Chapter 4
"Alright Bob, how are you planning on getting past the laser fields?" Tamble asked.
"My name's Larry." The grease-dripping man corrected.
"Alright Bob, how are you planning on getting past the laser fields?" Tamble repeated.
"Well I saw in this movie, Ocean's Twelve, this guy called the dayrabbit used yoga dance moves to get through lasers. I don't know yoga, but I do the disco!"
"Disco, eh? That sounds just sexy enough to work!" Tamble cheered.
"Crazy seventies fad." Jeff said, but mostly to himself.
O-O-O-O-O-
The greasy man did the disco better than Johnny Travolta. Looking at him without knowing, you never could have guessed the skills he had. The pointing finger, the wheelbarrow, the Monkey. Dance moves that could crack a light floor. He was almost through, but out of nowhere, a grease droplet from his hair went right through a laser, sounding a silent alarm. The three thought they were done for. The lasers all focused on Larry, scanning him head to toe. All of the sudden, the lasers moved away from him and lit up a man who must have responded to the alarm. He was wearing a glittery shirt, bellbottoms, and had a giant afro.
"Damn, Tamble," Jeff nervously said, "How is he going to outdance this guy?" Tamble didn't respond. Instead, he thought. The alarm didn't call the police, it called a challenge. The challenge was a party-style dance off. If he lost, they were all dead.
"Ready Bob?" The disco-man asked.
"LARRY is always ready." The disco man went first, sliding on the floor like in Risky Business, and then backflipping twice. He topped it off with a classic point and shove, perfectly executed. This was going to be tough, Larry knew, this guy was a dance freak.
"No one beats Larry!" Shaking his head while walking backwards, Larry pulled off a perfect grave-digger and then a gravity smash. It went on like this for what seemed like hours, with the moves getting harder, and the dance getting funkier. But there was one difference. Larry was getting worn out, but the disco-man didn't even seem phased. Larry had to quit this fast, pull off his best move, or collapse and lose. He did a triple flip, inches from the disco man, a scratch–and–repeat, followed by a Jesus eating pizza. In one last burst of energy, Larry tried the backstabbing grandpa. He nailed it. There was no way the other guy could beat this. Unless, "Oh no," he thought. The Dragon's Uncle's Rocking Chair. That's exactly what the disco man was about to do. But halfway through, he disco-man fell down with a thud. He wasn't moving. Larry approached him cautiously. He looked different up close, almost inhuman. He reached down, and turned him over. There were gears in the man's chest showing.
"A robot!" Larry shouted, "That's why he wasn't even tired. But any disco freak knows, only a real human can pull off a Dragon's Uncle's Rocking Chair! I win!" Cheering, the three ran in towards the door of the meeting room. Tamble could taste victory. Or could he?