Death Match Dance Off
Dr. Terror, or as his friends knew him, Bob, stood on the outskirts of the party crowd surveying the lay of the land. He was summoned to tonight’s soirée by his foe, Captain Champion. The invitation promised a death match, but from the look of things, it was to be the dreaded dance off.
"Superheroes don't dance," he muttered under his breath, clenching and unclenching his fists as he watched the couples sway on the dance floor.
He had been practicing his dance moves whenever he was able to get a day off from his cover job at Weiner King. Yet, he still felt inadequate and out of place as he watched the scantily clad bodies gyrate to the music through his aqua tinted glasses. He swore to himself to have the dance off removed from the death match listings. He’d rather wrestle a pig in a wet suit than do the Hustle in front of a crowd of scornful youth.
Bob wound his way through the moving bodies, scanning the room for Captain Champion’s trademark red hair. He spotted her by the punch bowl, adopting the role of shy wall flower. Her act didn’t fool him, he could see through her homely veneer to witness the super hero contained within. Captain Champion spotted him at roughly the same time he made her, their eyes meeting across the dance floor. She raised an eyebrow and he shot her a wink, before sliding up next to her.
“I see you dressed in full geek regalia tonight,” she taunted, her voice a sexy purr.
Bob patted his pocket, “Don’t diss the protector woman. Just be glad I left the Plutonium at home this time.”
She rolled her eyes and edged closer to Dr. Terror. “Are you ready to do this?”
“Are you? The fate of the free world depends on your ability to two-step to a disco beat.”
“Bring it on Weiner boy.”
Dr. Terror held out his hand. Captain Champion put hers in his and let him lead her to the dance floor.
“Let the games begin!” she cried as the music changed to a slow dance. Dr. Terror leaned in close, pressing up against Captain Champion as they moved back and forth to the beat. After several minutes she jerked away her eyes filled with disgust.
“Sorry.” Bob blushed, extracting a pen from his pants pocket. “Vibrating pen. It was a gift from my mother.” They resumed their dance, parrying underneath the disco lights using the guise of couple in love.
The song ended and the dance was over. The sworn enemies pulled apart somewhat reluctantly. It was a tie.
"They should remove the dance off from the death match list," Bob said. The smell of Captain Champion's shampoo was intoxicating and Bob fought to stay focused. "I mean superheroes don't dance," he mumbled. The Captain pulled away, a twinkle in her eye.
"Real superheroes do." And with that she was gone. Bob was left standing in the middle of the dance floor alone, but alive to fight another day.
"Superheroes don't dance," he muttered under his breath, clenching and unclenching his fists as he watched the couples sway on the dance floor.
He had been practicing his dance moves whenever he was able to get a day off from his cover job at Weiner King. Yet, he still felt inadequate and out of place as he watched the scantily clad bodies gyrate to the music through his aqua tinted glasses. He swore to himself to have the dance off removed from the death match listings. He’d rather wrestle a pig in a wet suit than do the Hustle in front of a crowd of scornful youth.
Bob wound his way through the moving bodies, scanning the room for Captain Champion’s trademark red hair. He spotted her by the punch bowl, adopting the role of shy wall flower. Her act didn’t fool him, he could see through her homely veneer to witness the super hero contained within. Captain Champion spotted him at roughly the same time he made her, their eyes meeting across the dance floor. She raised an eyebrow and he shot her a wink, before sliding up next to her.
“I see you dressed in full geek regalia tonight,” she taunted, her voice a sexy purr.
Bob patted his pocket, “Don’t diss the protector woman. Just be glad I left the Plutonium at home this time.”
She rolled her eyes and edged closer to Dr. Terror. “Are you ready to do this?”
“Are you? The fate of the free world depends on your ability to two-step to a disco beat.”
“Bring it on Weiner boy.”
Dr. Terror held out his hand. Captain Champion put hers in his and let him lead her to the dance floor.
“Let the games begin!” she cried as the music changed to a slow dance. Dr. Terror leaned in close, pressing up against Captain Champion as they moved back and forth to the beat. After several minutes she jerked away her eyes filled with disgust.
“Sorry.” Bob blushed, extracting a pen from his pants pocket. “Vibrating pen. It was a gift from my mother.” They resumed their dance, parrying underneath the disco lights using the guise of couple in love.
The song ended and the dance was over. The sworn enemies pulled apart somewhat reluctantly. It was a tie.
"They should remove the dance off from the death match list," Bob said. The smell of Captain Champion's shampoo was intoxicating and Bob fought to stay focused. "I mean superheroes don't dance," he mumbled. The Captain pulled away, a twinkle in her eye.
"Real superheroes do." And with that she was gone. Bob was left standing in the middle of the dance floor alone, but alive to fight another day.