SD241711.19 - Duty Log - Sails - "Play that funky music, white boy."

Posted on Sun Nov 19th, 2017 @ 6:41pm by Sails-at-Dawn Mr

1,298 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Test Mission
Location: USS Versailles
Timeline: Current

=^= Function Room 12G =^=

The bride was on the dance floor in her wedding dress, slowly gyrating to sinfully dark music, and the groom's friends ground their teeth with frustrated jealousy. This was supposed to be the traditional dance between husband and wife, but it seemed that the groom's young bride was very fond of the club scene, and had requested a song that allowed her to show off her close-fitting wedding dress to best effect. And it seemed to be working, as the groom himself had to stand back, a stupidly silly smile on his face as he anticipated the two-week honeymoon. As for the rest of the room; the mother of the groom had to grab her husband's jaw to keep his attention on her, several of the uncles were staring unashamedly, and Sails' eyes were avoiding the dance floor altogether.

The handyman was wearing a suit again, and stood on a DJ booth that was one part scaffolding, one part technology, and one part guesswork. He had never DJ'd a party before in his life, and had simply replicated the biggest set of speakers he could carry. Connecting them to a musical database had been a relatively simple affair, and the scaffolding had been set up to allow a large variety of lights at different heights. Right now there were only a few lights turned on, but the set-up was primed to go into full disco mode at a moment's notice. Spinning lights, flashing lights, laser lights, and a couple of large smoke machines were ready for action. As soon as the groom was done salivating over the body of his supple new wife, Sails would throw down some tunes and, hopefully, everyone's libidos would cool enough for them to dance. Right now he was pretty sure he could boil a kettle on the heads of the men in the room.

At least, all the men on the groom's side. Oddly enough, the bride's side was conspicuously empty. Oh sure, the father was there, along with a few of the bride's friends, but that was it. The groom had over ninety people at last count, and the number was steadily growing as people arrived. The room was filling out nicely, so there weren't any conspicuously empty sections anymore, but the numbers game was definitely weighted in the groom's favour. By the way the groom was goggling, and the way the bride was dancing, Sails guessed, by the bored look on the bride's father's face, that the bride's family was tired of attending functions like this. There was a word for girls like the bride, or for girls that were like what the bride *appeared* to be, and it wasn't a nice word.

Eventually the song ended, the bride went back to her husband for a long, lingering kiss, and the men in the audience swore bloody vengeance.

To break the unhealthy amount of tension that was growing in the room (between the thoroughly aroused men and the fuming women), Sails poked through the music selection on the touch-screen in front of him, and chose something light and fast-paced. The disco lights started to spin, the speakers were cranked up a few notches, and Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" echoed throughout the room. Though he was new to the whole "DJ" thing, it was an unwritten rule that a DJ at a wedding must not play any tune from the past hundred years. Personally Sails would have preferred some Post-Spindub-HalfCore-Punkfeister-Remixed stuff (popular with teenagers that wanted to annoy their parents), or possibly something by Caitian Tail ("I Wanna Shed Some Fur (On Your Bedsheets)" was a hit on several worlds). The latter's lyrics could be somewhat...graphic, but the tunes were catchy as all hell.

Still, it seemed the antiquated tune had some pull left, as the younger kids quickly rushed onto the dance floor and started throwing down 'moves'. Most were ten years old or less, and felt no shame at repeatedly falling over whilst attempting to spin on their backs and heads. Eventually, if only to prevent injury, the adults joined them in ones and twos, bobbing along to the beat. The bride and groom danced together as best they could, with the bride used to solo 'exhibitionist' dancing, and her new husband struggling to retain any semblance of dignity whilst concealing the tent pole in his trouser leg. Once the tension had been fully broken, the wallflowers relaxed enough to point and joke about the groom's dancing. All in all, it was shaping up to be a fun evening. Even the bride's father got up and danced a little, making a good accounting of himself before sitting down again, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Across the room, the traditional buffet was being picked over. Quiche, and chicken legs were old favourites, and as such they dominated the table. Alongside them were cheese and pineapple on sticks, jumja sticks, Jumbo Vulcan Molluscs, and steamed katterpods. The latter was poked at by some of the wallflowers, and judging from their expressions the taste must have been quite vile. Some swallowed with a grimace, but others spat it out into a handy napkin, and as a result there was a small pile of used napkins accumulating next to the plate. Clearly the Bajoran people had many things in common with the humans at this party, but 'taste' wasn't one of them. Though a Bolian seemed to be snacking on them with every sign of enjoyment, so the dish wasn't a total loss.

As the evening went on, people seemed to filter on and off the dance floor in an ever-flowing pattern of dance-eat-rest-dance. Those with greater stamina would dance for up to an hour without needing a break, while the pudgier guests got up and sat down more times each hour than they probably did during an entire week. Of course that was just stereotyping. Sails would be the first to suggest that maybe some of them just had a glandular problem that made them *look* like they were really fat. It was unlikely though, given the rate they were chewing through the buffet. Whenever the catering manager would uncover a new dish, they would converge on it like flies on a sugary picnic. The efficiency with which they devoured everything in their path made the Borg look like slackers.

Eventually, even the fittest dancers were sitting down. True, many of the fittest *male* dancers had one of the bride's friends sitting on their laps and sucking their teeth, but they were off of the dance floor, which meant that Sails' role was coming to an end. The only people left on the dance floor were a few children who didn't want to slow down in case it meant bed-time, and the bride and groom, leaning on each other both emotionally and physically after the stress of the big day. As the DJ started searching for another slow tune for the happy couple to dance to (the bride had finally gotten the hang of wedding-dancing with her husband), the groom's father signalled to him to wrap things up, and Sails nodded in response.

"One last tune folks." he said over the microphone, softly so as not to disturb the good-feeling vibe. By request, the last song was something called "I Wanna Grow Old With You" from an old movie called the Wedding Singer. Though Sails had never heard of Adam Sandler, the lyrics in the song were enough to make him want to reach across time and strangle the man.

Nevertheless, the happy couple seemed to enjoy the tune, looking soulfully into each others eyes as the gentle melody washed over them, bringing a perfect end to the best day of their lives.

=^= End of Log =^=

Sails-at-Dawn
Civilian
Versailles

 

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