2020-07-01 The Curse of Terpsichore
The Curse of Terpsichore
Location: Winters Retreat
Date and Time: July 1, 2020 12:01 am
Summary: The Curse of Terpsichore strikes
Mood Music: Larry Levan "Live at The Paradise Garage (1979)"
When All the World’s a Stage, sometimes you’ll find yourself driven to the stage of madness ...
LUU: Jinny! I didn’t know who else to call!
Slight panic in the voice, her breathing heavy from physical exertion, clearly shouting yet barely audible. The heavy beat of disco from Larry Levan performing at the Paradise Garage, and as if to explain the vocals are heard to say, “Dancin’!”
LUU: Grab your skates! Grab your paints! Anything! Just get to my place! I held your hair back when you vomited, you owe me!
LUU: No one must know.
Her voice in a mock-mock German accent is punctuated by her cackle, making it clear that all is not well tonight at Winters’ Retreat.
As we fade in from darkness we move through an iron gate, down a gravely road, until a foreboding Jacobean otherwise known as the ‘Laurel Canyon Mummy House’ comes into view. To the beat, the windows light up in a shifting array of bright colors, as if there was an alien invasion taking place just inside it’s doors ...
The Dream Jinny and The Luu-Murian Triangle
Starring in ...
THE CURSE OF TERPSICHORE
And when the sun goes down
My fantasies run wild
When midnight comes around
I really come alive
At midnight!
Oh, I really come alive
(Midnight, midnight)
Oh, my fantasies run wild
(Midnight, midnight)
I got so much energy
(Midnight, midnight)
Yeah, deep inside of me, girl
This is not exactly where she expected to end up this evening.
Standing at the entrance of the estate, where the asphalt and concrete of the city-maintained streets transitions to the decomposed granite and gravel driveway, a woman who was summoned stands alone. A woman who did stop to grab her skates on the way over as requested. A woman who told no-one else she was coming here. In fact, officially she was at her apartment by all normal metrics; electricity was being used, water was being used for washing, and Netflix was playing Mystery Science Theater: 3000. Her cell phone was even there, steadily checking in with the wireless network and the cell towers nearby which meant, for all usual metrics, she was there.
Except, she wasn’t.
Jinny had been out painting that evening, so she took all the necessary precautions to separate her private life from her public persona. Her attire wasn’t bold, brash, or flashy; in order to maintain her anonymity while breaking several public nuisance laws regarding graffiti on objects or places one did not have direct ownership of, there were certain things that had to be done. After all, one did not get away with metaphorical murder on a near weekly basis by letting blood or in this case, paint, mar your otherwise pristine countenance. In fact, the only contact anyone might have with her was from a small subset of phone numbers filtered through an anonymous forwarding service set up by a Virtual Adept acquaintance of hers, which dumped to voicemail because, when the muse strikes, it’s often quite insistent. Listening to the steadily more frantic messages, she went. Those messages, full of disco and madness, were why she found herself here, now, gazing up at the house that seems to be undergoing an internal extravaganza that wouldn’t look out of place in the cocaine-fueled heyday of the 70’s. This can’t be the reason she was called out, was it? Just a party?
No, no, it couldn’t be that. Something like that wouldn’t require such a panicked voice mail or a forced Schwartzenegger accent, and there was just a feeling Jinny had in her gut that said that this wasn’t for something silly. It couldn’t be. Calls to Luu’s cell phone while on the way over there were left unanswered, and with the gate half-open, she couldn’t get her Vespa through. Once it’s parked and locked up, it’s with a bit of trepidation that she heads up the driveway towards Laurel Canyon Mummy House, sneakers crunching on the driveway as she walks. She feels very much like a main character in a horror movie, or someone Scooby Doo; probably Daphne, because she had the hair already, but sadly, not the awesome vintage outfit. One at a time she mounts the steps leading to the ornate front door and, despite the sounds of a party going on inside, she rings the doorbell before trying the knob to see if it’s unlocked.
