I wanted to write a comedy of errors of sort with the Moroccan nt but I realised it’s very difficult to come up with a remotely good plot line. It’s not as funny as I wanted it to be but I’ve spent too much time on it to not post it, so here goes …
P.S ignore the plot holes
P.P.S if you’ve got an actual funny story idea drop me a little 💌
Part 1 | Part 2
~
Yassine was about to nod off to sleep when his phone rang. He frowned when he saw the caller's name. Why would Bilal be calling him so late?
He sighed as he picked up, "Hello.”
"Yassine?" Bilal sounded tense on the other end. "Can you come down to my room please?"
Yassine sat up at his wary tone. "What's the matter? Is something wrong?"
"I can't tell you over the phone," Bilal whispered. "Can you please just come? It's urgent."
Yassine rolled his eyes at the secrecy. What could possibly be so urgent? It wouldn't be surprising if Bilal's urgent matter turned out to simply be that he couldn't find his passport for the trip back home tomorrow.
Ah, these young ones - so bright and yet so irresponsible sometimes.
He kicked off the blanket, pulled on his joggers, grabbed his key card, and stumbled smack across Romain who was also leaving his room. Capi looked like he had been rudely awakened from his sweet dreams.
"Did Abde call you?" He blinked up sleepily at Yassine.
Just as Yassine was about to answer, the door to Hakim's room was shoved opened and he came out, mumbling under his breath. He stopped in surprise when he saw both of them standing there.
"What are you both doing out here at this time?" He asked suspiciously, doing that thing he always did with his eyebrows.
"Did Abde call you?" Romain asked.
"Boufalinho, actually. He asked me to come down to Bilal's room."
They looked at each other, hands on their hips, as it dawned one them that there, indeed, was something wrong.
What had they done now?
~
They reached Bilal's room slightly out of breath, having basically run down four flights of stairs.
"Hey guys"
They all nearly jumped out of their skin at the voice coming from behind them. They turned around to see Sofyan standing there. Even at this late hour, he was munching on an apple.
"So, you guys have also been summoned, huh?" He asked around a mouthful.
Before they could ask him what he knew, the door opened, Nayef standing there looking nervous.
He hastily grabbed their arms, pulling them into the room. He then leaned out of the door, looking right and left down the corridor as if they were in some kind of thriller movie and there was someone spying on them out there.
Romain was pissed at all this supposed secrecy and urgency. He wanted to get back to bed, thank you very much. He walked further into the room. Most of the others were here. Aboukhlal had dozed off against Abdelhamid's shoulder, who looked relieved that they were finally here. Noussair was impatiently walking around the small room while Youssef looked as cool as a cucumber, which to be fair, was his usual state of being given how anything rarely phased him out. The others were sat on whatever empty surface they could find in the small room.
At the centre of the room, however, were the clear culprits.
Bilal looked like he was about to burst from the anxious energy radiating from him. Abde was nervously gnawing at his nails while Boufal looked like he was about to throw up.
Romain rounded up on them. "So, will one of you tell us what is happening?" He asked impatiently.
Boufal nudged Abde, who in turn nudged Bilal. They seemed to be engaged in a silent battle of who would be the sacrificial lamb.
Hakim huffed impatiently. "Get on with it, why don't you?"
"Well, the thing is.." Bilal gulped loudly, looking around the room. He took a steadying breath, looking as if he might throw up on the spot. "We lost the trophy," he mumbled under his breath.
Romain blinked unbelievably at them while the top of Hakim's ears had turned a tell-tale red.
"What do you mean you've lost the trophy?" Yassine asked through clenched teeth. "You mean the trophy that the Emir of Qatar himself gifted to us just this evening and the one that we have to present to the King tomorrow? That trophy?"
The three of them nodded dumbly, eyes downcast to avoid the increasingly murderous look in Romain’s eyes.
Yassine sighed. The whole Moroccan delegation had been invited to the Emir’s palace for a celebratory before they left Qatar. They had been hosted by the Emir himself and the dinner had been way over the top - every imaginable dish under the sun and where everything that did shine was actually gold. That level of wealth had been outrageous and all of them had been on their best behaviour. They had even nibbled daintily on the food instead of wolfing it down as was the norm.
