Chapter 2 — Everybody to the Dancefloor!

 

The moment DJ Funji Squallshy dropped the first beat, the entire room vibrated. Lucy’s eyes lit up.

“Ohhh I LOVE this song!” she squealed, grabbing Sarah, Susan, and—accidentally—WhizzAir Winky, who was swept into the excitement.

Sgt. Salty took a deep breath. A hush fell, the kind that precedes regret.

And then—it happened. The Salty Shuffle.

A dance so legendary, so physically questionable, that Ye Olde Large Lad had to steady himself on a table. Salty flung one arm in the air and his legs moved as though they had each downloaded different, dodgy dance tutorials.

Lucy burst out laughing. “Oh my God, he dances like someone rebooted mid-move!”

“That’s the Salty charm, that is,” McFinleyyy declared, adjusting his tie. “Unpredictable. Unhinged. Unmistakably… Salty.”

WhizzAir Winky, committed to the chaos, attempted a spin but accidentally helicoptered into Ramadan Patel, creating an accidental Beyblade battle on the dancefloor. Sarah and Susan were living for it.

“Go on Salty! Shake it like it owes you money!” “Yessss! Show them why they call you SGT. SALSA!”

Lucy clapped, her joy infectious. Soon even The Govna—who dances like a tax auditor—was swaying with bureaucratic precision. Ron Beefmaster tried to join but moved so aggressively that Candle of Spices had to shout, “BOSS! This is dancing, not calf-raising for war!”

Amid the chaos, the lights dimmed and a disco ball descended. Salty winked at Lucy.

“Stay close, we’re about to drop my signature move.” “Oh God, there’s a signature?” Lucy laughed.

Salty crouched. The anticipation was palpable. He shot up—a leg kicked—a fist pumped—a yell escaped—

And then—The Salty Slingshot.

A move so powerful it accidentally launched a nearby bowl of crisps into low orbit. Everyone cheered. Lucy was crying from laughing so hard. Even Whining Cole cracked a smile.

The dancefloor didn’t just come alive... It Salty-fied. And the night was only beginning.

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