The front door begins to slowly creak open, lights and bass distorting the senses. Not even a moment to process the unprocessable before Jinny is grasped by hands and pulled right through the door in almost violent fashion. There is no cannibalistic frenzy that follows, no orgy of blood; the person that grasped Jinny disappears into the Jacobean almost as suddenly as she arrived, leaving only a home overtaken by Disco Madness.
Other than Jinny, the cavernous room is devoid of other people; if they were once here, they’ve since been abducted. A UFO has descended from the ceiling, or more precisely, a Disco Ball surrounded by lights in a way that makes it look like some sort of an alien spacecraft. Smaller lights point in towards the ball and then reflect back across the room. On each of the ‘Ones’ of the Larry Levan provided Disco beat, a different one of the larger lights goes off, multi-colored spotlights transformed into alien tractor beams. Two SRM-450s off to the side on poles provide the blistering soundtrack, filling the emptiness of the room with bass.
There’s what sounds like a scream from the other room, and all the sudden someone or something is rushing straight for Jinny at an incredible speed. Fortunately, it’s just Luu in some strange manic state; unfortunately, it’s Luu in a strange manic state that Jinny now has to deal with.
While Luu might normally be described as having rainbow hair, today it’s quite literally that; hair dyed every which color twisted-up into nearly a dozen fashionably sloppy buns. While there might be a more literal flying saucer above them, this also describes the manic and dilated look in her eyes; looking as if nostalgia for the 70s took a detour through her nose. The expression on her face is one of near giddy amusement, and yet there’s also elements of a just contained panic. The sheen of sweat on her forehead indicates she’s been at whatever this is for sometime now.
Whatever’s going on inside The Laurel Canyon Mummy House, Luu has certainly dressed for the occasion. A shimmering golden basketball jersey -- Luule 23 -- with black detailing almost completely obscures a pair of itty bitty black athletic shorts with golden trimming. The various Disco lights both wash over it and refract in all directions. For anyone else, this might be the outfit, but for Luu, tonight, these are mere accessories.
Allowing her to glide through the house are a pair of gold, patent leather boots mounted on a silver plated base in the shape of a talaria. Two wings on either side of the boot hold it securely in place. The rather worn stopper is shaped like a ruby red gem with sparkles infused into the rubber. Truck and wheels have had attention lavished on them as well. The steel of the truck has been exquisitely tooled into the shape of clouds, and the wheels are prismatic sunbursts with the signs of the zodiac on them. Thick, rainbow-sparkle laces are carefully laced through the blue coated eyes of the boot. Applique patches of musical notes adorn the boot itself. These Seven-League Roller-Skates exude a heavy resonance; ominous, magickal, powerful, and blessed -- and tonight cursed -- by an Olympian divine.
“I fucked up,” is the clearest explanation for the situation, shouted by Luu as she zips around Jinny, doing The Hustle.
With growing unease Jinny watched the front door slowly creak open, the music and lights spilling forth, barely contained by the walls of the estate, the throbbing bass making her inadvertently want to tap her toes and join in. No, not yet, not until it’s figured out why she was called at this unholy hour to a party in the middle of the Hollywood hills. She squeals as she’s grabbed and pulled inside, stumbling, twisting to face the door once she’s able and watching as it slams itself shut, listening to the sounds of polyurethane wheels heading off into the distance, faster than she can see. She does turn to watch the locks working themselves to ensure that her exodus would not be an easy one. Not until this is solved, at least.
Pushing the hood of her black sweatshirt back to reveal ruddy cheeks with a line of spattered pink that was managed to avoid the seal of her mask, Jinny turns to take in the spectacle that’s making itself known in THX Surround Sound and IMAX. In her one visit to the Mummy House, nothing like this made itself evident. There wasn’t a UFO-shaped disco ball, there wasn't a gigantic sound system that rivaled some downtown EDM clubs, and there definitely was no ballroom stripped of all furnishings and converted into a makeshift roller disco. Sure, she had drunk a little and was kind of out of it, but surely she would have noticed this on her exodus from the place after her shower! She moves forward into the midst of the maelstrom, leaving her bag next to the door and wincing with each thud of bass, wishing that she had remembered her ear plugs.