At the end of the night, the Emir had presented them with the now missing trophy for their historic performance at the World Cup, a trophy that they needed to present to the King when they landed in Morocco tomorrow.
"Explain yourselves" Romain demanded.
"Well," Abde shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Elias and I took a selfie with it when we were still at the palace and then I gave it to Boufal," he said pointing at him. "He's the one who lost the trophy"
Boufal sputtered. "That's so not true. I gave it to Bilal. So, if there's anyone who lost it, it's him."
"I gave the trophy back to you." Bilal spun towards Boufal. "I took a selfie with it and then I gave it back to you just before we got on the bus."
"No, you didn't!"
"Yes, I did!"
"Enough you two!" Capi held up a hand. "Does anyone remember seeing the trophy on the bus?"
A pensive silence fell over the room. "I think I saw Munir with the trophy on the bus" Aboukhlal said, scratching his head.
Munir reacted as if someone had accused him of murder. "That's not true. I haven't even touched it once!"
Romain went to stand in the middle of the room, waving his hands to quieten everybody down. “So, we are all sure no one saw the trophy on the bus," he paused, looking around. "Which means only one thing - we left the trophy at the palace."
"But wouldn't someone, like a guard or something, have seen it and returned it to us by now if we left it there?" Noussair added.
"Maybe they haven't seen it yet because it's too dark?" Elias suggested.
"That place is lit up like a carnival though. If it's there, someone should have seen it already." Abdelhamid interjected.
"There's only one thing to do" Hakim went to stand next to Romain. "We break into the palace."
"And how do you suggest we do that?" Munir scoffed.
"We climb over the walls." Hakim stated as if it was the most obvious fact.
"Break into the most secure place in Qatar? Are you crazy?" Yassine retorted. "They catch you going over that wall, you're not seeing the light of day ever again."
"Or..." Sofyan started from where he had somehow managed to slump himself on the couch, "each one of us take on a guard. We incapacitate them and that way, we get in and out without anyone noticing us."
"I vote for this plan." Hakim said, high-fiving Sofyan. The rest of them looked at the two as if they were crazy.
"We just need to be reasonable about the way forward." Yassine tried, "We tell Walid and he will contact the palace to get it back."
"No, no, no" Capi gestured. "We cannot tell Walid. “The Minister of Sports is here. If he gets involved, this will become a whole diplomatic matter and the story will end up in the press."
Then Romain felt like everybody was talking over each other, each of them getting louder as they tried to get their suggestion across. Romain was questioning everything in his life that led him to being captain of this team.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Romain held his finger up to signal everyone to stay quiet as he nodded to Nayef to open the door.
I wanted to write a comedy of errors of sort with the Moroccan nt but I realised it’s very difficult to come up with a remotely good plot line. It’s not as funny as I wanted it to be but I’ve spent too much time on it to not post it, so here goes …
P.S ignore the plot holes
P.P.S if you’ve got an actual funny story idea drop me a little 💌
Part 1 | Part 2
~
"You lot are having a little get-together without me, huh?" Walid said as he walked past Nayef, giving him a pat on the shoulder.
"So, what are you guys up to?"
"Nothing." They all echoed a bit too quickly.
Walid seemed oblivious to the tense looks around the room. "Wladi, call room service and have them send up some tea," he said as he nudged Sofyan to make some room for him on the couch. "One last tea before we go, what do you say?"
~
“So, I told him …” Walid stopped to take a sip of his tea as the rest of them prayed that the end of the story was near.
Hakim felt Walid’s story was endless. He was getting anxious. He had lost count of the number of cups of karak chai Walid had drunk so far. It had been over an hour since he came, and he was showing no indication of leaving soon.
He shared a worried look with Yassine and Romain - time was getting away from them and they would be in deep trouble if they didn't make a move soon.
Yassine shifted closer to Bilal who had ended up standing next to him. "Pretend you're feeling sleepy," he whispered.
"What? Why?" Bilal whispered back.
"Fine, fine" He conceded at the look Yassine gave him.
"I think it's time for me to go to bed" Yassine cringed at the exaggerated yawn Bilal gave.
"Ah, would you look at the time!" Romain said, making a whole show of looking at his watch. "We should all go to bed if we want to be fresh and rested for the flight tomorrow."
Walid looked reluctant to leave, taking a long sip of his tea. "Well, then!" Walid said, slapping his knees like every typical dad as he got up.
