Conversations with the Grand Fiend: Joys of the Dance

Contributor: Miles Gough

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"Why are you not doing mating rituals?" the Grand Fiend asked one evening. "You are just cloistered away with such a doddering old monster such as myself. Shouldn't you try to find a mate, a companion, or at least some late-night hook-up?"

I told him that I only meet with him once a week, and I enjoyed our time together and our talks. I also mentioned that dating was never a comfortable thing for me. That was one of the reasons I enjoyed the research I was conducting. Talking with blood thirsty monsters once a week was more satisfying and safe then a blind date excursion to a TGIFridays.

"But what about dancing?" he asked. "How can you live without dancing? A little Inuit woman told me once that if you do not dance you rust. What fine advice. I was greatly affected by her wisdom and made sure to eat her slowly and with relish; one should not gobble down such treasures, but savor them."

"Dancing scares me more than anything," I said. "I feel like I have several poorly assembled left feet."

"Nonsense. I have seen a 12 foot long bi-forcated centipede beast do a soft shoe to Putting on the Ritz quite handily. Why should you feel impeded if it did not? Perhaps monsters are the only ones who can truly appreciate the joy of dancing. The opportunity of a spotlight that you do not need to shy away from.

"Werewolves are quite beautiful when dancing, though quite ostentatious. They like to go for a large ballet routine. I saw one start dancing in human form and take a huge leap into the air just as the moon emerged and landed gracefully as a wolf. I would like to see Barishnikov try to do something so elegant.

"And you would weep to watch zombies do the salsa. Zombies are wonderful in appropriating latin rhythms into their shambling walk. Actually, all the shambling creatures are keen to do a cha-cha.

"The finest dance I ever saw was done by a ghoul who found itself in a kitchenalia store on a summer's evening. The place was packed with purchasers of gourmet cookwear. The sound system played a salsa CD and the ghoul was compelled to dance cha-cha. One, two, cha-cha-cha. The ghoul was loving the music, the movement and the attention. The whole store stopped and witnessed his graceful display of the moment. He took one young lady and swung her around and partnered with her for a few steps. People were cheering and clapping along and the ghoul kept on dancing. When the song was over the place shook with applause. The ghoul took a low respectful bow.

"Of course, there were no survivors."

After saying this, the Grand Fiend was silent for some time. He then announced the evening over and sent me out to go dancing. I went home instead. While walking down the street, I found my step lighter, supple and daring.

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