Disclaimer: lyrics from "John I'm Only Dancing" belong to David Bowie. All Ed, Edd 'n' Eddy characters still belong to Danny Antonucci.

Chapter Four

Eddy met Edd outside his house. He had chosen to dress quite formally, wearing a white shirt with a few buttons undone, with a black jacket and tie, black pants and a pair of white boots with four-inch heels, and, of course, his favourite leopard-print undies. Edd was dressed more casually, in a black t-shirt with an undone red shirt over the top, black jeans and a pair of brown boots with small Cuban heels. They waited for Ed in the street, and he came out with extreme caution, painfully afraid of triggering the sleepwalker alarms again. Ed had come out in a mish-mash of styles, including a smart black shirt, tight blue jeans tucked into big black bovver boots and his old green grunge jacket.

"Looking good boys," said Eddy, slightly suspect about Ed's dubious fashion sense. "Now let's get going before anyone sees us."

They crossed quietly to the lane. It was eight minutes to eleven and, as planned, they were the first there. They didn't have to wait long before the first of the kids, if you could still call him that, joined them at the lane.

"Good evening Ed-boys," greeted Rolf, drawing stares from the three Eds. Underneath an undone yellow shirt, Rolf's muscular and unusually hairy chest was completely visible. He combined it with tight jeans ending in wide flares with a slit down each side, and cowboy boots, and his hair was messed up.

"Hi Rolf!" cried Ed, oblivious to his friends' shock.

"Good evening Rolf," said Edd, unable to remove his gaze from the disgusting yet mesmerising sight of Rolf's chest.

Eddy was speechless for a moment, before he came back to his senses, flashed a wide grin and called "Heya Rolfy-boy, that is one hell of a torso you got there!"

"Thank you well-dressed Ed-boy," smiled Rolf. "Rolf compliments you on your mastery of the new American style. Tell me- has Rolf done well?"

"Very well Rolf," answered Eddy.

At that moment they heard giggling from around the corner. Nazz and Kevin came from behind the fence, he looking suave in a grey turtleneck, black pants and baseball boots, and she looking beautiful in white pants, a white halter-neck studded with silver and white mules.

"Hi guys," giggled Nazz.

"Yo," said Kevin.

"Hey," said Eddy. "Hey Nazz, what's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," replied Nazz, still giggling. "It's just, I've never been out, you know, somewhere in pants before."

A few minutes later, Jonny Twobyfour turned up, dressed as ever in his usual white t-shirt, baggy blue jeans and cork-soled sandals, carrying his best friend Plank.

"Nice to see you made the effort, Jonny," sneered Kevin.

"Well, if we're all here, I guess we should be going," suggested Nazz.

"Wait a minute," said Eddy.

The sound of voices carried across the fences. Soon after, May and Marie popped into view.

"Aaargh! Kankers! Run Eddy run!" screamed Ed, having to be restrained by Eddy.

"Relax, bozo, I invited them," he said, struggling to keep Ed in one place.

"You invited them!?" accused Kevin, pointing to where May had just taken a nervous step back and Marie had put an arm round her to stop her from fleeing.

"Yeah, I invited them," challenged Eddy.

"You never told us they were coming," Kevin seethed.

"Do I have to tell you everything, darling?" replied Eddy, being as facetious as he could, which was very very facetious.

"I don't wanna go anywhere they are!" thundered Kevin.

Eddy just shrugged. "No one said you have to come."

Seeing that he was in a losing battle, Kevin resigned himself to an evening with the Kankers.


Up in his bedroom, Jimmy was having something of a sleepless night. Wondering if Sarah felt the same, he gazed out of the window at her house, where she lay in her double bed in the pretty pink bedroom he spent so much time in.

His eyes caught a movement on the street. People were down there, moving. Walking. Going somewhere. Where were they going? Who were they?

One was short. Eddy? And two very tall ones. Maybe they were Ed and Rolf. Something was going on. Why were all the older kids going out together in the middle of the night?

Did Sarah know Ed was gone? She must not, otherwise she'd have told and someone would be going after him.

When would they come back? Vowing to find out, he leant on the window and watched.


"This is the place," whispered Eddy, as the chic exterior of Christine's appeared in the street ahead. Finding a rusted metal gate, he led everyone to the back of the club, where a shaft of yellow light marked the open door.

Eddy approached it. There was a young man standing there, slender with greased back hair, a tight white tank top, dark jeans and a leather jacket several sizes too big.

"Eddy Bewley?" asked the man.

"Yeah that's me," answered Eddy.

The man opened the door wider so they could all come in. "Don't sit too close to the front; we don't want Christine to see she's got minors in."

They filed through to the main room, and found a largish table not too close to the stage, but close enough to see well.

When nothing happened for a while, Kevin suggested they get drinks.

"They'll see we're underage," argued Edd.

"Send Rolf and Marie, they look the eldest," suggested Jonny.

Marie looked over at Rolf, and he shrugged. The two got up. They did indeed look mature. Marie had tried a grunge look, and wore dark cut-off jeans, a wide belt and a black strapless corset, and her dark blue hair was adorned with a jet black streak, while Rolf's hairy bare chest was clearly that of a grown man.

