Bad Minhast Translations: Difference between revisions

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== Mistranslations from a Passive-Aggressive Translator ==

=== Little Red Riding Hood ===

#'''Intro:''' In theory, you should be able to get a good Minhast translation from the expatriate communities. An added bonus is that many dialects are represented. And if you’re pursuing a doctorate in Minhast dialects (like me), they provide an invaluable source of the Salmon Speaker dialect, a dialect that displays many conservative features. Such a dialect would be a boon to someone working on the diachronics of the language. Now the Salmon Speakers are renowned for other things besides their variety of Minhast, considered by many as a prestige dialect. The Salmon Speakers are also known for their generosity and hospitality, and their cuisine is acknowledged to be among the finest in the world. But if you hire them for translation work, be careful not to of fend them. Unfortunately, the Salmon Speakers have a dark side, namely they have a vindictive streak and can get very passive aggressive. Unfortunately, my friend in Texas found out the hard way after he contracted out work to a Salmon Speaker to translate popular Western fairy tales to sell in Minhay, and ended up getting…A BAD MINHAST TRANSLATION!™

#'''Translation Prompt:'''

#'''Bad Minhast Translation:'''

#'''Actual Meaning:'''

First of all, don’t buy this stupid MAGABanana book. The publisher screws you over after they hire you for translation work, and these stories are pretty stupid anyway. I don’t even know why I signed up for this contract!

Oh yeah, the stupid story. Well, once upon a time there was a little girl named Little Red Robbing Hood. Wait, you ask, why would anyone cut the hood off their cloak? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of having protective rain gear? How the f-[REDACTED]-k should I know? Maybe they needed to convert the rest of her cloak into more hoodies. Red hoodies. Very, very red hoodies. Cuz the Bananas like their MAGA headgear to be bright red. That’s why “Red” is part of her name. Cuz she’s another nut-job from one of those extremist hate groups.

Well, anyways, she comes to her grandmother’s house, except it’s really not. That’s because she’s got a horrible sense of direction and apparently has never heard of Google Maps. The house actually belongs to a bear family, two adults and their cub. Yeah, yeah, I know that bears live in dens, not in houses. It gets worse. The bears even have a dining room….with a dining table and chairs. Don’t ask me what the bears would be doing with furniture, this isn’t my story, this is a Banana story written by an escapee from the local loony bin. Well anyway they have porridge on the table - wait, what??? Porridge? As in those god-awful Dog Speaker canned baked beans-and-instant-oatmeal concoctions? Don’t bears eat salmon? Do you think I don’t know that? I’m a Salmon Speaker, of course I know that!

But that’s beside the point. So you’ve got these three bowls of porridge, a big bowl for the bear dad, beside it a smaller one for the bear mom, and the smallest bowl of porridge for their cub at the far end of the table. But wait, that porridge, didn’t they have to cook it? Yeah, and they used a stove to do it. Don’t ask me if it was gas or electric, I don’t know how things work in that stupid banana republic. For some reason, the bears decided to leave the house for a while. Don’t ask me why the bears went outside and let the food get cold, I have no f-[REDACTED]-g clue.

Well, anyway the little hoodlum gorges on the big bowl of porridge and complains that it’s too hot. Wait, how is it the bears left the house and the big bowl of porridge is still too hot? Maybe they nuked it in the microwave and it nearly got burnt. Maybe that’s why the bears left, to let the smoke clear out.

Then she goes to the next bowl of porridge and slurps it all down, then complains that it’s too cold. Well, if she didn’t want bad Dog Speaker porridge - I know that’s redundant, you don't need to say both “bad” and “Dog Speaker food” - she should have left while the going was still good! In any case, she goes to the last bowl and slurps it all up and says the temperature is ok. Did I tell you there’s silverware on the table, and she could have just used the spoons? Well let me ask you, when have you met a juvenile delinquent who was not a slob? And why do bears need spoons anyway? It’s not like they have opposable thumbs! But hey, I’m just the translator, and my contract said to translate this half-wit author’s idiotic story. I tried to tell him that no one in their right mind would believe this sh-[REDACTED]-y story, but he told me to shut up and translate it anyway.

So she went upstairs to the master bedroom where the father and mother bear slept. Yes, they have a bed upstairs, I know this is out of the friggin’ Twilight Zone where bears own real estate, buy luxury furniture, have gourmet kitchens to cook crappy Dog Speaker “food”, and have king-sized mattresses, as well as a Jacuzzi and potpourri in their master bedrooms.

Well, the break-in artist got snobby about the parent bears’ bed, cuz she’s some over-entitled Karen and so decided to break into the cub’s bedroom. Then she sat on his bed and thought it was the most comfortable bed she had ever encountered, so she crashed and slept there, making a big mess of the covers and pillows in the process.

Then the bear family returned and realized there was a break-in, and they told their cub to stay downstairs while they checked around. So they found Red Robbing Hoodlum, and the Banana got scared and jumped out of the window. The bears never saw her again.

Meanwhile, in the capital, there was a crisis. Apparently an egg dropped down from a ledge and got smashed. The king sent an army and ordered them to put the egg back together. Don’t ask me why anyone would want to reassemble a broken egg! They could have just thrown it in the trash and make a new batch of egg noodles, but the crazy king sent his army instead to have the medics try surgery on it. Why didn’t he send out the cooking staff? How the f-[REDACTED]-k should I know? Maybe they had budget cuts and had to lay off the kitchen staff so they wouldn’t have to make cuts in the military budget. And so without any royal chefs, they got the hair-brained idea to send a five-star general and the whole friggin’ army to deal with this national crisis.

Well, anyway the king became sad. That’s because the medics couldn’t glue the egg shell pieces together and stuff the egg yolk and egg whites back in. So they gave it a funeral and shouted, “Humpty Dumpty”. I don’t know why the Bananas give eggs funerals, and don’t ask me what a “Humpty Dumpty” is, I’ve never encountered those words while I was studying English in uni. But this is a stupid story anyway, so what does it matter?

Anyways, after Red Robbing Hoodlum ran off and hid in the woods, she got disoriented again and entered another house. There was a grandmother wolf and she was waiting for her grandcubs, but then out of the blue, the little MAGABanana swung open the door and scared the bejeezus out of the grandmother wolf. So much so the Banana almost gave the grandmother wolf a heart attack. Fortunately, her grandcubs came in the nick of time, saw what the Banana did to their poor grandmother, and they nearly mauled her to death. Then the grandmother recovered from her fright, told her grandcubs to step aside, and took a bite herself out of the little juvenile delinquent. Red Robbing MAGABanana then ran off and bumped into the saw-wielding murderer from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Unfortunately, she escaped, but at least she swore never to break into the house of any animal living in the woods ever again.

And so they all lived happily ever after. The end.

So like I said, don’t buy this dumbass’s book, it’s the stupidest thing ever written on the planet and you'll just be wasting your money. The publishing company is just a money-laundering front and hires lunatics to write Flat Earth novels, COVID conspiracy newspapers, anti-vax magazines, and incoherent children’s stories. And never, never do business with a Banana!

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Bad Minhast Translations: Difference between revisions

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