All That Death and No Potatos (Part IV)
Tonight, DJ Mike Marcotte!
As our loyal readers know, we last heard that Nina and Naomi were in an underground bunker in the Swedish mountains with a guy named Jarl. Their final correspondence is below.
Intro to Balboa (Week 5 of 5)!
Learn why the California swing dance has such a passionate cult following in the already cult-sized swing dance scene. Taught by international Balboa instructors Bobby un der partner Kate.
Pillars of Looking Fancy Starts Next Week!
We at the Jam Cellar concentrate a lot on how the dance feels, so that everyone who learns at Jam Cellar will forever be mentioned by attractive members of the opposite sex as "feel-good dancers." Now it's time to check ourselves out a little bit, and talk about looking good. This series will focus on the dimensions of a great-looking dance, and moves that best illustrate those dimensions. Sign up at the Jam Cellar tonight, or just show up for the first class!
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Do you love watching incredible dance choreography, but the thought of spending three minutes in front of hundreds of people in the middle of a contest makes you curl into the fetal position? Then this is the perfect event for you! It's the one-minute showcase, inspired by a similar event at the great Lindy Hop camp called the Inspiration Weekend (see how inspiring it is?).Basically, you sign up, you come up with one minute of choreography (partnered dance or solo jazz) to a song of your choice, and you perform it along with others Aug. 12. You even get in free to that dance. Sign up downstairs, and members of the Jam Cellar crew will be on hand throughout the month to help you with anything you need.
Email From Nina Gilkenson
DAY 11 (Continued) After Naomi and I had eaten some fresh apples, and gotten the taste of SPLISH from our mouths, we were much more up to confronting dangerous world-threatening situations.
“So what do you know?” we asked Jarl.
“I know that this corporation is making machines that look like people. They have blonde hair, blue eyes, and are very fashionable, so we can not tell them apart from other Swedes. As far as I can make out, there are twelve models. I have dsicovred what eleven of them look like, but cannot find the last. Anyway, they are producing them somewhere up here, an army of them. They come with skis, and live in the woods, and terrorize people. They say the same thing over and over “Attack, terrorize, and terminate.” They have GPS, so they always know where they are, they are made of poly-volimer flexi-plastics, so they never break, and they are fed from a national wireless energy source, so they never die.”
“Sounds like an iPhone,” I said.
“A what?” he asked.
“An iPhone. By Apple.” Naomi said. “They sound like iPeople.”
“Apple.” He whispered to himself. “Of course. It all makes sense! The computer system here is finicky and limited, but user-friendly. I had to subscribe to iTunes in order to turn on the air conditioning. And the iPeople, they are so light.”
“And, that would explain why my phone keeps charged,” I said.
“What phone?” he asked.
I pulled it out and showed him, and he screamed and batted it out of my hand.
“They will know we are coming.” He said, running to the other room and packing things into a bag. “We must go.”
DAY 12
It was shortly after midnight when we left the hatch, and ran into the darkness of the forest. I swear I could hear the sounds of skiers passing in the night, moving in teh direction of the hatch.
We had decided to keep my iphone, since it was hacked out and not connected to AT&T, and since, even though it's the spawn of the devil, it's so damn useful.
Hours later, in the tenet Jarl had erected, we huddled for warmth in the thick coats Jarl had given us. (He also had showed us a room full of old Victorian gowns and accessories that were hidden in the bunker for some reason. Jarl thought maybe we could cut them up and make useful clothes out of them, and Naomi and I refused to speak to him for awhile while we figured out which hats matched our parasols.)
Anyway, Naomi and Jarl started talking about leather books, and I knew she wanted to spend some time talking to him alone, a best friend just knows these things, so I kicked them out of the tent.
Outside, the moon was bright, and I could see the delicate shadow of two people sitting next to each other stretch across the wall of the tent. They were sitting close enough that depending how you looked at it, they were the shadow of one creature. It looked romantic at first, then I thought it looked a little like a camel.
DAY 13
We walked all day yesterday, and today, for the first time, we noticed the snow thinning out. At mid day, we saw, a mile before us, where the snow gave way to green fields and beautiful lakes. Unfortunately, it was then that we heard the hiss of skis. Turning around, we saw what had to be thirty attractive, blonde-haired skiers coming straight for us.
