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Libby, Disco, and the Bees

by on February 8, 2011

Note: this story was written in the mode of the Whose Line game “Film, TV, and Theatre Styles”, the styles having been suggested by some of my friends and randomly chosen by me. I picked the style in which the story opens; it’s a parody of…well, you can probably guess. Heh.

Rain pattered on the window like a chorus of hyperactive tap-dancing crickets. The gloomy weather was a perfect match to Libby’s mood. “Alas,” she declaimed dramatically to no one in particular (she had a habit of doing this). “I am giving thought to how I might die, and it is a woeful prospect indeed! I could perish of some dreadful disease, I could fall victim to strange mythological beasties, I could be most cruelly crushed by a rogue cement mixer! Oh what tragic misfortune could potentially be mine!”

At that moment, by sheer random happenstance, lightning flashed in the window. The electric glare lit up Libby’s room, revealing the tall stranger standing heretofore unseen in the corner. “Oh, it’s YOU!” Libby gasped, instantly recognizing him. She had already had many long conversations with him, in fact, via Skype and Facebook and even, once or twice, in person. By now, she’d realized exactly who he really was. Not only that, but she’d prepared a little speech about it. Dramatically she produced a set of flashcards and began to read.  “Your skin is… pale white, and ice cold. Your eyes change color… and sometimes you speak like – like you’re from a different time. You must be…”

“Say it.” he said, with equal drama.

“A time-traveling disco dancer from the 70s.”

He nodded. “Psychadelic, hepcat. Now what say we lay down some groovy tunes and like totally get down with the beat. Word.”

Disco lights began to float romantically around the room. Libby gasped again. “Oh, Eddie C, master of disco and 70s lore, will you marry me?”

“I…can’t,” he replied, with all the powerful eloquence of William Shatner. “If. I. Did. You. Might. Be. Killed. By. My. Incredible. Disco-ness. Word.”

“Noooo!” Libby wailed. “Isn’t there any way our sad star-crossed romance can end in a happy conclusion?”

“Well…”

*David Lynch movies, which I’ve never seen but I understand are quite surreal*

“I am a banana.”

“No, you are a grapefruit.”

“If six is brown and five is blue, what color is seventeen?”

“Albequerque.”

“I’m dreaming that I am a sea slug.”

“Alas, you are not the sea slug…for you see, I am the sea slug!”

“But then that must mean…”

*M*A*S*H*

*eeeeeeeeeee BOOM*

“The North Koreans are shelling us!”

“WHAT?” Libby screamed. “But this is suburban Cleveland! How could they possibly-”

Eddie shoved Libby aside and under a convenient nearby table. “Mule fritters! Don’t argue, Major, just patch me through to I-corps!”

“But I’m not a major and I don’t even know what I-corps is!”

“Horse hockey! By the way, do you know why there’s never a Communist under your bed?”

“Wha-”

“Because they’re all in the Lenin closet.”

“The what?”

*Winnie-the-Pooh*

“Oh look,” Eddie exclaimed, “I was mistaken; they’re not North Koreans, they’re bees!”

“BEES?” Libby gasped again, resolving privately to find another verb she could use to express her increasing confusion other than ‘gasped’.

“Quick, cover yourself with mud and disguise yourself as a little black rain cloud!”

“Okay, one, we’re indoors. Two, there’s no mud in my room, due to the fact that we’re, as I have stated, indoors. And three-”

Suddenly, due to a whimsy on the author’s part, Libby and Eddie found themselves standing outside, right in a conveniently placed puddle of mud. A blue balloon just then randomly happened to float by. Resigning herself to the inevitable, Libby covered herself in mud and gripped tightly onto the balloon, hoping that she would somehow fool the bees who were even then starting to swarm suspiciously around her. Trying frantically to remember the A.A. Milne book she’d received as a birthday present when she was three, Libby broke into the Cloud Song. Unfortunately, she had gotten it mixed up with the Hallelujah Chorus.

“HAAAALLELUJAH!  HAAAALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLEEELUJAAAAH!”

This should have spelled the end for Libby, but fortunately for her, these were a colony of super-intelligent bees who were quite familiar with the traditional custom of standing respectfully while the Chorus is sung. As they couldn’t really stand in midair, they hovered instead. As they were respectfully hovering and even buzzing along with the chorus, Libby took the opportunity to make her escape, Eddie trailing off behind her, whistling “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” as he went. And they all lived happily ever after.

 

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2 Comments
  1. Karen permalink

    Once again, well done.

    The Shatner thing was great and the disco dancer thing made me laugh out loud.

    You have outdone yourself!

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