Calling All Creatures of The Night....

Nightclubs...

Nightclubs are very dangerous places. All sorts of unseemly creatures roam these "clubs" (as they are known in common parlance), often hand in hand, often hand in, well, other areas...

Now a lot of these people have a certain affliction; one that is extremely dangerous, horrifying and potentially life-threatening...

This is the Evil of The Dance...

"Lets Dance" they say...

How does one explain to them that one's understanding of "rhythm" ends at the viewing of a pendulum swing back and forth on its never ending cycle?

How does one explain to them that one's knowledge of this ancient form of witchcraft, this acient form of The Dance, comes from watching the Ketchup Sisters on a random music channel at some random hour of the night?

How does one explain that he came factory fitted with two left feet instead of the usual pattern of right and left...

Of course... one simply doesnt...

Instead, one meekly says "Ok"

And lives to regret those very words...

For the night that you choose to be at that "club" happens to be the Celebrated Night of All Things Evil... the night that many at the "club" call HIP-HOP NIGHT...

What this basically means that a lot of songs sung by a lot of people from different areas of New York get played. Some of these songs are "HIP" and some are rather "HOP"

That's rather "phot" I'm told...

These songs seek to trip both your left feet and pile them into misery even further and deeper than normal... for their "rhythm" is erratic at best, and the lyrics are punctuated randomly by assorted members of the monkey family suddenly yelling "FUCK" and "BLING BLING!" (the sounds of elevator doors opening and closing inspire these people i'm told) and "MAH BOO!", the last of which i believe is a Dolphin mating call.

The members of the Evil Clan of Dance grab you and take you to the dance floor, insisting that they will "teach you" followed by this simple advice, "Watch Me"

Ummm, ok, but can't i do that from that quiet little corner with my quiet little drink?

BHUMP BHUMP goes the beat, louder than the average Concorde, re-arranging every single internal organ (BHUMP BHUMP!!)

So one takes a tentative step and slowly sticks one arm out...

"BLING BLING!" says random monkey in the song...

Hey this isn't so bad, you figure...

until dancing partner begins moving legs as well, patting your leg as if to say "Ambulate and set in motion this set of muscles"

Arms and legs... both?! Together?! Like at once?!

I AM JUST ONE MAN!!! NOT A MACHINE!!! I CAN EITHER MOVE MY HANDS OR MY LEGS!!! I AM NOT ONE OF YOU VILE PEOPLE WITH GREATER ABILITIES OF PHYSICAL CONTORTION FOOLS!

BHUMPH BHUMPH!

No that wasnt a beat, that was the sound of my last ounce of dignity and self respect hitting the floor as every single hot woman in a twenty inch radius realizes that I am incapable of graceful physical movement... Hmph... they should see me brush my teeth... I'm a God...

So i spend the rest of the evening doing the Mutated Ketchup Dance, waiting for terrorists or someone to fling the door open and take us all hostage so the evening can finally become "cool" and i'm not the only one afraid to be there anymore...

Hmph

One day a club will be opened, where all those dancing well will have their legs blown off by snipers with sawed-off shotguns...

And on that day, shall i bask in my righteous glory of retribution and revenge...