They Don’t Call it a Pfralashemgrat for Nothing (Drabble #2)

The moment I heard it was at the park, I raced my car to the scene.

Sure enough it was in the parking lot, tentacles clanging cymbals, mirror-ball head spinning, disco beats blaring from its stereo mouth.

A woman pulled me close. We danced with reckless abandon.

I finally understood real joy. I finally understand what true love means.

The woman smiled at me ecstatically and shouted over the cheers of the crowd, “They don’t call it Pfralashemgrat for nothing!”
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“No, they most certainly do not,” I said, laughed, and pirouetted with her into humanity’s new and beautiful future.