Eleven: Slow Dance With You

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CHAPTER ELEVEN:
𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴅᴏɴᴇ. ❞

✧・゚: - *✧・゚* :・゚- *:・゚✧

"Shall we?" 

Greeting us on the entrance was a tall and muscular, bald man with a dark complexion who wore a bright blue turtleneck with tiny rainbows repetitively scattered everywhere. They had the cartoonish clouds on each end as well. Did I mention he also had shades on? In the evening?

With a deep voice that pierced through the room, "Halt," and raised a palm at us as he pulled out a clipboard. A clipboard, I tell you. "Name?"

Seriously? Another bouncer slash security guard slash annoying person standing at the entranceway? 

"Elsa Ellednera and Merida Van Gogh." Porcelain spoke for us. Our names sounded so good together.

"Like the artist?" Even Rainbow Turtleneck Guy knew about Vincent. What kind of rock was I living under all my life?

"Aye."

"Sexual preference?" He knocked my socks off.

"WHAT?!"This was Vanellope and Ralph all over again!

With that, he took his sunglasses off and pulled out a stamp and slapped it hard on our wrists as fits of chuckles were exchanged between him and Elsa. 

Guess what the design was. What else could it be?

"How very, Bubbles." Elsa playfully rolled her eyes at the man. The fact that that Rainbow Turtleneck Guy was named freaking Bubbles didn't bother me more than my thought that 'Oh, so they know each other' bothered me.

I knew my Elsa-knows-everyone-and-everyone-knows-Elsa theory wasn't too far-fetched.

"Ye two know each other?" 

"Uh-huh. He's my boss."

"You. Call. Your. Own. Boss. By. His. First. Name?"

She only laughed.

Without even noticing, the used-to-be-shop already began to fill. The presence of all these people in a confined space made the hairspray scents levels in the air increase by a thousand.  It's giving me war (A.K.A. high school prom) flashbacks.

I had to give it to the decorators, though. The room looked like they fed a gigantic room-decoration-spitting monster every existing thing that screams gayness and homosexuality and it puked up this room.

On the small stage at the corner was a band called Louis and the Alligators. They all fittingly wore matching light green tuxedos. Their saxophones and trumpets intimidated me way more than it should.

Suddenly, a guy with straight long hair, golden bodangles hanging from his ears, and a crazy amount of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet (honestly, indigo can go home) on his entire outfit appeared in front of the mic on the stage for everyone to see. 

My eyes hurt looking at him.

If his dress that boasted the entire color spectrum wasn't insane enough, he also wore a sparkling sequin-covered long robe that trailed across the floor behind him as if it were a cape. His shoes put Ugly Gladiator Shoes' to shame with his Gods-know-how-long-inched wedges that could squash me if he tried. But I didn't even mention the worst part yet: his hair was dyed in...!

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