Neville had fear, as he sat in the waiting room of ze evil ortho man. He had, like, so much fear. The gacky-toothed little boys across the room threw toys and frogs at each other, cruel expressions on their wonky-fanged faces. Neville hugged himself, hoping he would not be their next victim. PAAAAAAAIIIN!
When would the squished blonde woman call "Neeval Lunjbuttum?" When would the child beside him stop making her deformed Barney thing sing "I hate you, get eaten at the zoo, I will cut your family!"
He didn't know. He didn't know.
But then the old tv started playing a song. Started playing HIS song. Neville's song.
Neville stood, and started boogying and twisting, screaming "SO I PUT MY HANDS UP TO PLAY MA SONG, DA BUTTERFLIES FLY AWAY! NODDING MA HEAD LIKE YA, MOVING MA HIPS LIKE YA!"
All the children cried, and the receptionist had died. The little boys had dropped their frogs. It wasn't funny any more. Neville sat down, cheeks flaming, staring at his knees.
"VOT," roared a terrifying little man, "was THAT?!"
Those who lived bled in agreement.
"I-I just wanted to be Beyonce," Neville sobbed.
Suddenly Seamus stood up. "Right! I'll get ye all dolled up and then ye'll be Beyonce like me mam!" He smirked swaggily.