He say at his usual table in the Pulsar Club, nursing his Dysprosia Slo-Gin with measured sips; too fast would lobotomize him, too slow would taste like luke warm tap water. He was chatting up a Krakoon Double Show Girl, her one hand gingerly caressing a cigarette holder, a slow smolder snaking upwards, the other stirring her whiskeean Zoda, the other primping her hair. Burton Sound Byte, explorer, adventurer and black hole gravity surfing bum, knew her forth hand would be soon fishing for his wallet, but he was plotting a better plan when the club's stage began to swirl in a foggy mist (too soon for the floor-show, Burton knew, for the suns had not yet fully set, and the lap-dancing Vampireesses of Nathor never came out until full dark), a spinning reflecting ball appeared ten feet above the floor, and white writhing shapes started coming into phase.
Burton dropped his drink and drew his service blaster (from the Saturn ring/moon wars), his eyes wide with forboding as the shapes took on impossible but familiar and terrifying forms: dressed in white linen robes and turbans, gold chains, rings and Astro watches -- Akbaar the Time Traveling Disco Terrorist and his Solid Gold Commandos stepped down from the stage (in a perfectly choreographed spin) and shimmied their way up to the bar.
"Greetingth, Burton Thound Byte. May the thun thine up you and yours," Akbaar oiled congenially in his trademark if not irritating lisp.
"What are you up to, Akbaar?" Burton, his blaster set on Frappe, kept it trained upon the rythmically gyrating Solid Gold Commandos, platinum Turbo Grenades dangling from their patent leather hip belts.
"We thall be heard, our demandth met," Akbaar began in the cosmic revolutionary jargon.
"To show that we mean buisthneth, we have gone back in time and replacedth Elvith Prethly with Andy Gibb, and the Beatlesth with Kay-Thee and the Thunthine Band."
"Who?" Burton asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Kay-Thee and the Thunthine Band," Akbaar repeated emphatically.
"The Thunthine Band? That's easy for you to say. Can you say 'she sold seashells by the seashore?"
"You know, Kay-Thee," Akbaar would not be distracted. "You know: 'I'm your Boogie Man, thath what I am...."
The Solid Gold Commandos began an intricate and extremely suggestive line dance, sonic bayonettes flashing dangerously while joining in on the chorus parts. The Krakoon show girl screeched in terror and covered all four ears as she heard lyrics that had been banned in over three hundred years by the Good Taste Act (which had be ratified in all quadrants except the Studio 54 system, which extends asylum to all disco outlaws.)
"Thake, thak, thake!" Akbaar reveled, "Thank your booty! Thake your booty!"
Burton looked wildly about, the situation nearing critical bass, Akbaar and his undulating band had the entire club cowering and crying for mercy, such was the power of the feared disco music upon unsuspecting souls. It was a fearsome weapon, in the hands of a dangerous zealot. He aimed his plaster at the spinning reflector ball and fired, it exploded with a shock of violence, pieces of cheap mirrored plastic flying everywhere, the Solid Gold Commandos a casualty from the shrapnel.
"You fool, Burton! You think my Warp Dance Ball wath my only meanth of time travel?" He activated his platform shoes which began to blink with colored strobe lights.
"You will hear from me again, Burton! And in the meantime, ponder the following: Thee Thold Theethells by the Theethore! Ha!" Akbaar and his writhing back-ups (though writhing in pain this time) faded from view, a heavy "Thumpa! Thumpa! Thumpa!" fading off as they left.
"Why, you saved us--" the show girl blinked her teary crystal blue eyes.
Burton paused for a moment and mused to himself, "Double the girl, double the fun," then he turned a wry smile. "And double the trouble."
"Come on, four eyes, we've got to follow him back in time, or Elvis will be singing "Shadow Dancin'" and The Beatles will be belting out "Thatís the Way (uh-huh, uh-huh) I Like It"
(They both shuddered as they shimmied back through time)