Dancing to Louie Louie - A Halloween Tale

The woman looked up and said, "Name?"

She answered, "Sta-ie-che," but when the woman looked very confused, she repeated it as "Stacey."

"Last name?" the woman said, not looking up from the form in front of her.

"We don't have what you call last names on Turillia," Stacey answered.

Jake was barely controlling his laughter as he stood behind her. "I told her that if she stayed in character, I would pay her entry fee," he said. "Just put down Turillia as her last name."

"Address?"

"I don't know what you want?" Stacey answered.

"Write in the station's address," Jake said from behind her. "We can sort out the official stuff later if she actually wins."

A few minutes later, she was standing near the side of the stage with Jake. "If you don't mind," he said, "I'm going to save you for last. You got any questions?"

Stacey looked at the other contestants gathered with her and said, "I didn't realize that you have pleasure dancers on your planet."

"What do you mean?" Jake asked.

"That girl there," she said, pointing to a tall blond in a naughty nurse costume, "she is displaying her body as though seeking someone to dance with in a horizontal dance. Only a pleasure dancer would be allowed to do that on Turillia.

"And that woman who is covered in some sort of dye or paint. Except for some small pieces of tape over her nipples and some sort of cloth that barely covers her sexual opening, she is naked. Is that not the sign of a pleasure dancer?"

Jake laughed again. "I have to admit, your makeup is much better than hers. It almost looks like your hair and skin are really green." He lifted one of the folds of the black curtain which concealed most of Sta-ie-che's body. "Hopefully it's as good under this witch's robe as what I can see on your face and hands because you are going to have to lose this in order to dance for the contest."

"Pleasure dancers always dance naked," she replied, "unless the clothing is worn to be removed as part of the dance routine."

"You are precious," Jake answered. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you dance, but right now I have to do my emcee bit and get this party going."

He then leaned in a little closer to her and said softly, "A word of advice. If you are really interested in winning this contest, just hang around here at the stage. Let the other girls get drunk on their asses. It doesn't improve their dancing, even if it does really loosen them up."

Sta-ie-che was not sure what "drunk on their asses"or "loosen them up" meant. Neither was a phrase in the language programs, but from the tone of Jake's voice, it was apparent that it would be better for her to follow his advice. Besides, she wasn't sure how long she could keep up her masquerade in the crowd before she was discovered. So, for the next hour or so, she stood near the side of the stage watching the party.

It appeared to her that the primary aim of most of those at the party was to consume as much intoxicating drink as possible and to go off into the darkness to have sex with as many different partners as possible.

'Not a whole lot different than what young people back home do on some of our own festivals,' she thought to herself, 'but I had best remain fully sober tonight.'

The deejay, who was also alongside the stage, was playing a lot of music which she had never heard before. Every so often, though, he would play what he called "an oldie." Sta-ie-che was surprised that she knew almost all of the oldies, but none of what was evidently new music. 'I thought I listened to everything that could be picked up, even what was relayed from the outer sensors,' she said silently to herself, '... but there seems to be a gap of many years.'

Then she looked more closely at the vehicles and equipment at the party. The vehicles she was familiar with from the videos were the rusted hulks stacked around the edges of the junkyard. Obviously they were years old and had worn out. The clothing of those few who were not in costumes was also very different from what was expected.

"Light-years," she suddenly said aloud. Then continuing silently she told herself 'They forgot about the time it takes for the primitive electronic signals of this planet to get to Turillian receivers. The contact crew was prepared for earth life as it was years ago.'

She gasped and almost shouted, "That means that any message sent to the fleet with this planet's technology would take years to get there. My only chance is to send a message that will get to General Wi-cho as he approaches the planet, but before he attacks."

She knew from her father's dinnertime conversations that the fleet would be monitoring the transmissions from the planet as they approached. That, however, could be millions of messages and transmissions. Whatever message Sta-ie-che sent had to be something that would stand out amidst the electronic clutter of the planet.

