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Fan Fiction: Saturday Night Fever

doreen sat night fever smallEven though I’m only a cashier by day, I’m a dancer by night. Weeknights, I dance in my room, in front of the mirror, until Ma yells, “Doreen, knock it off! The floor is vibratin’ like crazy!”

She hates disco. I love disco.

I tell her I gotta practice. “I gotta keep goin’, Ma,” I yell down the stairs.

“The hell you do,” she yells back.

Every night it’s like that. And every morning she gives me the stink eye while I’m eating my cereal before I go to work to stand on my feet for eight hours.

“You’re too loud,” she says. “I’m gonna have to kick you out if I can’t hear my programs.”

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Fan Fiction: Saturday Night Fever

BRING ME FLESH AND BRING ME WINE

saturday_night_fever_smallerMan, am I sick of this guy, or what?

Tony this, Tony that. Tony, you’re such a good dancer. You know what Connie actually said the other night? She said, “Tony, are you as good in bed as you are on the dance floor?” He was all smiles. I been tryin’ to hit that c*&^ for six months now and it all comes down to Tony being able to shake his ass, pump his fists, twirl that bitch around out on the dance floor?

It’s not easy being part of The Faces. Know what that means? We give good Face – we come to the club, not a hair out of place, nice shoes, top-of-the-line silk shirts and we class up the joint. Saturday night is the only night of the week when I feel like somebody. But I’m co-pilot and Tony is captain and it ain’t fair.

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