"Ah," Sesshomaru says, "Good. You're back for the continuation of our sordid saga." He is standing by a chart hanging on the wall of his study. It shows pictures of foot prints with broken lines covering the whole lot. It shows a dance move. "It's just a pirouette to the left," he says, pointing to the far left side of the chart. "Then a spastic lunge to the right." He moves his hand to the second image. "With your elbows to your toes," the third picture now, "You throw your head up high." He steps away from the chart and picks one of the many books littering his desk. "But," he says emphatically, sitting down in his chair, opening the book. "But it is the pelvic thrust that makes you insane."
He reads the book.
Reads the book.
The book.
Book.
He slaps it shut. "Miroku and Sango," he says, "had just entered the dark forest. They had come to a dead end road. The tires on the car had all gone flat. They were stranded. Miroku, the valiant husband, told his dear wife that he would brave the darkness to go back to the gas station they had passed along the way. But Sango stopped him. She told him of the mansion that was closer. Surely it would have a telephone. Miroku agreed to this, and off they went." He leans forwards in his chair, his book closed in his hand. "It was a decision they would regret for the rest of their lives." He laughs evilly.
Miroku and Sango were awed by the shear magnitude of the mansion. It stretched into the sky, grasping for the stars. The front lawn seemed to go for miles in all directions. Stone statues littered the field, dark wet moss covering them. They made their way to the front door, and he knocked on it three times. It was always three times.
They waited. The wind wisped past them. An owl hooted. A bat tweeted. An elk mooed.
"I guess there's nobody home," Sango said in dismay.
Miroku sighed. "Yeah." He stared at the door, then decided to set off for the gas station. As soon as they turned away, the door opened.
Standing at the door was Bankotsu. He was a young man with an evil twinkle in his eyes. He studied the newly-wed couple standing at the doorway. "May I help you?" he asked in a condescending manner.
"Oh," Miroku said, startled. "Yes. Our car broke down farther down the road-"
Sango cut him off. "It didn't break down. We got flat tires."
"Oh," her husband said with an embarrassed and irritated smile. "Right you are, my dear. Anyways, I was wondering if you had a phone we could use."
Bankotsu stared into Miroku's eyes. Then into Sango's. He stepped aside and motioned for the two to come into the mansion. The hallway was gigantic. A black-and-white checkered floor, old paintings hanging on the walls, knights and other statues lining the walls, waiting for the order from their king to attack. "You are very fortunate," Bankotsu said as he led them through the halls. "The Master is having a special party tonight."
"Oh?" Sango said. "Is it his birthday?"
Bankotsu chuckled lightly. "No. It is the unveiling of his science project."
"Oh?" Miroku said. "Is he a scientist?"
Bankotsu chuckled lightly. "Something like that."
Suddenly, a shriek blasted its way through the hallway. One of the knights, nothing but steel armor, rose from its pedestal and swung its mighty battleaxe at the three people in the hallway. Miroku leapt in front of his dear wife, shoving her off her feet, down to the ground. The knight brought its axe up over its head with the intent to strike Miroku clear on his head. But it stopped, dead in its tracks. Laughter seeped through the steel armor. It dropped the axe and removed the helmet. Underneath was Kikyo. "Gocha!" she screamed, pointing her gloved hand at Miroku.
Miroku laughed weakly, then fainted.
"Really, dear Kikyo," Bankotsu said, shaking his finger at her, "You should not scare our guests like that."
"Psh," she scoffed. She removed the armor and threw it in a pile to the side of them. "Nobody has any sense of humour anymore." She looked down at Miroku, who was in Sango's arms. She was shaking him, slapping him, yelling at him to wake up. He came to. "I am really sorry about that," Kikyo said with an insincere smile. "Come. The Master is waiting." The four of them continued down the hall.
There was a large doorway at the end of the hallway. They stood before it for what seemed like seconds, but was actually minutes. They opened by themselves.
"Now," Sesshomaru says as he pours the warm tea from his kettle into his mug, "I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, 'what could possibly go wrong with this situation,' am I right?" He sits down in his chair, puts the mug on the table next to it. There is a plate with a scone. He takes the scone and breaks it in half, then begins to eat it. It is soft and moist, freshly baked just a few minutes ago. Jaken, his toad servant, had whipped it up especially for him. He had gone to the grocery store that morning to get some things for tonight's supper. But, as that has nothing to do with the story, let us move back to Sesshomaru.
"Bankotsu and Kikyo," he continues, "were servants to a mysterious master. Not many people new of him, or what his works involved." He sips his tea. "But, our heroes were about to find out."
Jaken is standing at the door. "Uh," he says, "You're talking to yourself again."
"Behold," Sesshomaru says, leaping to his feet. "Behold, the master's party!"
The room was immense. The ceiling stretched far up. The black-and-white checkered floor matted the ground. Dozens of people, dressed in silly costumes with funky masks and feathery hats and the like, were dancing on the floor. Electronic dance music filled the room, its rhythmic beats controlled the dancers. A song.
Bankotsu: It's aggravating, time is wasting.
Madams, take a poll.
But heed my warnings.
Kikyo: The beats grow much stronger.
And we've lost all control.
They shoved Miroku and Sango onto the dance floor. They looked around cautiously. The beats were beating.
Bankotsu: I remember doing the Thyme Wart.
Drinking those moments when
Blackness would spit at me.
Bankotsu and Kikyo: And the boys would be falling.
All: Let's do the Thyme Wart, yeah!
Let's do the Thyme Wart, yeah!
A girl standing at the far end of the room ran forward. She was wearing a tight, sparkling outfit with a really tall top hat. She was Kagome, the master's third and final servant. This is what she sang as she did her killer tap-dancing solo:
Kagome: Well I was walking on the pier, just a-having ice-cream,
When a whale of a dude gave me a toothless grin.
He shook me up, he took me by surprise.
He had a small tugboat and a mime's eyes.
He stared at me and I felt a change.
Time meant everything, always would again.
By this time, Miroku and Sango had both found themselves completely consumed by the beats and rhythms and singing. They were shaking it and moving it and even grooving it, though they didn't know what "it" was, exactly.
Sesshomaru, in his study: It's just a pirouette to the left,
All: Then a spastic lunge to the right.
Sesshomaru, in his study: With your elbows to your toes,
All: You throw your head up high.
But it's the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane,
Let's do the Thyme Wart, yeah!
Let's do the Thyme Wart, yeah!
All the dancers clutched their hearts, placed the backs of their hands onto their foreheads, gagged, shook, seizured spastically, fell to the ground and all moaned in pain for several minutes. Miroku and Sango could only look in horror. But they were only pretending. It was all a show.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Kikyo called out. They all stood up and looked her way. She and Bankotsu were standing in front of elevator doors. It was coming down.
"The Master," Bankotsu said with a grin of malice, "has arrived."
The doors opened. By themselves!
"So," Sesshomaru says. "Miroku and Sango were now face-to-face with the scientist himself. But, my friends, I am afraid you will have to wait until the next chapter to see what happens next!" He is holding a tape-recorder. He pushes the button and the sound of an audience moaning with disappointment plays.