We ran as fast as we could for the green clearing, hoping that the time it took for them to get off their skis would give us enough time for escape. But, here's the thing. Have you ever tried to outrun a Swedish skier in three-inch silver heels in the snow?
We were almost to the edge of the snow when Jarl suddenly slipped, and Naomi and I had to help him up. By then, though, it was too late. We were surrounded.
SUSPENSEFUL PAUSE
All of them except for one were in poofy white ski jackets. The other was a thinner one, a man with softer features than the others, and he looked oddly. . . glossy.
“Attack, terrorize, and terminate,” he said, in a rather pleasant British woman's voice.
The skiers came towards us, pulling out various weapons slung across their backs, and Naomi and I took out what weapons Jarl had given us. And to be fair, we looked pretty hot, what with the sumptuous hair and automatic weapons and what not.
All of a sudden, though, there was a blaze of gunfire from the forrest around us, and skiers started going down left and right. Though we were confused, Jarl, Naomski and I started taking down our fair share as well. After a few moments, there was only one left standing–the softer, gentler robot that had given the order to kill us. He started walking towards us and we all started shooting at him, but bullets didn't effect him.
“Good God,” Jarl said. “He's second generation!”
“What does that mean?” Naomi asked.
“Half the price, but he eats twice as much. That's where they get you. Also he has a bulletproof plastic coating.”
“Wait a minute!” I said, and I pulled out my iphone and dialed a number. “Falty! What's the quickest way to freeze a macintosh product? No, I don't care what you're wearing right now. What's the quickest way to freeze a Mac?”
After a moment I hung up the phone, ran up to the robot, and said.
“Hey, you want to play a game?”
“Sure,” the robot said, then its eyes glossed over and it stood there for awhile.
“Done,” I said to the others. At that moment, figures merged from the forests at the edge of the clearing we were standing in. They were all different sizes, shapes, nationalities, and yet all had the unmistakable air of Lindy Hoppers.
“Greetings!” a voice said, and it was Frida! “Fancing meeting you here!”
“What happened? How did you find us? Why did you have all these guns?”
“Well, today was automatic rifle hunting day at Herrang, so we were just going on a little hunting trip. When we saw it was you, and those robots were about to kill you, we decided to help you out. I sent many volunteers to find you a few weeks ago, but they are useless. They are probably making out in the blues room. ”
“Can it be? It's Frida Segerdahl!” Jarl said, walking forward. “Our leader! The unstoppable force, the voice of our revolution!”
“What?” Naomi and I said. But there was no time to answer, because Jarl suddenly said “I must talk to you, Frida! I must! I must” and Frida suddenly pulled up her rifle and shot him.
“No!” Naomi cried, flinging off her hat and dashing to him. Jarl didn't bleed, he merely fizzled a bit and fell over.
“Frida, you shot Jarl!” I said, and though it doesn't sound like it was mean, if you were there and the one who shot him, you'd have felt very embarassed.
“He's a robot.” She said.
“What?”
“Yes, he's one of them. My organization has known about him for months. They were hoping to use him to get to me.”
Naomi lifted her petticoats and crouched next to him, her brunette tresses winding in the wind. “Jarl,” she whispered, a lone tear falling upon her bodice.
“So, let me get this straight,” Nina said. “You not only run Herrang and teach internationally almost every weekend, but you also head up a revolution that fights iKillers and is trying to take down the Apple corporation?”
“What can I say?” she said. “I have all this energy, I have to do something with it.”
DAY 17
Well, Bobby, we are safe and sound, finishing up our classes at Herrang, and we'll be home soon. Naomi is doing a lot better, and we've refused to change out of our dresses, which is hilarious, because already three or four girls hoping to beat Naomi in a contest have started trying to find out where they can buy a Victorian gown.
We'll see you soon.
Neeners.
Sent from Nina's iPhone.
I hope you have enjoyed Herrang Death Camp IV. Let it be known I have nothing but great love and respect for Nina, Naomi, Frida, Falty, Herrang Swing Dance camp, and the Swedish people in general. I particularly have a secret crush on Marie Nahnfeldt, who is a married woman, and I'd appreciate it if no one told her. Any liberties taken with the personalities of living people was simply for comical purposes and not meant to be harsh or demeaning. If anyone was offended by the serial adventure in anyway, I'd be happy to hear about it. Please call me at 1-800-275-2273.