[Part II of Dance Dance Story. Read Part I!]

Oh yes, gentlemen. See here. The secret is that I’ve got flared raver pants on underneath the rolled-up jeans that are two-sizes too big. I can’t help but walk with a serious rhythm now. No DDR machine can resist my grooves. Hell, you can’t even tell what buttons I’m standing on.

If I were to jump from the second level of the mall, I would float down to the first.

But now, let’s get down to it, my brothers from Team ManyMojo. What I plan to do is head over to the Arcade on the East Side of the mall with you guys and wreck it with the quickness. I have a two part plan for busting that arcade wide open and leaving Team ShakaBooty dance-dancing in our DUST:

1. We will raise da roof
2. We will set it on fire.

We won’t need any water; we’re going to let it burn. But before we rumble the footpads, let’s stop by the Food Court to hydrate. Otherwise we’ll end up like that shriveled up dude who’s still outside the software store waiting for TeamFortress 2.

AHHhhHHHhh, yes boys, God’s gift to ravers is none other than the rich iciness of Orange Julius-- GOOD SWEET MOTHER man, hold your tongues! Look over there, next to the Piercing Pagoda! What lady is that, ordering a chocolate chip cookie the size of my head? OH! She does teach the neon signs outside Spencer’s Gifts to burn bright!

I have to talk to her. Look, but don’t all look at once. Okay, I’m going to make my move. Wait here. Er, hey guys? Do these pants make my butt look big? ...Can you even tell what direction I’m facing?

[To be continued...]