This particular story will have a bit of rhyme, but I haven’t done one of these in quite some time. This tale’s about machines and the funky undead, by the end of it, you’ll lose your head. So sit on down, crack a drink and sip, because we’re about to take a funky fresh trip...

The Transformers needed a break, it seems, and formed the Transfunky break dancing team. A fat machine when by Hiphopapotumus, while the other took title to Rhymenoceros With a kicking beat, and a bunch of phat tracks, the transfunky team laughed at rival attacks. But one fateful night, they were breaking in the park, and a group of skeletons seemed to jump out the dark:

“I’m Mr. Domino, we only got one head, but rest assured, you’re bout to be burned, cause we leave all breakers dead!” So the skellie with the head took a gallant step, these guys had moves and a dangerous rep. While the skellie just yelled “It’s time to die!” Hiphopapotumus didn’t even bat an eye.

So the two went at it as they dropped to the floor, this would be the night where they settled the score. Hiphopapotumus took first ‘cause his moves was hot, and he started with a favorite, the classic Robot. He moved like a funky C-3PO, and then the bone thug said, “Ah man, hell no!” So he took to the floor, like never before, “When you’re ready to leave I’ll show you the door.”

It was the Skellie’s turn now, legs fast as lightning, spinning like a top, yo that shit’s frightening. Popped off the head and gave it a twirl, and then shrieked like a little skellie girl. Spun it on his hand and passed it around, the next skellie wore it to take a crack at that funky sound.
This Skellie had a taste for the old school style, and decided to take things back for a while. He introduced himself as Dr. Funkenstein, its ok, he’s a doctor; he’ll dance just fine. He rolled onto the floor in a groovy set of skates, each with custom “FUNKENSTEIN” license plates. Started off soft in his polyester pants; then pumped up the jam with the Travolta Saturday Night Fever dance. Rhymenoceros yawned, he was a man of taste, and he was about to show his style and grace.

The dance machine took to the stand, performing his tricks for the skeleton band. Back flips and hand stands were flailing about, making the funkbot scream and shout. “Watch carefully, boys, here’s where it gets fast. With a bend and a twist, I’ll kick your bony ass!” With the sound blasting out of his transformed speaker shoulder, his moves seemed to smoke and smolder. He exited the floor, feeling content; then gave them the clear signal to “get bent.”

Funkenstein passed the head to the third and final dude, who walked out with a wicked attitude. “The Thriller” raised the roof then took the stage, with moves from yet another age. He began to moonwalk from left to right, giving a spin, and locking it up tight. A flick of his wrist, a tilt of his hat, this Skellie had the agility of a cat. Pelvic thrusts and scary sounds, he was a dancing pack of hell hounds. He cleaned up the floor, moonwalked to the back, now it was up to Transfunky to finish the attack.

Grabbing arms and morphing with all they got, Hiphopapapotumus ad rhymenoceros became one super funky megabot. The became the size of a bus, the hipopapotamurhymenoceros! The Running man, Hammertime, they did it all, without a misstep or a single fall. And just when the Skellies thought they couldn’t top it, they began to pop, lock, and drop it. The unmorphed back to their original selves, with another victory trophy for the victory shelf. The Skellies walked away, in shock and awe, for that was the coolest thing that they ever did saw.

Well that’s the story, you might be laughin’… But let me assure you, that shit just happened…

-DA

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...