To her credit, she wasn’t putting them in and didn’t even have them available. If she had, the scream from the other room might have gone unnoticed. Jinny whirls just in time to watch a basketball jersey clad Rainbow streaking across the room towards her, shifting a step or two towards the middle of the room once she recognizes who it is, staying out of the way so Luu doesn’t careen into her. With the speed she’s got going on, that kind of impact would not feel good. “Luu?” She questions as Van McCoy implores her to do the Hustle, over and over again with flute and synth combining to form an infectious, danceable beat.
The reveal. Jinny blinks as Luu circles, shrugging out of her sweatshirt to reveal a plain white tank top beneath, the gray of her bra showing through, one strap threatening to fall off her shoulder. She pulls that up and tosses the hooded sweatshirt over to the side, out of the way, circling on her sneakers as Luu orbits. “Okay. So you fucked up. How do we unfuck you?” questions as the song transitions from ‘The Hustle’ to Michael Jackson’s ‘Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough,’ the triumphant strings swelling, the lights transitioning to a fluttering sparkle of blue, green, and orange before the bass takes hold. “I got my paints, I got my skates. What’s all this?” she gestures to the music around. A beat. “And what do you need me to do? How can I help you right now?”
“I got distracted,” Luu starts to explain as she spirals around the room, her hands moving through American Sign Language and Hermetic mudras to the pulsing beat. “The skates,” she continues to explain as she twirls around Jinny, “are blessed by the Muses, but they’re also cursed by the Muses. My phone ran out of batteries, forgot to alert me, and well now, they’re angry.”
Kicking one leg back, Luu puts her arms forward and does the Superman, passing from the main room into the side room. Returning at great speed, she leaps and nails a triple axle. “This world is a bitch girl,” she quotes to Jinny, “don’t end up in a ditch girl.”
Looping around Jinny, she explains, “So you owe me one. For holding your hair back when you vomited, for the horrible things you did to my mannequin, and -- and just because I’m awesome, you owe me. It’s a marathon, though, so you gotta pace yourself. For me? It’s a marathon made of sprints.”
Wiping her arm across her brow, a puddle of sweat lands on the make-shift roller dance floor. The alien lights shimmer as they hit it. While there’s a ton of color in Luu’s hair and her outfit, most of it seems to be leaving her face. It’s been a couple of hours now of non-stop roller disco hijinks, and as good a shape as she is in, it’s taking a toll. That is in fact the purpose. For missing her duties this month, Luu is going to skate until she drops, and there’s absolutely nothing that she can do to prevent it. Already Luu is beginning to take on a sweaty pallor, and her only consolation is that Jinny, her homosexual life partner, is here to keep her company with skates, paints, and who knows what else.
The commotion has attracted some attention. Up at the top of the stairs, something watches them, hidden in the shadows, it’s eyes glowing. As one of the tractor beam lights comes close to revealing it’s position, it thinks better of what it’s doing and skitters away back to it’s hiding place that even Luu doesn’t know exists.
“I’m going to be sore when this is all over,” Luu let’s Jinny know as she skates backwards, raising her hands to the heavens, and shaking out the sparkle fingers. “Next month,” she begins to say, “we can’t let this happen again. We’re going to have to go out to a rink. OK?” Zipping towards Jinny, Luu commands, “Pinky swear!” With her pinky out, she hooks onto Jinny’s, and pulls the other woman as they make their oath.
