♫ (should i be scared?)
MASTERLIST OF MEMES: ♫ A drabble about our muses inspired by the next song that comes on shuffle
((I just want to say that I was listening to my “Bailamos” playlist, which keeps me awake because they’re all typically upbeat songs, and I’m sorry that you had to send me this as this song came on lol… actually, no. I take it back. This was fun to write! Hope it made sense though..))
“Pony”
Don looked at Eugene through narrowed eyes, muttering curses under his breath. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”
He heard the announcer testing the sound system to make sure the audience could hear him clearly. “Welcome to amateur night, folks! Have those dollar bills ready because our night will be nothing short of exciting. Let’s get our first dancer out here…”
Both men waited to hear what name would be called out. Don sighed, relieved he wouldn’t be the first one. Doc turned to him and scoffed, rolling his eyes as he told him it was his fault too, and called him out about making bets and that he should probably stop gambling. It was his turn to scoff. “Please! It’s not like I have a problem, alright? I just didn’t think my losing would bring me…here!” He waved his hands wildly then crossed his arms, looking like a kid who’d been told he couldn’t get the new toy gun for Christmas.
Don drowned out the announcer and glared at his friend. “You’re coming out there with me, Gene. I hope you know that.” A man around their age walked by holding a tray of shot glasses. Don stopped him by tapping him on the shoulder softly. He handed him a $10 bill, and just when he was about to tell him it was too much, Don interjected. “Get my pal here one, and you can keep the rest of the change.” He offered the waiter a smile and took the shot glasses, handing one to Gene before grabbing the third one.
“Nothing like a little liquid courage, huh?” He raised his glass, clinking it against Gene’s and threw back the liquor, slightly wincing at the semi-sweet flavor. Not exactly what he was expecting. The light copper color led him to believe it was some sort of whiskey, or maybe even a rum. Don took the second shot, and the fuzzy feeling in his stomach started to dissipate.
He still felt uncomfortable going through with the whole thing, but at least he had gained a minor sense of confidence. His name was called out and he froze, looking at Doc desperately. The man simply smirked and gave him a hard pat on the back before he was dragged onto the stage.
As he was pulled away, he heard was Gene shouting “Don’t throw your helmet at the crowd!” Well wasn’t he the comedian tonight? The guy hardly talked or participated in Don’s shenanigans, but tonight he sure had a lot to say.
The song started abruptly, startling him as he stood on the stage awkwardly. He looked around, all eyes were on him. The only thing he managed to do was start moving side to side. There were a couple cheers and whistles. Should he feel motivated? Maybe confident at the fact that even though he wasn’t doing much, people were cheering him on? After all, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity he supposed. He removed the helmet and tossed it the side.
Well, it’s now or never. Screw it.
He moved his shoulder to the beat of the song, then his hips before taking a few steps forward as he pointed to the some women sitting in the front, mouthing “Gotta be compatible, take me to my limits.” He unbuttoned his shirt, then shrugged it off, one sleeve at a time. When it was completely off, he twirled it over his head before throwing it to the crowd. He ran his hands down his chest to the bottom of his undershirt, as he gave a thrust and pulled the tank up a little to tease the crowd. He pulled it over his head, placing it over his crotch as he began to grind on it.
After throwing that piece to the floor, he realized he was completely shirtless in front of the crowd. Since it was too late to go back or even cover up, he did the first thing that came to mind: show off his arms and flex his muscles. He turned around and popped his ass a few times before getting low on the floor. As he got on his knees, he spun around and crawled, grinding once he neared the edge of the stage. Don jumped to his feet and pointed at a random audience member, motioning to her with his finger before running his hands down his body once more while talking a few steps back.
From the corner of his eye he saw Gene sneak onto the stage, pulling a chair behind him and leaving it at the center of the stage before running back. He ran a finger on the chair as he walked around it, then grabbed it and turned it around so the back was facing the crowd before he took a seat. He stretched his legs out on either side of him and raised an arm, moving it in circles as if he had a lasso in his hand. He looked to the side and winked at Gene, who seemed to be in fits of laughter.
Or was in tears due to second-hand embarrassment.
Whatever it was, it didn’t stop Don from using his imaginary lasso on Gene as a way to urge to come on stage with him as he rose from the chair and faced him. He patted his lap and mouthed “My saddle’s waitin’.”
Don faced the audience once more and began to undo his belt. He finished his “routine” right as he had taken off his pants and had placed them between his legs. The audience cheered and whistled as he took a small bow before running off the stage, trousers and shirt in hand. He met back up with Gene, who greeted him by throwing money in his face, showering him with dollar bills.