The deejay, standing next to her, startled at her outburst, said, "Man! You are really in character. What are you supposed to be?"

Sta-ie-che replied, "I am a pleasure dancer from the planet Turillia. Our contact ship crashed and I am the only survivor. If I don't get a message to General Wi-cho before the fleet arrives, they will destroy this planet. We were hit by meteorites, but our emergency beacon thought we were shot down and sent a message saying that we were attacked."

The young man started laughing. "So what do pleasure dancers dance to?" he asked, pointing down at his control board.

"Let me watch some of the other dancers," she replied. "I have to think. It has to be just the right tune. The existence of this planet depends upon me winning this contest."

"Whatever you say," he said with another laugh and then turned on his mic to introduce the next song.

Finally the dance competition itself began. Sta-ie-che stood by the stage and watched the dancers as Jake introduced them. The first was a young blond dressed in a very short, black dress. She had soft leather, high-heeled boots that came almost up to her knees and a strange, pointed hat. She looked over at the deejay and shortly after that a deep voice came over the speakers saying, "I was working in the lab, late one night..."

The girl swayed slowly around the stage until the music changed and the voice began yelling-- you couldn't really call it singing-- "He did the mash, he did the monster mash..."

The girl began jumping and moving around almost like she was running in place and stamping out insects at the same time. Sta-ie-che almost wanted to laugh at how terrible the girl's dancing was. Then the girl threw her hat into the crowd and the crowd cheered. Her tiny black dress followed to more cheers, leaving her dancing on stage in just her boots, a lacy black bra, and a tiny black thong. Just as the song finished out with "Then you can mash, then you can monster mash," she whipped off the bra and threw it out into the crowd before dashing off stage.

The deejay looked up at her as she stood laughing next to the stage. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"They don't train pleasure dancers very well on this planet, do they?" she said with a laugh.

"She's not the best," he replied with a shrug. Then, as a very drunk redhead wobbled onto the stage, he added, "but she's not the worst."

The redhead was terrible. She could barely stand up. She dropped her clothing at the edge of the stage, staggered to front, center stage and fell over backwards. She lay there on her back, barely conscious, with her knees drawn up and her legs spread wide as her song continued to play and the crowd hooted and made gross comments.

The deejay looked over at Sta-ie-che and shook his head. "OK," he said, nodding his head toward the stage, "she's the worst... the worst I've ever seen. And she is the worst every year. At least this year she didn't puke all over the front row."

A rather large man dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt with the word "Security" on it came out onto the stage, picked up the redhead and threw her over his shoulder. He slapped her ass loudly as he carried her off stage, but she didn't respond at all.

A few minutes later, a very stunning woman in a cowgirl outfit strode out onto the stage. A white cowboy hat contrasted greatly with the ebony skin of her face. Her white leather dress, even with the row of fringe around the hem, barely covered her ass. It was easily apparent that there was only a very tiny thong beneath it. A skimpy vest more or less covered her ample breasts. It was also very obvious that there was no bra under the vest. White boots with several rings of fringe on the top completed her ensemble.

This girl could dance. She bounced around the stage as her music blared. She had a microphone in her hand and was singing along with the recorded song. When it got to a chorus phrase, she would point the microphone at the crowd and they would join with "Save a horse, ride a cowboy."

The music then changed to an instrumental of some sort and the cowgirl started stripping off her outfit. Unlike some of the other girls, she did not throw her clothing into the crowd, but dropped each piece onto the stage. When she was down to just her minuscule white thong-- and of course, her boots-- the chant of "Take it off, Take it off, Take it off," roared up from the crowd.

In response, she toyed with the string sides of the thong for the final few bars of the song, but it was still in place when she bowed to the crowd at the end of the dance. After a few moments of applause, she turned around and bowed deeply to the back of the stage. When she bent over, it was almost as if she were naked on stage. The thin white stripe of fabric did nothing to hide her rear hole which she presented to the crowd. The crowd roared its approval all the while she was bent over carefully picking up all of her clothing from the stage. She turned to face the audience once again before bowing slightly and leaving the stage.