Lovely is the feeling now
Fever, temperatures rising now
Power is the force, the vow
That makes it happen, it asks no questions why
So get closer
To my body now
Just love me
'Til you don't know how
Part of Jinny, a small part, wants to argue that getting sick from drinking a little too much and accidentally breaking a mannequin while in a blackout state is not exactly equal to a taking part in a roller dance party that will probably end up with Luu passed out on the floor from exertion, but the friend part, the good, pure part that controls most, if not all, of Jinny’s actions, begs to differ. The explanation of what is going on will inevitably come at a later time; what the wonder is, what the curse is, exactly how to prevent it from happening next time, but with the sultry sounds of Michael Jackson urging them to not stop until they get enough, there’s really nothing more she can do but join in. “I’ll mark my calendar. Twenty-nine days from today we’ll go to a rink and do…whatever it is the wonder wants, so there’s a little bit of a buffer and you don’t burn yourself to a cinder trying to keep up this pace” Most of this conversation is shouted in disjointed parts as Luu skates from room to room at a high rate of speed, Jinny retrieving her things, pulling off her boots, switching out her socks for a thicker, more comfortable pair, and pulling out her skates which, were Luu not preoccupied with staying upright and mobile, would definitely catch her attention since they almost certainly fall into the category of ‘designer, but not at first glance.’
Turquoise suede studded intermittently with rhinestones gleam in the pulsing disco lights like dewdrops on a leaf, the white laces and translucent cream wheels acting as an emphasis that yes, these are roller skates and yes, they look amazing. The wheels are a bit wider than usual and, oddly enough, it looks like the logos of the brands of the parts used to make the skates have been miniaturized and sewn into the leather along with what appears to be pinstripes embroidered in. A jagged logo that looks like a hand making a shadow of a bunny’s head with the title ROCKET BUNNY in white cursive just below. These are definitely Jinny’s skates because she pulls them on and laces them up without having to adjust them in the least. Bending to twist the adjustable toe stops to give her a little more maneuverability (and potentially giving Luu a glimpse of her cleavage), Jinny gets to her feet, tapping a toe on the floor to get her foot settled just so. A pair of bottles of water from her paint bag are pulled out, one slipped into the hip pocket of her shorts, the other held at the ready.
She’s really not dressed for this. Normally she’d wear something tight on her legs to go beneath her shorts, partially for looks, but mostly to protect her thighs. Hopefully the cutoffs won’t chafe her too terribly badly. Still, this is going to be a marathon, so off comes her shirt, leaving her in just a cute sports bra and cutoff shorts and skates. Something not out of place on a beach, but in the middle of a Hollywood Mansion? The outfit would push boundaries in most places, but here? Probably not out of place. Still, if this is going to be a workout, she’s going to work. She owes that much to Luu, after all. “Pinky swear!” She calls out as a melting rainbow charges back into the main room in a parabolic arc, Jinny running on her skates to pick up speed, pumping her legs and arms to match velocities with the woman just as the chorus kicks in!
Keep on with the force don't stop
Don't stop 'til you get enough
Keep on with the force don't stop
Don't stop 'til you get enough
Keep on with the force don't stop
Don't stop 'til you get enough
Keep on with the force don't stop
Don't stop 'til you get enough
Winters Retreat is the sort of home that at one point was covered with very tasteful and elegant wallpaper. The times have changed, but the wallpaper has not. While wallpaper is beginning to come back into style, the way it’s used has changed significantly, but not so much that peeling and damaged wallpaper are in vogue. Because of this, or perhaps just because of the sort of manic creative energy that comes from being possessed by the Muse, Luu begins to do some redecorating.
Skating a forward Grapevine into a reverse Grapevine, Luu moves along the wall with a can of spray paint in each hand. Given the length of the wall, there’s no way for her to focus on a tight graphical space, nor would the need to be in motion allow it. What begins to form on the wall is abstract and yet inspired, as if the two lines form the Tigris and Euphrates, and guarantee a future cultural and aesthetic revolution that will spring forth from them.
This is it
Get on up and be yourself (free yourself)
Only you've got the key
There's no one else
Don't be afraid, no
I'm waiting just for you
And if it takes you all night long
I'll see you through
After a few loops, Luu bends way back until she’s practically horizontal, the movements in her hips keeping the beat. Somehow still managing to skate like this, her rainbow hair just barely drags along the floor, marking a trail of perspiration. As she goes, she twirls the spray cans around each other and as she makes her markings. The strenuous activity seems to cause the color to drain from her and manifest on the wall.
