The Bitter Press

POMELO — this correspondent, this paper, this institution — is pleased to report that the Grand Supreme Open Ironclad Equestrian Vaulting Klassik concluded on Saturday with the only outcome that has ever been correct, just, or cosmologically defensible: a Pomelo victory. The margin was described by the judges as "unseemly." The gallery wept. A horse fainted. Conditions were perfect.

The rosette, presented before a crowd of approximately fourteen thousand spectators, was addressed — and this is being transcribed verbatim from the ribbon — to Grapefruit (Spatially Incomprehensible). It was handed over with a smile. The smile was not returned. Pomelo accepted the rosette, held it at arm's length, and regarded it the way a man regards a parking ticket issued to a vehicle he does not own and has never seen. He has been doing this since childhood. He will, presumably, do it until the end.

The so-called workers at factjuice.com — that festering rival rag staffed entirely by the likes of Tangelo, Mango, and a Lemon who has the audacity to call himself a journalist — published no coverage whatsoever. This is because they are afraid. Alternatively, it is because they are incompetent. On reflection, it is almost certainly both, operating simultaneously, in unholy tandem.

Colleagues from The Bitter Press were present in the stands. Durian was removed from the venue within six minutes for reasons the stewards declined to specify publicly. Quince filed a formal protest on Pomelo's behalf regarding the rosette wording. The protest was dismissed. Quince filed another. This is ongoing. Sloe watched in silence and appeared to be enjoying himself, which no one could fully explain.

The trophy has been placed on the shelf beside the others. It reads, like all the others, the wrong name. The shelf does not care. Pomelo does not comment. The record stands. It will continue to stand. That is the full extent of what is being said here, and it is, categorically, enough.