Dancer #7 or 8 or thereabouts
Wednesday, 17-May-2000 12:00:29
    195.44.213.228 writes:

    The scene: A swanky garden party promoting the Buy Paradiopolis Veal campaign, featuring the lovely contestants for Miss Veal 2000. Dancer is present in her secret identity of Sarah Shepherdson, working the catering with Mr Papadopopolis.

    Sarah: I feel sorry for those poor dumb animals.

    Mr Papadopopolis: They are put down fairly humanely, Sarah. Besides, there is nothing we can do. And the Bean and Donut Coffee Bar needs the money from catering this bash.

    Sarah: Not those dumb animals. (Points to the girls on stage tucking their tummies in and pointing their toes) Those dumb animals.

    Guy in cowboy boots and stetson at garden party: Hey, waitress-babe, what are you doin’ tonight, chickadee?

    Sarah: I am wondering what you are compensating for with that huge hat, big boots, and h---- belt buckle. Why?

    [Just then, armed terrorists in scuba outfits rise up from the swimming pool and take over the garden party]

    Terrorist 1: Nobody move, or the Miss Veals get it!

    Miss Veal Candidate 1: Oooh!

    Miss Veal Candidate 2: Eeek!

    Miss Veal Candidate 3: What do you want?

    Miss Veal Candidate 4: I want to travel the world and meet people…

    Miss Veal Candidate 3: Not you. The men with big guns.

    Mr Papadopopolis: Terrorists! I’d better get some more canapés out of the van!

    Terrorist 2: We are the Vegetarian Vigilantes, and we will not release our hostages until all our demands are met.

    Sarah (thinks): Oh no! How can I save the garden party as the probability-altering superhero Dancer and still get all the finger food laid out in time for the presentation?

    Sarah: Excuse me, Mr P, but I think I left the napkins in the van.

    Terrorist 3: Hold it, waitress! Where do you think you are going?

    [At this point, the swimsuit top straps of Miss Veal Candidates 1 to 4 all improbably fail at the same time, distracting the terrorists so Sarah can duck under the buffet table]

    Miss Veal Candidate 1: Oooh!

    Miss Veal Candidate 2: Eeek!

    Miss Veal Candidate 3: Why does this always happen?

    Terrorist 1: Cover that obscene meat! Avert your eyes, brothers, lest the temptation to bite overcomes you!

    Dancer: Eeew! You terrorists are gross! Now surrender, before I have to stop you.

    Terrorist 2: You can’t stop us, you meat loving carnivore! [Fires at Dancer, who dances out of the way so the bullets ricochet off the gazebo, setting in motion a series of improbable events which ends in disaster for the gunman]

    Terrorist 1: Ernie! Speak to me!

    Terrorist 3: How tragic! Martyred by a freak salami accident!

    Dancer: There are more freak salami accidents where that came from if you don’t give up now.

    Terrorist 1: No! We will not surrender until every man, woman, and child in Paradiopolis vows never to eat meat ever again! [Hurls hand grenade at Dancer, only to find it has unfortunately caught on the thread on his sleeve and is now hanging from his wrist] Aaaagh! [Jumps into swimming pool to douse hand grenade before it goes off.]

    Miss Veal Candidate 1, working to some basic bimbo model reflex: Cool! Everybody in! [Jumps in the pool after him. Other Miss Veal Candidates follow like sheep. Grenade goes off with water-muffled whump.]

    Miss Veal Candidate 1: Eeek! My costume has been blown off!

    [Many gallant party-goers dive into pool to assist Miss Veal Candidate 1]

    Terrorist 3: Stop! I still have a machine gun you know!

    Dancer: Nobody is listening to you.

    Miss Veal Candidate 2: Help! My swimming costume is not meant to get wet, and is dissolving!

    [More sounds of diving men]

    Dancer: Let me knock you unconscious, Vegetarian Vigilante. It is the kindest thing.

    Terrorist 3: Not into the paté. Noooooooo!

    Mr Papadopopolis: Well fancy that! That remarkable young superheroine has saved the day, and livened up the garden party immensely as well.

    Sarah (emerging from under table): I didn’t see any of it, Mr P. I was looking for more doilies.

    Mr P: * sigh * If only you could be a little bit more like Dancer, young Sarah.

    [Sarah gives knowing wink to audience]


    Dancer


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Dancer #7 or 8 or thereabouts (Dancer) (17-May-2000 12:00:29)