Spinning around, Luu rights herself right into a backflip followed by a twirl. The look on her face is proud, joyous, and pained.
The cans spray rich, bright colors, the nozzles sending a thick gush of paint over the peeling wallpaper, the ball rattling as their colors are expelled. Jinny, when she does her art on the street, specializes in scenes that seem to pop off of the wall, and most of her colors are one shade brighter than you might normally find in reality. The pinks she uses are pinker, the yellows are more vibrant, and blues rival the sky on a clear day in the desert and the cans provided to Luu are from the bag she brought along with her. Most were half empty from the first mural she put up on Sunset of Hello Kitty dressed as Neo from the Matrix, offering treats shaped like various brands in blue and different red fruits to passersby from the wall. A strange juxtaposition of styles, sure, but something that definitely would get a giggle from someone walking past. This, though? This art Luu’s doing now? It’s unrefined at the very least - childish at the best of times, but brilliance often strikes at the most odd spots. Jinny, as she skates behind Luu, turns to follow the lines as they intersect and splay off from each other, the spray fanning out with the erratic movement of the Grapevine and the lean.
“You should drink some water, if you can.” She calls, snagging her bag and skating over, dragging her toe to slow herself in the midst of the disco dance party to come to a stop in front of the wall, turning to watch Luu skate impossibly by and then back to the wall. She reaches out with a fingertip to trace the shapes that are repeating over and over again, stepping back to take in the whole wall before dropping her bag, claiming a can in each hand, and leaning in to paint.
Luu’s lines are incorporated easily, the lighter lines underscored with darker colors that give it an almost shadow-like look before another, brighter color is sprayed in a thin line on the inside. This gives the effect that the line itself is glowing in a neon color - pink and yellow, in this case - Jinny bouncing along to the beat as she follows along the wall, the hiss of the color, looking up as the end of the second verse echoes her feelings about what’s going on.
Don't be afraid, no
I'm waiting just for you
And if it takes you all night long
I'll see you through
Time passes and Jinny paints. She looks to see where Luu is from time to time before rolling back to look at the work, and as she works, it becomes clear what she’s doing. Luu’s lines have been incorporated into a mural of triangles that span the wall, twisting and turning as the lines did, the space between filled with colors and shapes and swirls, almost like a breeze of triangles got stuck to the wall following behind Luu’s spray cans that evolved as she rolled past from simple three-sided shapes to more complicated geometries, nested triangles, and finally mystical geometry, the same three-sided shape present in all of that until the end where it devolves into a complex rainbow of colors that may have a meaning to be discerned later.
Jinny’s normally pristine skin is spattered with various colors of paint, her hands and arms a technicolor miasma of pigment that goes nearly to her elbows. Her gray sports bra had borne the brunt of the paint spatter, making it look like a Jackson Pollock painting. Possibly the next fashion she’ll start exploring. Were she to take the bra off, at a glance it’d appear she had a tan line that, on further inspection, would be made of the lack of paint. Letting out a sigh, she looks up as the music changes again to a more popular Disco song, skating to the kitchen to find more water, coming out as the music starts playing to track down Luu.
One, two
Ah, freak out!
Le freak, c'est chic
Freak out!
Ah, freak out!
Le freak, c'est chic
Freak out!
Ah, freak out!
Le freak, c'est chic
Freak out!
Ah, freak out!
Le freak, c'est chic
Freak out!
Have you heard about the new dance craze?
Listen to us, I'm sure you'll be amazed
Big fun to be had by everyone
It's up to you, it surely can be done
Young and old are doing it, I'm told
Just one try and you too will be sold
It's called 'Le Freak', they're doing it night and day
Allow us, we'll show you the way
As she skates, she searches for the manic pixie that is her homosexual life partner, wondering if there’s any way she can help lessen this burden.
