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!”
“No, they most certainly do not,” I said, laughed, and pirouetted with her into humanity’s new and beautiful future.
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