Normal Norman - Octavia & Vinnyl

>Be Renate Pfeiffer, German exchange student

>I rarely get called that though

>Due to my talent with the cello, the music professor gave me the nickname "Octavia" and it just stuck with everyone else

>Don't really care about what the "in crowd", or whatever they're calling themselves, do

>I'm in another country, studying in a different continent, and making my family proud by playing in both formal events and sponsored concerts

>Don't know about you, but that's good enough for me

>However, I can't seem to get Alvina, some electronica-obsessed girl, off my back

>Apparently, her parents forced her to go to one of my concerts in an attempt to get her off that horrendous music, and she recognized me from school

>Now she won't leave me alone and constantly tries to get me to listen to what she calls "Vinny's Epic Wubs", whatever the hölle that's supposed to mean

>I refuse to call her that as well

>Alvina is a beautiful name, rich in history and culture, both in literature and song

>Vinny sounds like some sort of Italian mobster

>Stupid, idiotic, uncultured, incompetent Italians...

>Anyhow, I seem to be able to avoid her easily enough between classes by wearing a green wig

>No such luck after school

 

>I recently heard from her that there was a new student attending the school

>Some guy named Norman, and apparently he was a Neo-Nazi!

>Truth be told, part of me wants to strangle him, but another part of me pities him

>After all, apparently his parents set him up for failure by giving him that name in the first place

>Norman, as in old deutsche for northerner? Referring to Prussians and Scandinavians?

>Ugly, stupid, barbaric, irredeemable Scandinavians...

>That was like calling one's son Bennito!

>However, some purple girl can't seem to stay away from him

>According to Alvina, she claims to be a princess from some horse world

>Typical slavic, starting the day with a bottle

 

>Friday night

>Somehow, Vinny "convinced" me to go with her to some club she works in during weekends

>The way she "convinced" me reminded me of stories my grandfather used to tell me of his time in the Deutsche Demokratische Republik

>"Remind me vhat I'm doing here." - I asked her coldly.

>"Oh come on, don't be like that! Since apparently no shop can fix your computer and you don't have a cellphone or a tablet, I might as well show you my album by playing it live!"

>Note to self: Reread grandfather's journal in order to come up with better lies

>"Well, I've got to get to work now. Go on and have fun, I'll catch you later!"

>Before I could answer back, she was gone

>Perfect. There was a reason I brought my green wig

>Putting it on, I made my way to the front door. No one would recognize me as long as I had it on

>Few people coming in and out, I'd be able to slip out unnoticed

>Almost at the door

>"Hey, it's Octy!"

>Octy...

>No way...

>There's no way that imbec-

>"It's you, isn't it? Yes it is! Wow, didn't think you liked going to clubs!" - I heard as I felt my wrist being grabbed just before being turned around to face...

>Brad

 

>How this Irish-descended neanderthal recognized me with my wig, I don't even know

>"Hallo Brad. It was gut seeing you. If you'll excuze me, I've got to go." - I said, trying to turn around and just leave

>"Wait! Come on, me and some friends managed to get a table!" - he replied as he pulled me towards said table

>To be honest, I fully expected the table to be occupied by the testosterone-filled anglo-saxons and zulus of the football team

>I'd never expected the neo-nazi guy and the slavic girl

>Correction, just the new guy. The girl fit perfectly here

>"So as I was saying, Ted passes the ball to me so I start running over to their..."

>Brad just continued talking and talking...

>The looks on both... er.... oh, right, Norman, and the purple slav, told their thoughts quite clearly

>The purple girl looked genuinely interested in Brad's explanation of a sport as barbaric as the original English-invented game it was based on

>Norman, on the other hand, looked ready to jump off a cliff

>With nothing better to do, I decided to talk to him

>"You do know people from many colorz and breedz go to clubz, right? So vhy are you here?" - I asked casually to someone so filled with hate

>"... wait, are you calling me a racist?" - he asked, apparently insulted by my question. Typical

>"No, I'm juzt vondering vhy you decided to come here."

>"Well, I had to get my mind off school, and Brad invited Purple to come here, and she invited me, so I thought what the hell, might give it a chance."

>He seriously calls the only person who talks to him Purple...

>"By the way, what's with the wig? I know your hair ain't green." - It was a fair question, to be honest

>"To hide. I play in high-clazz eventz. Have had my own concertz. I'm ze best cellist in the ze school, and is the reason I'm in zis country in ze first place. I can't be seen here."

>"Ah..." - he answered emptily. "Well, don't worry. I won't tell anyone about you partying or anything."

>"Danke, I suppose..."

 

>Be Vinny

>It's time to start the show

>"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" - I yelled into the microphone

>"PARTY" - yelled back the club

>"GOOD! BECAUSE DJ-HU3M4N IS IN DA HAUS!"

>And here we go. With skillful movement of dials and buttons, I began doing my thing.

>Lets see what Ms. Fancy thinks about this now

 

>Be Renate

>OhdearGodwhatinthefuckisthatnoise!

>The crowd is definitely going crazy, and what had been people dancing earlier has now turned into a riot

>"AWRIGHT, COME ON TWILY! LETS DANCE!" - yelled Brad, pulling the purple slavic girl to the dance floor

>However, she apparently didn't see it fit to leave her friend behind, and grabbed his hand, dragging him along

>"Vell, you enjoy your night. I've got to gAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" - I couldn't help but yell as my arm got grabbed again, getting pulled into a human chain heading into the last place I ever wanted to be in

>The Dance Floor

>Minutes passed, feeling like hours, the sheer human ocean keeping me trapped there while being bombarded with what could only be described as a computer's sound card having a seizure

>"COME ON OCTY, DANCE!" - yelled out Brad despite him being right next to me

>Then again, with this noise, yelling was the only way to communicate

>What happened next caught me by surprise, as Norman grabbed my hand

>"COME ON, LETS DANCE!" - he said as he tried to lead a dance with me

>Or rather, it looked like dancing. Then again, compared to the random spazzing of everyone there, a drugged monkey would look like an expert dancer

>"OK, JUST DO AS I DO!" - he said, moving from side to side, making hand and arm gestures, and so on

>I'm just glad he didn't ask me to flail my arms

 

>As much as I hate to admit it, and as horrific as the noise was, this was rather fun

>This went on for a few more minutes before the "rythm" of the... -can't actually call it a song, but rather- noise slowed down

>"Oh! Hold on, let me try something!"

>"Try something? Vhat do you mea- WOAH, HEY!"

>"Relax. I saw this in a movie." - he said as he began spinning while holding unto me

>For a moment there, I thought he was trying to do some salsa, which kind of eased my mind

>That turned into horror when the idiot let go

>I would later learn that what he was trying to do was some sort of disco move, and the movie he was referring to was "Airplane"

>When I regained my composture, I looked around to try and get my bearings

>I found myself next to one of the gigantic speakers

>At the slowest point of the song

>OHSWEETMOTHEROFGO-

>WUB-WUB-WUB WUBWUB WUBWUB-WUB-WUB-WUB WUBWUBWUBWUB WUB WUB-WUB-WUB