When the Muse strikes, there’s no point in fighting it, no real way to resist. Attempting to do so is a sure fire recipe for a bad trip, and so Luu never hesitated in making the most of the experience, really getting into the mood and the groove. The bodily movements, the creative output covering the walls of her home, it’s truly been a joyful experience; and one she was glad to be sharing with Jinny.
At least, that was her mindset at the outset of this possession, but eventually one can have too much of a good thing. It’s not called ‘The Blessing of Terpsichore’ after all, and the manic energy of the past who knows how many hours now has her truly understanding the Curse.
Drinking water was a good idea, but Luu feels like she’s sweating it out faster than she can take it in. All of her muscles ache and burn, and yet there’s no way she can stop her frantic roller-skate dancing. The spray paints seemed like a good idea, and she is pleased with their collaborative mural, but the fumes add to the dizziness, the nausea, and the headache she is now acutely experiencing.
The Disco is also finally starting to get to her, but she knows that turning off the sound system won’t do anything. The beat would persist, still driving her movements. Detaching the beat from the sound system would just mean that it would live in her, taking over her thoughts into a repetitive four-on-the-floor hallucination that would threaten to annihilate any other concept of time, a Disco infinity that she might never escape from.
Even propelled forward as she is, her body is not capable of dancing any faster than half-time, and even that has become an unpleasant chore. Occasionally she’ll blink and when her eyes open, the song isn’t the one she remembered being on, her conscious mind dropping out occasionally, but her body not seeming to notice.
Looking to Jinny, Luu gives her a weak smile to reassure the other woman that she is ok.
Okay, at this point, is a relative term. Jinny had done a little research in a class on human physiology, ostensibly to find ways to make fashion a little more accessible to people by making it more easily usable. Sadly, nothing in the texts really ever helped to achieve that goal. Yay required credits, right? The thing she remembered from that class, along with how much she didn’t know about human physiology, is that people, even those suffused with Magick and in the peak of physical health (of which Luu almost certainly is from Jinny’s observation) have a limit to how much can be done. Oftentimes, the limiting factor to exercise is the finite amount of energy that is available to be used and, even with infinite energy available, there’s inevitably a point where the body starts to protest the continual motion and exertion, starting with aches and pains, sprains, strains, and if not dealt with properly, moving quickly to cramps and, in the worst of it, total collapse. These signs start out small, but over time the effort to maintain the level of activity requires more energy, and more energy, and when those reserves are depleted, the body literally starts to eat itself, breaking chemical bonds to provide the energy required. This is generally only in survival situations - starvation, famine, and the like, or a long trek or journey, of which this curse certainly is.
Were Jinny able to find a clock that a) worked and b) was set to the right time, she would see that she had been here for a little more than six hours. The night had slipped away and the sun was starting to rise over the mountains to the east, its brightness competing with and slowly washing out the throbbing disco lights muting them. The evening’s music had run the gamut, touching on all the hits of the Disco decade, even dipping into some eighties music once or twice before getting solidly yanked back into the Me Decade with a band called the Black Devil Disco Club. It’s a basic disco beat but the lyrics, when they can be made out, are distorted. Muffled. Barely understandable over the music. Almost like the artist is sending the listener a message through the song, and it’s up to the listener to bring meaning to the words being shared.
In Jinny and Luu’s altered state, those lyrics could mean anything. They could mean everything, or they could mean nothing at all.