“I should get to bed too. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. See you all bright and early for checkout!”
Everyone watched in tense silence as the door closed behind him, then they all broke into chaos.
"We need balaclavas to hide our face!"
"Where the hell are we getting balaclavas at this hour?!"
"This is not heist movie that we need balaclavas!"
"We can just break the cameras with stones!"
"Let's go, l'm ready to tackle some guards!"
"No Sofyan, you're not tackling anybody!"
"Stop it!" Romain shouted. "We just need to be logical about this."
"First, we need to narrow down the possible location of the trophy. That place is huge. We can't waste time trying to search for it everywhere"
"If what Bilal and Boufal said is accurate, the trophy was last seen just before we got on the bus." Yassine pursed his lips, "My guess is that it's still somewhere around there."
"If I remember correctly," Hakim scratched his chin thoughtfully, "the bus left through the west gate. So, the west side has to be our point of entry."
“Right then!” Romain clapped his hands, and gestured for all of them to huddle together as they usually did before a match.
"Bilal and Aboukhlal, you two stay here and cover for us if someone looks for us. Yassine, Youssef and Hakim, you'll be responsible for retrieving the trophy. Munir, Abdelhamid and Sofyan, you're covering their backs. You'll be responsible for neutralising any threat. Abde, Boufal and I will stay outside of the compound and be on the lookout." Romain instructed.”
“Understood?”
“Yes Capi!”
Then, they were on the move, all of them somehow fitting in the same lift, with Elias complaining all the way down for being squished into Sofyan’s pecs. They stumbled out into the warm night air and came to an abrupt stop.
Walid was standing just outside, looking rather unsurprised to see them.
“Aha! I knew it! I knew you were hiding something from me!” He snapped his fingers victoriously. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nn…nothing” they all stuttered.
“Bilal?” Walid fixed his I’m disappointed stare on him.
Bilal was only that strong, after all. He stumbled through the whole story, ending with their half-baked plan to retrieve the trophy.
Walid advanced on them, shaking his head in disappointment. They all held their breath as they waited for his angry outburst, which would be totally understandable. But they’d forgotten that Walid was Walid.
“I’m disappointed in you,” he said, looking at each one of them. “I thought I have earned enough of your trust for you to know that you can always come to me, whatever the problem is.”
“So let’s go!”
They all looked at him in surprise.
“What?! You don’t want to get the trophy back? It’s going to be light soon. We need to move!”
“Are you serious?” Hakim asked. They were idiots for not having gone to Coach in the first place. How could they have ever doubted that he wouldn’t do his absolute best to get them out of trouble?
“But wait … how are we getting there?” Yassine asked. They’d truly not considered the most important points.
"Yassine, my son, when I say to trust me, you need to trust me. Dir niya"
~
Some twenty minutes later, they were on their way.
Romain rather not question how Walid had procured a 7-seater in such a short amount of time. The man truly could work wonders no other person could. He just wished it was a bigger car because he had Sofyan sitting nearly in his lap.
Walid stopped the car a safe distance from the palace compound.
"Abde, you're in the driver's seat," Walid said, opening the driver's door. "Keep the car running. We need to be ready to drive away at any time."
"Bilal, you stay here and be on the lookout for any trouble. The rest of you follow me."
They left the car, walking as quietly as they possibly could. They shuffled along the wall hoping no one would notice them. At the corner, they all stopped, waiting for Walid to give the all-clear, then they quickly rounded the corner.
"There! That's the west gate!" Hakim whispered.
"See there," Yassine pointed to a spot a few meters ahead. "I think this is a blind spot. The nearest camera is pointed in the opposite direction. This is the perfect spot for us to jump the walls."
Walid turned around and gestured for everybody to come closer. "Yassine and Youssef, you two are the tallest so you need to help the others over the wall. Boufal, Nayef and I are staying here in case something goes wrong."
"Come on, my lions," Walid clasped Yassine and Youssef on the shoulder. "Get to work."
Yassine and Youssef crouched down, linking their hands together to create a sort of stepping stone. Up went Hakim, then Romain, Sofyan and Munir. Finally, Walid and Boufal helped Yassine and Youssef over.
