Sunday, February 20, 2011
It’s party night over at DJ Ben’s.
DJ Ben: Party people! The music’s playin’, and I want all of you out here on the dance floor!
(Crowds cheer and feet start stomping madly on the floor).
DJ Ben: You’re gonna love tonight’s music, ladies and gents. I’ll be playing a lot of your retro favourites from DJ Maestro’s time. I want you all to have a great time, and start shakin’ those booties. (Somewhere outside, DJ Maestro, long since retired, shakes in head in disapproval).
One of the fiercest clubbers, Goldie Sexy: I just love this groove. I haven’t danced this hard in like, ever. I’m so glad DJ Ben allowed me inside his exclusive club! Now I’m going to show him how dancing is really supposed to be like. (starts bumping and grinding seductively, that a lot of suitors start drooling and rush over)
Outside the club, behind the velvet line to get in, Blackie Rockie and Pim Coss shout out over the deafening music: We love you, DJ Ben! We groove to your music and just idolize you. If you let us into your exclusive club, we’ll dance the way you want us to. We won’t let you down!
Also heard outside, among the long queue of people trying to get in, are people with hedge haircuts shouting the same thing. They are none too happy to see a group of people wearing European fashion get head of the line and get inside the club. They swear among themselves they will beat these people up ‘shortly’ after these go back out of the club.
Another partier inside, JP Mortimer: I’m always uneasy with how these parties here at DJ Ben’s always end up. But hey, for as long as afterwards, these parties send over all the most booze and drug-addled partiers over to my place, for a night of guilt-free copulation, I’m not complaining. (smirks)
Neighbour HU Jinkshow(who lives next door to the club) forcibly goes inside the club and talks to the DJ: DJ Ben, your music is too loud. I can hear it all over my house, and I can’t sleep.
DJ Ben strains to hear him. What? You have to speak louder over all the noise.
Neighbour HU: I said your noise is too loud. It’s already broken several windows in my house. That’s how loud you’re playing. You have to tone it down, otherwise I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.
DJ Ben: Hey! If you don’t like loud music, you shouldn’t be attaching my amplifiers straight up to speakers all over your fuckin’ house. You’ve been amplifying my music, so don’t blame it all on me!
Neighbour HU (sheepishly): Hey, guilty as charged, DJ Ben. Your music is ‘da bomb! And I groove to your beats. I can’t help myself.
Police knock on the club’s door, and accosts the DJ.
IMF squad: We’ve been hearing reports that you’ve been playing loud music, and awaking all the neighbours. You’re going to have to tone it down, because you’re disturbing everybody’s sleep.
DJ Ben: We’re doing just fine here, officer. No loud music.
IMF squad: Ok, thank you for your cooperation.
On the way out, one of the officers asks the other: Why are we letting this pass?
Other officer: Oh hell, there’s really nothing we can do about it. DJ Ben owns the entire property here, and everybody’s just renting. So let’s best be on our way.
Meanwhile, insider the ladies room, Anna Inga Gardiner is still retching on the toilet, still reeling from the alcohol excess of the previous night’s reckless dancing. And meanwhile, another reveller from the previous revelry, Lem, is now in the morgue.
Back on the floor.
DJ Ben: Hey, party people! I can’t seem to see enough dancing out there. I’m going to have to turn up the music further. I want all of you to be dancing harder and faster. If you don’t, I’m just going to keep turning the music up further.
Random reveller: Everybody start dancing harder. We don’t want the DJ to make good on his threat. (He then starts up a conga line, which a lot people follow).
Meanwhile, across the pond, another frenetic DJ is whipping up the crowd with his house music and techno beats......
Deejay 3-shay: Everybody on the floor, feel the rhythm!
(And at that, dancers turn up the heat on the floor, and groove with moves like the Irish jig, sizzling flamenco, Thracian plate dancing, and mandolin dancing).
Back over at DJ Ben’s.
Another clubber, Biff Amra: I’m having the time of my life. I swear, I’m going to be tonight’s dance champ. I really am! Nobody’s gonna dance harder and longer than I do.
Some random reveller: Good luck on that, but that’s likely not gonna happen. C.T. over there is our reigning champ, has always been. More likely, long after everyone’s tired, but for as long as the music’s still playing, he’ll still be dancing.
Biff Amra: I just can’t stand it. How does C.T. do it?
Random reveller: It’s simple really. C.T. never sleeps.
Posted by Rogue Economist at 9:00 AM