May, by contrast, had tried to make herself look older with a glam rock style, wearing a tight top and hotpants, with huge knee-high boots, all in glittering silver, and plenty of shimmering makeup, but it served only to emphasise the fact that she was a rather figureless thirteen-year-old.

Rolf and Marie returned after a few minutes with a variety of alcoholic drinks, and they, Kevin and Ed helped themselves to beers, Edd and Nazz poured glasses of red wine, while the youngest three; Jonny, Eddy and May, began on the hard spirits.

A familiar melody began from the stage, the sound of a Bowie number from a few years before. They looked over, and saw not Bowie but Arnie on the stage with his back to them, leaning on a chair.

"Well Annie's pretty neat yeah,

Always eats her meat yeah,

And Joe is awful strong,

Bet your life he's puttin' us on."

He delivered the lines in profile, leering provocatively at the audience with his right eye. The he spun sharply to face them, putting his hand over his forehead in a melodramatic gesture.

"Oh lordy, oh lordy,

You know I need some lovin'.

Oh move me! Touch me!"

With one leg upon the chair, he danced sexually, gyrating his hips and stroking his chest and thighs.

"John, I'm only dancing.

She turns me on, but I'm only dancing,

She turns me on, but don't get me wrong,

I'm only dancing."

As the music abruptly changed, his dance snapped into a surly figure of defiance with a challenging, sarcastic smile.

"The shadow of love was quick and clean,

Life's a well-thumbed machine.

I saw you watching from the stairs,

You're everyone that ever cared."

He was the epitome of discontent, the personification of misunderstood youth, in all its rebellious glory, and a shared moment of unity between the charismatic singer and his disillusioned audience.

"Oh lordy, oh lordy,

You know I need some lovin'.

Oh move me! Touch me!"

And then in a snap his movements turned awkward and nervous, a shy parody of casual dance moves.

"John, I'm only dancing.

She turns me on, but I'm only dancing,

She turns me on, but don't get me wrong,

I'm only dancing."

His face too was nervous, with a shaky smile a suppressed flirtation as he made careful yet cheeky eye contact with his imaginary John, dancing around imaginary people and tailoring his moves expertly around the attentions of the audience.

"John, I'm only dancing.

She turns me on, but I'm only dancing,

She turns me on, but don't get me wrong,

I'm only dancing."

As he crossed his arms over his torso, bending his knees and lowering himself into a pathetic, desperate position, which faintly reminded Eddy of the way he had tried to hide his genitalia in the ditch, bringing up an uncomfortable wave of regret and sick fear, he stared out at the audience with his wide brown eyes, wretchedly begging each one.

"Dancing…

Won't someone dance with me?"

He reached out to them, seemingly keeping his pleading eyes on all of them, his body bent and yearning.

"Touch me!"

He was crying rather than singing, and he snapped his arms back around himself.

"Aawww!"

He finished off, dancing and gyrating shakily, like he was exhausted with need, still keeping each person in the room amazed, thrilled by the air of sexuality, perfectly in time with the steely guitar and clanging drums. Then, as it faded, he sank to his knees on the floor clutching the chair in despair need.

Someone near the bar began clapping. The rest of the club joined in, and the kids were caught up in the euphoric applause.

"Thank you," said Arnie, standing up, all traces of the character he had become while singing gone away in an instant. "And now, here's something a lot less rehearsed…"


Arnie sang a few more songs, some new, some old, all combined with flawlessly choreographed dramatic dances. Some were sad, some were fast and exciting, and some were slightly confusing, but all of them were sexy. Arnie manipulated his body like he wasn't in it, and the club seemed to love it.

Once his set was over, there was a high-pitched ballad singer and a local stand-up comedian, neither of which quite matched Arnie's skill. The audience lost interest after a while, though few left before closing.

As the comedian finished his routine, the man from the back door snuck up to their table.

"Last orders are in ten minutes," he said. "You should get out before then so Christine doesn't see you when she starts kicking people out."

They nodded, and he went back into the back room. Kevin, Nazz, Jonny, May, Marie and the Eds finished up their drinks, but Rolf, keeping his eye on the back door, got up and followed him hurriedly, mumbling that he would be back.

"Rolf sure is weird," commented Nazz.


Rolf found the man waiting for someone in the back.

"Y'alright?" he asked.

"You are a member of the club of Arnie Bewley, yes?" Rolf asked.

The man simply raised an eyebrow.

"Rolf would like to join your club."

The man looked him up and down. "And how old is Rolf?"

"Sixteen," he answered.

The man smiled. "If you can take it, you're in." He winked. "My name's Eric."

"You…"

Rolf couldn't say any more, for various reasons.


"We should get out before anyone sees us," said Kevin.

"What about Rolf?" asked Nazz.

"He went that way; we'll meet him on the way out."

Nazz felt a little bad about not waiting, but as the others all got up and made for the door to the back, she had no choice but to follow.

As the others disappeared round a corner, a cry of "Whoa!" sent her running after them. There, the sight of Rolf with his face wrapped around that of the man who let them in aroused a rush of surprise, and another, hotter tickle, and she was by no means the only one who felt it.