In a whirlwind of misguided optimism and granite-solid stubbornness, the city of Portland, Maine, is embroiled in what can only be described as an epic negotiation saga. This ongoing standoff has turned city hall into a circus, complete with clowns, confused spectators, and a whole lot of shouting. Mayor Forgetful McBlunderpants, famed for his ability to remember his own name but struggle with critical details, has been leading the charge against the unyielding Granite Guild, a conglomerate of stone enthusiasts who have taken a strong stance against any attempt to modernize the city’s infrastructure. Their motto, “If it ain't granite, it ain't worth it!” can be heard echoing through the hallowed halls of city government as they refuse to budge on replacing the crumbling granite benches that line the downtown park. Despite Portland’s desperate attempt to repurpose the park for modern enjoyment, which includes plans to install a dog park, a food truck haven, and a stage for local bands, the Granite Guild stands a tower of marble-like resistance. Their members, who still believe that George Washington personally designed the granite benches himself, have relentlessly opposed any form of change. Their leader, Grandmaster Rock Solid, often seen sporting a boulder necklace, stated proudly, “These benches have survived centuries of frost, and so should our stubbornness!” In an effort to win over the stony hearts of the Granite Guild, Portland officials have tried everything from donuts to heartfelt pleas, but to no avail. A recent attempt included an awkward mediation session, where city officials mistakenly brought a sledgehammer instead of cookies, thinking they could “break the ice” (which inadvertently resulted in a Granite Guild emergency meeting to discuss structural integrity). Attendees reported that the negotiations felt less like diplomacy and more like an episode of a poorly written sitcom: members of the Granite Guild shouted nonsensical phrases like, “If we allow one dog park, they’ll want a water park next!” while Portland’s officials squirmed, trying to find a coherent retort involving public safety and happiness—two concepts that seemed like foreign languages in the current climate. As the saga continues, Portland’s citizens are growing increasingly frustrated but also entertained. “It’s like watching a slow-motion car crash,” commented local coffee shop owner and amateur philosopher, Joe Java. “You want to look away, but it’s too ridiculous to miss. I seriously can’t wait for the reality show.” Public opinion has sharply divided, with one half echoing the sentiments of the Granite Guild, insisting, “Granite is timeless!” while the other half offers a more progressive view. “We need to move into the 21st century,” argued local millennial Madeline Mobile, who fights vigorously for any cause that might involve less stone and more swings. Rumors now swirl that the Portland city council has reached out to nearby rival cities for tips on how to negotiate with stubborn entities, including a questionable shout-out to Sycamore Springs, whose residents once managed to convince their stubborn city council to replace the 90-year-old statue of a dog with one of a cat—a negotiation reportedly featuring an impromptu dance-off. As this comedic saga continues, Mainers are left wondering: Who will break first in this battle of wills between the practicality of modern amenities and the enduring iron grip of granite fidelity? Only time will tell—but if this doesn’t end in a reality show, we can assure you, the granite will stay solid as Portland's puns crumble away.