“Will the DJ stop the music and all the dancers will return to their seats?” said the Master of Ceremonies (MC), a big man. He made the announcement while standing in the small space between seven old men stationed behind the high table and the disco floor.
Although the burly man spoke at the top of his lungs, he couldn’t overcome the boom-boom sound of the ongoing music. The few dancers who heard the announcement paid no attention to it and instead continued dancing with their peers.
Less than two minutes after the first warning, the voice rose again and said in a more impatient tone: “Will the DJ stop the music and all the dancing feet will return to their chairs?” The fact that the dancers wouldn’t stop dancing and return to their seats made the man with the microphone doubt his authority. Well, he reasoned, who would blame them for staying on the dance floor when the music was still playing? It was the DJ, not the dancers, who had to suffer the insubordination of the people who did not return to their seats.
Suddenly it occurred to the burly man that there was a possibility that the DJ had a good reason for not listening to his orders, even though he had delivered them loud and clear. He wanted to believe it was true, but on second thought, he concluded that a good DJ should be attentive to the direction of the emcee at all times. According to standard protocol, a DJ who disobeyed an order from the MC has violated the basic rule of a party and should suffer the consequences.
Despite the DJ covering his ears with headphones, he heard the order to stop the music, but he was going to do it his way. No DJ worth his pay would abruptly stop dancers in the middle of their moves. Also, the DJ hated the way the MC tried to push him in front of the audience. If they had been on the field, where no one was looking, it would have hit the MC on the top of the head. However, for the sake of peace, he had started to reduce the music, starting the first time the MC gave the order.
“Not fast enough,” the man at the microphone cursed, and again he signaled with his nose for the DJ to stop the music immediately. By this time, half of the dancers had left the dance floor, but the rest wanted to wait until the music was completely over. His intention caused an unnecessary delay, further enraging the man at the microphone, who made a sharp movement with his hand on his neck, a sign that the DJ should stop the music immediately.
People could feel a discord between the MC and the DJ, but only half of the audience, most of the busybodies, guessed all the details of the problems between the two. Many of the people who weren’t dancing didn’t care if the DJ continued to the music or not. Some of the onlookers encouraged that the DJ had the upper hand in his dealings with the burly man with the microphone.
All the dancers left the disco floor and sat down when the music finally stopped. Instead, pacing the floor was the man with the microphone. Once the audience got a glimpse of his full figure, they judged him by what they saw. Most of his weight started from his belly button and spread to his waist. He was missing a hair of six feet. A red woolen hat with a rabbit tail covered half of his head.
Three times he cleared his throat. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Ferdinand, but I won’t mind if you call me Fred.” Then he noticed her big belly and gave her a secret hint of friendship. “I stood before you,” he continued, “as I wanted every word I say tonight and this time to stand tall like a bamboo tree.”
“Why bother to clear your voice when you end up speaking hoarse anyway?” a man in the back corner of the ballroom near the kitchen whispered to another man, who was wearing a green hat slung over his right shoulder. The man at the microphone looked in the direction of the commentator and his neighbor as if listening to the comment made against him, but it was just a coincidence and continued.
“Let’s start by giving the president of the occasion a round of applause.” As he said that, he looked at the solemn faces of seven elders behind the high table, half of them on either side of the president, who, judging by his gray eyebrows, was the eldest of the companions.
Pointing to the men at the head table, one after another, the master of ceremonies said, “My achievement, these men’s achievement, was the result of mastery of wisdom, proverbs, and wit, all combined to a certain degree. of courage and brutality. Success, my friends, is born of a marriage between brains and fuss. “
He took a quick second to clap, but none came, so he changed gears. Turning to the seated audience, he said, “When I married my wife, I brought five cows with me and was willing to pay more in dowry if my father-in-law wanted me to do it, but he didn’t. After we were married, and according to plan, my wife, Oriakum (the one who consumes the performance of everything I work) “- here he pointed in the direction of a woman with a high-haired scarf -” she gave birth to three children, a son every year. Then, Oriakum He followed it with two twin daughters, one by the name of — “.
As the man at the microphone spoke, a short man from the audience stood up and approached him, table after table. Some in the audience who noticed it wondered what he was going to do. Maybe he wanted to speak after the man at the microphone. “This party could end up as a speech party, where everyone lines up to talk about how successful and wealthy they have become,” said the neighbor of the man who made a mocking comment about the MC’s husky voice.
