\\Square Dancin';

Authors Notes: This is what happens when you play 4 square without squares, and only 2 people, with a yoga ball, in an apartment. Talk of elementary school and P.E. pop up, and things just get carried away.

Oh, yeah, and you’re probably wondering about the J. Or if you’re not now, you will be by the time you get to the bottom of the page. Janitor One kept typing random J’s. It’s not some weird signature…though it sort of works out. And you can probably start some weird conspiracy theory that Mr. J. wrote this himself, signing it cryptically. But you’d be wrong.

And we like Todd. Really.

A lot.

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The Sweet Valley Elementary School gym teachers herded their young pupils into the gym, unbeknownst to the children today’s lesson was going to be the first of a horrific gambit of dancing torture.

“All right children,” Mr. J. said in an unaffected tone. “Come along.”

Muttering amongst themselves, still unaware of the danger, the throng moved slowly towards the tall teacher.

“Today, we’re going to be doing something fun, children.” Despite his best effort, however, Mr. J. did not manage to convey fun with his voice.

“I like fun!” said Todd.

“Shut up, Wilkins.”

“I like Mother May I,” Jessica proclaimed to her classmates. “I should be the mother.”

Lila replied hottily, “You only like doing that because you like bossing people around. We should play Simon Says. I should be Simon!”

Realizing the direction this was going as the rest of the students began to murmur, Mr. J. interrupted blandly, “What we’re going to do is a lot more fun than those things. We’re going to be square dancing.”

“I like square dancing,” said Todd.

“Shut up, Wilkins.”

As though he hadn‘t heard, Mr. J. turned to the short, scary looking P.E. assistant. “Mrs. McCreedy, start the music.”

“I WANT TO TEACH YOU! TEACH YOU! I’LL TEACH YOU THE ELECTRIC SLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!!”

Realizing all the children were merely standing in confusion, Mr. J. shouted over the impromptu music, “Turn the music off, Mrs. McCreedy. Everyone, find partners.”

“Why are we square dancing to the Electric Slide?”

Elizabeth turned a meaningful glimpse on Todd who was busy picking his nose.

While her twin was busy engaged in a futile battle of wills, Jessica sauntered towards the object of her affection. “Oh, Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuce!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“What do you want, Wakefield?” Bruce sneered.

“We’re supposed to be dancing in partners,” Jessica said sweetly, batting her eyes.

“I’m not dancing with a girl!”

“Ewwwww.”

“You have to have a partner. And it might as well be me!”

“No way, I’m with--” Bruce paused, searching the gymnasium for a vacant student. Everyone else was paired up except for Elizabeth and Todd, and even that was questionable. The other Barbie Doll? Or…Todd….

“Wilkins, get over here!” Bruce ordered imperially.

“Ow!” Todd squealed, startled at the call of his name. Taking his finger out of his nose he wandered towards Bruce. “Yeah?”

“We’re going to dance together.”

“I like square dancing,” Todd said earnestly.

“Go wash your hands.”

Todd toddered off and left Bruce alone with Elizabeth and Jessica.

“So…..” Elizabeth started slowly. “If Todd’s dancing with you… and you’re dancing with Todd… who am I gonna dance with?”

“Does everyone have their partners?” Mr. J.’s voice called out. “Where did Wilkins go?”

“Mr. J.! Mr. J.!” Jessica said, annoyingly. “I don’t have a partner.”

Lila and Cara who were standing next to each other, giggled and pointed at Jessica.

“I don’t have a partner, either,” Elizabeth announced.

“Then be each others! Patman, go find Wilkins.”

Shoving his hand in the pockets of his jeans, Bruce shrugged and meandered out of the gym.

“All right, Mrs. McCreedy, now start the music.”

“I WANT TO TEACH YOU! TEACH YOU! I’LL TEACH YOU TH ELEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECTRIC SLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

As the students began to copy Mr. J. and Mrs. McCreedy’s odd dance, the door opened, and Todd burst into the gym! With no partner to be found, Todd broke into an energetic dance all alone on the other side of the gym.

“Take if off!”

“Shut up, French!”

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Authors Postscript: By the way, if you're worried about Bruce, he's in the courtyard listening to his iPod, playing air guitar, working on his tan.

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