and crash-landed into a pastizzi vendor’s cart, causing zero casualties but a disastrous shortage of ricotta pastries.

While the festa’s firework spectacle had turned into a rogue drone derby, Spiro sat atop the dome, chuckling at the hilarity below. “These Gozitans and their gizmos,” he mused, safe in the knowledge that sometimes life is best served with a side of unpredictable excitement.

Conclusion: The Interview

When asked about the debacle, Dun Kiklù replied with a smile, “Well, at least this year’s festa will be remembered, our Lady of the Assumption certainly had her share of aerial visitors tonight.”

As for Carmnu, Meliħa, and Toni, they quickly became local celebrities, their next festa plans eagerly anticipated by both lovers of tradition and seekers of pandemonium. As for the tourists, they left Malta with stories of the festa that flew too high and a sky painted with regrettable drones.

The Times of Mela readers knew one thing for sure: whether for mandolin music, fireworks, or flying tech, there’s nothing quite like a Maltese festa to bring life’s curious twists to the fore.