Boufal grunted as he helped boost them up the wall. “These two really need to lay off the harissa.” He muttered as he bent at the waist to catch his breath.
Once over the wall, the boys assessed their options. Their bus had been parked on the far side across from where they currently were. To get there, they'd have to cross an open courtyard, which in their mind, seemed to be the most herculean task. They looked at one another in apprehension.
What if there was a sniper hidden somewhere, waiting to shoot them, one after the other as they attempt to cross the open space?
"We need to get to the other side without being seen." Romain fished his phone out of his pocket, fumbling to turn the flashlight on.
"Yeah, well" Hakim's voice was sarcastic. "We're not going very far with you waving that flashlight around."
"Fine, fine. I'm switching it off."
"I can see you rolling your eyes at me even in the dark"
"Guys, can we not?" Yassine cut them off. "We are definitely getting caught if you two keep on fighting."
Munir took a big breath and slowly let it out. "All right, guys," he said, cuffing his sleeves. "I guess we don't have any other options but to run very fast and very quick across that open space."
Romain nodded, agreeing with Munir. "Ok guys, on three" he said, lightly jumping on his feet as if he was warming up before a match.
"One ...
Two...”
And they were off. Romain cursed under his breath as the others jumped the start. He started after them, crouching low to avoid being detected. They reached the spot where the bus was parked, all of them looking around frantically.
"Look behind those pots there." Yassine whispered urgently.
Hakim bent down, peering behind one of the big ceramic pots that bordered the far wall. Was that a glint of something he saw? He reached out, his hand connecting with something metal. Hell yeah, this had turned out easier than they had thought. His hand curled around the base of the trophy as he carefully shimmied it out from behind.
“Found it!”
“Hell yeah man!” Sofyan high-fived him.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
They ran across the courtyard, high on the adrenaline of a successful mission. They felt almost invincible - after all, they were too good. No one would even know they had lost trophy.
They reached their point of entry. One after the other, Youssef and Yassine boosted the others up the wall.
Youssef crouched down as he tipped his head towards the wall. “Khoya, you go first.”
Yassine shook his head. “I’m the last line of defence. I don’t go anywhere until everybody is safe. You go first.”
Youssef was about to argue, which frankly they didn’t really have time for, when Yassine shushed him.
“Someone’s coming.” Shit shit shit. They hadn’t made it here so far for them to fail at the last minute.
“Quick, quick” Yassine almost tackled Youssef to the ground in his hurry to get him up the wall.
The voices were getting closer now. Youssef hung over the top of the wall, his hand extended towards Yassine as he silently urged him on. Yassine took a deep breath, moved back a few steps as he gathered enough speed to launch himself as high up the wall as he could.
Somehow, he managed to grab Youssef’s hand, scraping his elbow in the process. Sofyan appeared besides Youssef as he gestured for Yassine to grab his hand. Together, they pulled him over as fast as they could. Then, they were on the move again, rushing towards the car. They piled into the car, tripping over each other and not caring that they were nearly sitting on top of each other. Hakim had barely closed the door before Abde peeled away like a GTA gateway car.
For the first few minutes, they all stayed quiet, catching their breath as the enormity of what they’d just done dawned on them. Then, Walid turned around and smiled at them. They burst out laughing in relief.
Dir niya, indeed.
~
The next day, the PR head of the Moroccan National team was feeling exasperated but mostly confused.
The buses were lined outside. The hotel staff had gathered in the lobby for the farewell of the team. A healthy number of international press was waiting outside to capture the departure of the team from Qatar. They had a strict schedule of celebration to follow starting with the broadcast of the team’s arrival in Rabat and ending with dinner at the King’s palace, but yet, the players were nowhere to be seen.
“Coach Walid,” she marched towards him as he finally made an appearance. It was a bit surprising to see that he didn’t look as well put-together as he usually did. “We have been waiting for you and your team, sir. We’re running late.”
“I apologise, Miss Asma, but they are on their way down now.” It had taken Walid numerous calls to each of them before he managed to get them all out of bed.
“Here they are now.” Asma watched horrified as the lift doors opened and the players came out. They looked like they’d gotten dressed in their sleep. In fact, they looked like they were barely awake. It would take some heavy-duty concealer to hide those eye-bags they were all sporting.
Coach Walid looked at her and smiled sheepishly. “They’re just not morning people.”
