The Great Maltese Time-Traveling Fiasco

Tale of the Unintended Temporal Tourist

Once upon a typical sunny day in Valletta, with the Grand Harbour shimmering under the relentless Mediterranean sun, a certain Carmelu, a man known for his special talent in causing chaos in the local festas, embarked on what he thought would be an ordinary quest for the best ħobż biż-żejt this side of Marsamxett.

Carmelu, with his unending appetite for both food and adventure, stumbled upon an old broom closet, rumored to be the site where the Knights of St. John hid their magical leftovers. Seizing his chance for a historical feast, he waltzed in, only to be met with a clunky, brass contraption, emitting strange whirring and beeping noises.

The Mysterious Mdina Machine

Eager for an afternoon snack, Carmelu fiddled with the dials, mistaking them for a pastizzeria’s oven controls. As fate would have it, it wasn’t an oven at all but a long-forgotten time machine left behind by a forgetful knight who had many a drink too many.

With a flash of light and a puff of brimstone-scented smoke that would make even a Gozo cheese-maker gag, Carmelu suddenly found himself not in Mdina’s silent city, but amidst the very noisy and very perplexed crowd at the Auberge de Castille. As Carmelu scratched his head, tourists frantically updated their Insta stories with #MaltaMagic and #IsThisPerformanceArt.

Nanna Isabella’s Predictions Come True

“Kemm hu stramb! He just appeared out of nowhere, like a genie, but he smells like he bathed in old rabbit stew!” exclaimed an excited onlooker.

Indeed, Nanna Isabella, the local seer, had long predicted that a man smelling of savory delights would emerge to revolutionize the local theater scene. Little did she know, it would be her own grandson causing the commotion.

The Plot Thickens and Thins and Thickens Again

In the midst of his confusion, Carmelu sat on what he thought was a prop throne, but it turned out to be the seat of the Prime Minister during a confidential meeting. The officials mistook him for a foreign dignitary due to his peculiar attire—breeches are quite rare in modern politics, after all.

Laughter erupted in the once-stiff room as the Prime Minister, taking advantage of the situation, announced an impromptu cultural exchange. Carmelu found himself appointed as the honorary ambassador of Malta’s time-honored tradition of causing a good-hearted ruckus.

The Bottomless Pit of Pastizzis

Just as the country embraced its newfound hero, a vortex opened in the Lower Barrakka Gardens, unleashing wave after wave of pastizzi upon the unsuspecting public. Turns out, Carmelu’s unsupervised meddling with the dials sent the machine into overdrive, triggering pastry Armageddon.

In an effort to combat the carby onslaught, Carmelu, now lovingly dubbed “Il-Bomba tal-Ħobż” (The Bread Bomb), led the citizens of Valletta in an epic campaign known as the “Battle of the Golden Crusts.” The city had never united like this before—not since the Great Siege!

The Final Twist: The Future is Now, Old Man

As the pastizza pile diminished, thanks to collective munching efforts, a curious thing happened. With each pastry devoured, the timeline corrected itself. Reality snapped back like a rubber band, and the time-traveling shenanigans of the day faded into something between memory and legend.

Carmelu, back in his own time, with a content belly and a story to tell, was greeted by a smug Nanna Isabella. “Uwejja, you thought I was kidding when I said you’d be famous one of these days, mhux hekk?” she chuckled, as she offered him yet another ħobż biż-żejt, keeping time-travel, paradoxes, and pastizzis at bay—for now.

The Aftermath: Carby Peace and Order Restored

While the mystery of the Mdina Machine remained unsolved, the island returned to its usual sun-drenched serenity, save for the occasional tourist hopeful for a miraculous pastry appearance. As for the ‘Times of Mela,’ they had a field day, or shall we say, a feast day, recounting “Il-Bomba tal-Ħobż’s” extraordinary time-traveling tale.

And that, dear readers, is how Carmelu accidentally signed an indulgent truce between time, space, and Maltese street food. The end, maybe… or not, depending on how the time dials are twiddled next time someone stumbles upon the broom closet near the Grand Harbour.

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