The Disco Drabbles


Untitled, by Tray

“This brings back memories,” Duncan commented as he inspected the interior of a box. They were cleaning out one of his many overstuffed storage units. “You know what I miss, Methos?”

Methos peered into the box. “Platform shoes?”

“No. Disco!” Duncan smiled, remembering. He looked down at the broad shoes nestled in their shoebox. “Those were the days! The dancing! The fantastic sparkling lights. The fun, the music, the freedoms of long, dark nights. And all the beautiful women!” He waggled his eyebrows.

Methos made a face, grabbed the box, and chucked it into the discard pile. “The weak ankles.”


***

Reminiscence, by McJude

"And what did you do during the 1970's, Methos?" Duncan asked. It was one of those quiet nights of brandy (for him), beer (for Methos), and conversation (one sided.)

"You know, the usual. University. . . dancing . . . drugs . . . parties."  Duncan seemed uninterested. "Well I did do a little song writing."

"You're tone deaf."

"Just words, not music. The music was all the same then anyway. Loud, disco beat. Remember?"

"Any hits?"

"Did you ever hear the song 'I WILL SURVIVE'?"

"How could I have missed it? Played it all the time. You wrote that?"

"No, Duncan, I lived that. Next question."


***

Tibet,  by elmyraemilie

He's finally cleaning out one of his warehouses. It's about damn time. I'm opening boxes at random, just to annoy, while he works his methodical way from carton to carton. The heap of dumpster fodder expands.

"You know, I asked for help, not critique." Apparently, he's not amused by my hysterical laughter.

I'm holding up white bell-bottomed trousers and a thin nylon shirt in a loud geometric print. "You didn't actually wear this, did you?"

"It was the style of the times, Old Man. No sillier than ruffs or togas."

"All the same. Thank God I was in Tibet."



***

Untitled, by Shell

“So, Mac, I thought you said that the costume shop had sold out?”

“It was.”

“So, where did you get the Austin Powers outfit then?”

*Mumble, mumble*

“What was that, I didn’t quite catch it?”

“I said it was mine.”

“Yours…That’s very, err… Dandy of you!”

“Yeah, alright, Methos, you can stop laughing now! Methos!”

“Sorry, Mac, I’m just picturing you dressed in that.”

“It was fashionable, everyone was wearing them. What, you didn’t I suppose?”

“Me? No. I actually have my own burden to bear…” *Shudders*

“Like what?”

“Try flares and Psychedelic wing collars. In a word, Disco!”

***

Bad Taste, by Tray


“Oh, look.” Amanda pointed to a newspaper advertisement. “Retro Disco Night. Let’s go!”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Duncan muttered.

“Disco not your thing, Highlander?” Methos asked.

“I was at a disco when I first heard Connor had one of his--“ Duncan made airquotes with his fingers, “--episodes.”

Methos smirked. “He has one of those every fifty years: thinking everyone is dead and he’s the Winner. I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“And no disco,” Amanda pouted.

Duncan glanced at the paper. “There’s a Glenn Miller concert we could go to.”



***

Fever, by Aethervox

"I'm telling you Joe, it's the truth."

"But he said that it was all made up."

"Yeah, well, we ran into each other a while back and he asked how I stayed so young looking, so I told him..."

"You told a journalist about Immortals?"

"Joe, did I say I told him the truth?"

"Hi, Joe. Hi Adam. What's going on?"

"Hey Duncan. Adam was telling me that in '76 he hung out at the 2001 Odyssey in New York."

"So?"

"He claims he was the inspiration for Tony Manero!"

"Well you know I'm really good at stayin' alive!"



***

Retro, by esjay

The bass beat shook the lift as Duncan travelled towards the loft. What the...? Last time he checked, he didn't live in a nightclub, nor were there any teenagers currently resident in Chez MacLeod.

Unbidden, his hips began to twitch. Ah-ah-ah-ah. He knew that song from somewhere. But why was it coming from his place?

The lift shuddered and Immortal presence shivered over him. He hauled up the gate and drew his sword.

"Amanda!" He scanned the crowd of dancers, finding another familiar face. "Methos!"

Neither looked particularly chastened.

"Settle down, MacLeod." Methos smirked. "It's just a historical re-enactment."


***