Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun or any affiliated names or characters. No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: If this sucks, I apologize. Please review; it's the only way I'll get better!
The whole thing had started with a radio broadcast.
One characteristically slow and dusty afternoon, a bored DJ had somehow stumbled across an old recording of an even older dance from Earth, labeled with the odd sounding name of 'Polka'. The bouncy, exuberant music with the exotic name must have energized the people of Gunsmoke, because the polka craze soon spread to all the major cities of the desert planet. Six months later, it showed no sign of stopping.
Midvalley the Hornfreak ruminated on all this as he sat at the bar, hunched over his gin and tonic and trying hard to ignore the peppy music oom-pah-pah-ing from the jukebox. His band hadn't been able to get a gig for months, and soon he could be reduced to playing his precious Sylvia on the streets. He shuddered at the thought. It wasn't like he could make his employer understand that the reason he couldn't exterminate crowds of humans lately was because nobody wanted to listen to him play. The only time the blue-haired psychic would ever worry was if Gunsmoke ran out of cheesecake, he thought as he caught Legato's image in the mirror over the bar. The jazz man sighed.
For the first time in his life, Midvalley wished he played the accordion.