"She could win," observed the deejay. "It helps a lot if you sing, and especially if you work the crowd like that. If she wins, the video of her dance will be all over the net. If it goes viral, it will be seen worldwide and will be picked up on all the major news networks."

"I know how to send the message!" Sta-ie-che exclaimed suddenly.

"You're really into your character tonight, aren't you?" replied the deejay.

"I need something to write on," she said excitedly, and the deejay handed her a couple of small cards and a pen. "When the music changes..." she began writing on the first card

On the second card she wrote down two songs. She handed him the second card and said, "This is the music I want you to play." Then she handed him a third card with orders to give it to "the big earthling dressed in black." The deejay was laughing and shaking his head as she scampered off to take the first card to Jake.

By the time she returned, two more girls had danced on stage. Neither was very good. Sta-ie-che stood nervously at the edge of the stage area waiting for her turn on stage. Jake had said he was saving her for last, and he kept to his word. She waited for almost another hour.

None of the other girls who came on stage while Sta-ie-che was waiting were really notable, except for another girl who was so drunk that she was barely able to stumble on stage. She was naked as she walked up the steps to the stage, and it was obvious that she had recently had sex. At least she stayed upright. The crowd both cheered and booed as she staggered around the stage attempting to dance. Finally it became so pathetic that the deejay faded out her music and the security man walked onto the stage to escort her off.

When she was gone, Jake bellowed into his microphone, "I've saved this final dancer for last because she has come from such a long distance to join us tonight. Put your hands together for Sta-ie-che from the planet Turillia!"

The crowd screamed and applauded as Sta-ie-che flowed onto the stage, but they soon became silent as classical musical played from the speakers. She was still wearing the long dress formed by the black curtain as she pirouetted on point across the stage like a dancer from the Bolshoi Ballet. As she performed several of the classical ballet steps from Turillia, the silence slowly changed to cries of derision.

Sta-ie-che ignored the boos and hisses until the man in the black shirt was walking across the stage. She then curled herself slightly and pointed to the deejay as she pulled a microphone out from the folds of her dress and yelled, "Hit it!"

The heavy twanging beat of that great oldie, Louie, Louie suddenly blared from the speakers. As the security man grasped her dress, Sta-ie-che spun away from him until she was standing naked on the stage. She then faced the audience and began a leg-wobbling dance which she had seen someone named Tina Turner do on several of the older video transmissions from this planet.

As she danced, she was singing in time to the music. "Ut-ti-ma Wi-Cho, whoa... oh... oh, oh... pela-too-pa-wa-chi... ba-la-me-ka." She repeated it as the music looped once again through the riff, "Ut-ti-ma Wi-Cho, whoa... oh... oh, oh... pela-too-pa-wa-chi... ke-na-muka... ba-la-me-ka."

Jake's voice blasted over the speakers, "Sta-ie-che is trying to send a message to her fellow Turillians begging them not to destroy our planet. She needs your help. Sing along with her...."

Sta-ie-che pointed the microphone toward the audience as she sang loudly, "Ut-ti-ma Wi-Cho, whoa... oh... oh, oh... pela-too-pa-wa-chi... ba-la-me-ka. ... Ut-ti-ma Wi-Cho, whoa... oh... oh, oh... pela-too-pa-wa-chi... ke-na-muka... ba-la-me-ka."

The crowd followed along with her. They were totally butchering the words, but it was loud and raucous. "This time in English," she yelled as her dance changed to a bouncing hop across the front of the stage. She then began to sing, "General Wi-cho, whoa... oh.. oh.. it was an accident... meteorites... Oh, General Wi-cho, whoa.. oh.. oh.. it was an accident... do not attack... it was an accident... oh, oh, oh."