When I look around
Some shadows in the sky
I forget what I’m doing with your lover
If you see my love you tell a moon
I can give you anything so soon
Jinny is starting to feel the results of skating for as long as she did. This would be the third mural she did this evening - the first has already been discussed. The second, on Flower Street, was a mural ten feet tall and fifty feet long. Words that simply said ‘You are a Goddess in the City of Angels’ in ornate, multicolored script followed by a pair of rainbow wings that allowed the viewer to step in for an instagram-worthy selfie, spreading the message of pride in one’s community using the power of the internet. And when Luu had called, she was on her way home, already tired, but you don’t just leave a friend hanging like that. It’s not friendly. Now, leaning against the wall of the ballroom, sitting on the floor of the ballroom, Jinny has one skate sideways on the floor, the other propped against it to keep her leg from rolling out into traffic. She’d found a pair of sunglasses somewhere in the kitchen and had put those on to lessen the light, stuffing a set of earplugs in to deaden the sound. The bass still gets through, but not as roughly. Jinny has moved into caretaker mode now and watches Luu as she skates more erratically, slowing, stumbling, slipping, the movements becoming more basic as the Hermetic’s body starts to protest more and more. She lifts a cigarette to her lips, drawing on the smoke, holding it, blowing it out to be illuminated in the laser lights while she watches Luu skate. When she’s finished, the butt is put into one of her mostly finished water bottles and she pushes herself to her feet. At least she can keep up easier now.
The evening has shredded her nerves, like someone took a blade to her and flensed out the fibers and exposed them to the air. The cigarette was from her social currency pocket; something to be given away for favors, or consideration, by the locals on the street. Honestly, it was simply an effort to calm herself down and, to its credit, it did help a little, although she’ll need to give her hair a good wash to get the smell out. It’s a nasty habit that she doesn’t want to gain. Sitting there quietly, even with her eyes closed, she can still see the lights and feel the beat. Oh god, it must be worse for Luu by a hundred times at the least. Such is the way of curses. She skates alongside Luu, feet heavy, resting her hand on the woman’s shoulder, the basketball jersey utterly soaked through. “I’m here.” She says, reassuringly in the space between beats. “I won’t let you fall. I’ll catch you.”
And they skate.
Somehow Luu is still moving, still skating, still dancing to the beat, but her movements have slowed past half-time down to quarter-time. Really, though, it’s not Luu, it’s simply Luu’s body. Her conscious mind has pretty much shutdown by this point; synapses firing in a disorganized and confused fashion. There are no physical strings, but by now Luu is little more than a ragdoll marionette to the whims of the Muses. All color drained from her save her rainbow colored hair, now a complete mess clinging wildly to her sweat drenched face; and while normally Luu would be happy to shed a few pounds, this is not an exercise routine she’d recommend to her worst enemy. It’s been hours now of skating, art, disco, and friendship, but it’s plain to see that it’s coming to end, at least for Luu.
Feel what I'm feeling
Get on down
Feel what I'm feeling
Oh, oh yeah
Feel what I'm feeling
I feel it baby
Feel what I'm feeling
I feel it baby, oh
All the sudden, Luu perks up, what might be mistaken for a second wind, but that came and went long ago; no it’s more as if those mystical strings are giving her one good yank as she brings it all home. Circling Jinny, Luu somehow begins to pick up speed, a goofy stoned and vacant look plastered across her face. To the pounding Disco beat, Luu begins a new dance, one commonly known as the dry heaves.
Then right on the one, it happens. Luu jerks back once and then let’s loose the last of her energy in a spectacular and surprisingly voluminous projectile vomit. Flying through the air across the makeshift Disco rink, the contents of Luu’s stomach catch the multi-colored lights. For a brief moment it’s as if a true Masterwork of art hangs in the air, an inspired bodily paint stroke.
As the vomit hits the ground, so does Luu, the Muses finally calling it even. The beats come to an end and the house lights turn on, and any glamour the night has is vanquished by the ugly and messy realities of the light of day and the end of Disco.
The wheels of the skates, they keep spinning, and over them the credits roll ...
Just close your eyes and then remember
The thoughts you've locked away
When tomorrow comes you'll wish
You had today
And as we sit here alone
Looking for a reason to go on
It's so clear that all we have now
Are our thoughts of yesterday
If you're still there when it's all over
I'm scared I'll have to say
That a part of you has gone
Since yesterday
And as we sit here alone
Looking for a reason to go on
It's so clear that all we have now
Are our thoughts of yesterday
Well, maybe this could be the ending
With nothing left of you
A hundred wishes couldn't say
I don't want to
It's so clear that all we have now
Are thoughts of yesterday
THE END