Since he started speaking, the MC hadn’t had any applause from the audience, and that upset the man at the microphone more than the humiliation he suffered from the DJ’s hand. He expected the audience to applaud every time he made comments, but they didn’t. This audience has failed to give him his deserved recognition, and he would not stop speaking until they did. To resume dancing, they must first clap their hands. Some hearings are bad, and the one that night was an example of such an audience. With more time the applause will come, he told himself, and began to expand on everything he had said before, without realizing that a man was approaching him, not to hug him but to confront him.
If the short man had made his intention clearer, the man with the microphone would have turned away from him, because although he was huge, he did not seem like a man who wanted trouble, at least not in the eyes of the audience. On the other hand, the shorter man was a belligerent person by nature; But that night his belligerence was not necessarily because being short pushed him to project his personality, but because he too had something important to say and did not like how the big guy had dominated the microphone. Also, he hated the way the emcee interrupted the music and sent the dancers to their seats, without a sustainable challenge from the DJ, who thought he had the absolute right to how the music ended, especially when the audience was in the room. dance floor. .
When the man with the microphone realized that the shorter man intended to take the microphone from him, he said to the invader: “Are we fighting over a piece of land? Say?” The man with the microphone was much taller and bigger than the man who wanted to take his place, and since most of his weight was concentrated around his belly, he could easily have crushed the other man by landing on him on the disco platform. just as a child can crush an ant with his foot on the sandy ground.
What an ambush, he told himself. An ambush that could disable the brave. Several options occurred to him. Whatever action you choose to deal with the situation, it should be short and successful. He had a fight to win and an image to protect. A prolonged fight did not fit the picture he had painted for the audience with his speech. It would have been better for him to have had the fight first and given the speech later. However, people do not always choose the way in which problems find them. The shorter man who approached him was looking for trouble, he concluded. Just because the music had stopped. As the designated master of ceremonies, he had the right to interrupt the music and give speeches for as long as he wanted.
Part of the blame was with the public. If they had applauded profusely, he would have finished the speech and given the signal for the dancers to return. There were people he knew would applaud if they really listened to his message. Where were they? Where is the mute and silent majority in any group? Until they hear you and show your applause, you must continue to make your point.
Vulnerability occurs when a man is thinking deeply and that is what happened to the big man. Suddenly, the short man jumped to his feet and grabbed onto the microphone, forcing the burly man’s upper body to bend at the waist, like a tree branch laden with hundreds of fruits. In severe pain, the fat man considered throwing the short man, along with the microphone, onto the dance floor.
But, realizing that the short man would end up with the microphone device, he abandoned the plan. Instead, after recovering from his hunched-over position, using the mic as a lever, he lifted the short guy into the air, topping the tallest chandeliers in the ballroom, almost to the ceiling. He planned to walk between the tables, return the little man to his seat, and didn’t mind dropping him freely in the chair.
While in the air, it occurred to the little one that speed was the only advantage he possessed over his larger foe, and he decided how to use that. Dropping the mic, with precise control he landed on his feet.
Because he had had time to think about his actions, he soon began to strike with both fists on the bulging belly of the man with the microphone. Soft, like a pillow, he smiled as he punished his greatest enemy. Initially, the burly man did not want to drop the device, which for him was the possible cause of the disagreement; but later, receiving further punishment from the imp, he threw the microphone over the heads of the men on the high table, and it hit the back wall and fell to the floor.
Surprisingly, the little man did not run towards the device. If talking was what his attacker wanted to do, why didn’t he go behind the microphone, the MC asked? As he pondered how to respond to the assault, he searched for the short man, who, to his chagrin, had crawled between his legs, only to torment him. From behind, he felt the tug of his belt, but mustered enough discipline to ignore it. Since the short man knew that, unlike him, the burly man had an image to protect and cherish, he had no problem tormenting his opponent.
“Remember this,” the short man said to the burly MC as he crawled under the folded shirt to pinch his waist. Concerned about his public persona, the MC kept holding on. Aside from the seven elders behind the high table and the DJ, no one paid detailed attention to the fight. To further obscure the view of the fight, the DJ found a knob on the wall next to his feet to dim the light from the ballroom. He also restarted the music and turned up the volume. Now it was playing “Let the music play” by Shannon.
“Good choice of music,” said the chair to the man on his right. Suspecting the reason for the interruption of the speech and the resumption of the music, no one came out to dance and no one spoke. The time passed midnight. People began to leave the ballroom. Soon after, the party ended.