The crowd began singing with her as she spun and danced upon the stage. As she bounded from one end of the stage to the other, she used several of the standard pleasure dancer moves which thrust her cunt or her ass toward the audience while she simulated the pelvic motions of sexual union. The noise from the crowd was a combination of applause, screams, and the drunken shouting of the words she was singing.

The record was "the long version," so it continued for several more minutes. When the song finally ended she stood straight in the middle of the stage, bowed once using only her head, and strode from the stage as a proper pleasure dancer was expected to do.

***

Carson Daley stood in the orange room of The Today Show and said, "Halloween always brings out the weirdest of the weird, but this viral Halloween video of last night and today tops it all. We can't show you all of this video. We can't even show you most of it. Even with portions blacked out by our censors, it's a little too much for morning television, but here's a small excerpt."

The screen cut to the video at the point where Jake was introducing Sta-ie-che. Black squares covered her breasts and pelvic area as she spun out of her dress and began to dance across the stage. The crowd's singing was slurred, but understandable.

Matt Lauer's voice came up over the sounds of the video. "We had been planning to show a portion of the winner from our affiliate Channel Ten's Halloween Dance Contest anyway, but because of how popular this viral video has become, we flew in the winner and Jake Bolton to join us on the show this morning."

The scene cut to a portion of the set where Matt, Jake and Sta-ie-che were seated. As the camera came in for a close up of her green face, he said to Sta-ie-che, "I see that you are still in costume. That must be some really good makeup to survive all that dancing and then a flight here to New York."

"It is not a costume," replied Sta-ie-che. "It is the separation curtain from the escape pod to our spacecraft. I was the only survivor. We were hit by micro-meteorites, but the emergency beacon broadcast that we had been shot down. Captain Ha-ie-mak's final command was that anyone who survived should get the message back to General Wi-cho that it was an accident and to make peaceful contact. I am hoping that he got the message."

She smiled a rather nervous smile and continued, "Otherwise, the fleet will destroy earth."

Matt was trying very hard not to laugh as he asked the next question. "So, do you think he got the message?"

Before Sta-ie-che could answer, Carson suddenly ran into the image, stopped and looked back into the orange room. "I am being told," he said in a very measured pace, "... that our Twitter and Facebook accounts have just been hacked in some fashion. My screens are filled with a message that purports to be from General Wi-cho. He is demanding Sta-ie-che to give the proper contact frequency and verification codes."

Sta-ie-che stood up and faced the cameras. She said something in Turillian and then switched to English. "I know you can hear and see me, General Wi-cho. And I know that I am but a humble pleasure dancer." She dropped the black garment to the floor revealing her green body. She then stepped out of the shoes and walked closer to the camera.

Surprisingly, no one on the set moved to stop her and the director's voice could be heard yelling "No! Stay on her! Stay on her! Stay on her!"

"Please do not attack," she continued. "It was an accident. We were struck by meteorites that the sensors evidently interpreted as an attack from the planet's surface. The proper frequencies and verification codes died with the crew."

She paused and a look of deep sorrow covered her face as if for the first time she fully accepted the death of the five men who had become her friends. Then she recovered herself and spoke once again, "I am the only survivor. And I am only a pleasure dancer. But as the daughter of Admiral Mo-cha-nee, I was bound to complete the mission. This was the only way I could think of to send you a safe contact message."

She paused and looked directly into the camera in front of her. "The mission is everything," she said quietly. Tears of relief were streaming down her face as she added, "Peaceful contact has been made. I have discovered that the people of this planet are not that much different from the people of Turillia. Peace is definitely possible between us if we both want it-- which I'm sure we both do-- and if we are willing to work toward it."

She paused once again to wipe a tear from her eye and said softly, "I am sure that the government of this planet will transmit all needed contact information to you shortly."

***

And that, my friends, is how one Halloween night, a naked pleasure dancer from the planet Turillia became the first alien ambassador to planet Earth.

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