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Shegomania, Chapter 21: Something wacky this way comes
Shegomania, Chapter 21: Something wacky this way comes
Halloween flitted, shambled, cavorted and squirmed its way around the digs of Dr. Drakken. Dracula’s wives, looking awfully like Shego and the older Shegoth, flitted along a cobwebbed corridor bustling with the ghostly dancing of windblown draperies.  The master awaited them within the decayed elegance of the partially tumbled down ballroom: finger bones of moonlight reached in through fissures and rents in the masonry to caress the wax encrusted candelabra, dusty marble and monster with frost.

  He stood in the heart of the chamber stabbed straight through with moonlight as Shego, in her flowing wraith of diaphanous silks, slid gracefully in the ballroom on rollerblades hidden under the the darkened train of her dress.  At her approach, the orchestra, a ghoulish assemblage of undead, banged forth from their tumbled, rotted coffins ; began the twelve chime opening of Camille Saint-Saen’s Danse Macabre as Shego, more undressed than anyone but her husband abruptly realized, ghosted her cinnamon and pumpkin pie scented body into his awaiting embrace.

She looked up at him with what would have been a large eyed innocent look if it were not for the innate fractal smirk that poked the barest flash of incisor into her expression.   

“Did I forget anything?”

 “Only most of your costume.” He placed his hand a little lower down her back than was officially sanctioned in the waltzing handbook, led his wife in the dance.

In attendance, a red headed succubus outfitted Carmine Palisander* turned to her companion; declared:  “You’re wearing the same outfit, but Shego pulls it off better than you!” Her partner, a completely costumed Stygia, shrugged within her bodysuit while trying desperately not to quip that ‘pulling it off’ was exactly her boss’ secret costume maneuver. She got by with: “Moonlight makes everything look sexier.” 

The waltz was winding down. Drakken quirked an eyebrow at his wife: “I’m curious.”


“Your plan.” 

She leered : “Maybe I’m just that shameless!” 

“Maybe you are!” 

Shego fell in love even more deeply with the man who absolutely trusted her. She brushed up against his excited frame; whispered in his ear: “Only Vith you!”

At that precise moment the quartet of Stoker heroes, albeit female variants, interrupted the scene: a Dies Irae Von Helsing seemed to stake Drakkula--he hammed on the spot...stake?--as a Kohran Quincy, Umbra Harker and Nocturne Raven Seward dragged the struggling Shego behind a pillar where the flickering torch shadows recorded a hidden, oversized axe decapitation. 

The assembled guests applauded. The orchestra struck up the strains of Prokofiev’s Dance of the Knights, and the guests paired up; whirled gracefully about the hall. 

Towards the end of  the Capulet dance, the host and hostess reappeared recast as C. A. Rotwang and his lasciviously nefarious automaton, Robot Maria.

After the music, Drakkwang raised his splayed fingered mechanical hand into his character’s iconic pose ; declared in a ridiculous mock German accent, “Isn’t it worth the loss of a hand to have created the party robot of the future, the Maschinenmensch?!”** 

Shego-bot intoned, “Everybody, get down!” She tilted her comely metallic hip, lifted her left index finger skywards in time to the descent of a light scattering disco ball.

Abruptly the scene changed: ruined castle midnight became retro futuristic city scape; undead orchestra morphed into proles operating a vast cog and driveshaft infested jukebox that vented steam and music: Staying Alive, to be specific. 

Drakken, an impressive banana grin sketched across his blue face, applauded his wife; the assembled guest took it up. Shego curtsied with a clank, took the lead in time to the Bee Gees.

It was quite the party. 


*Shegomania, chapters 11, 12

**Almost a direct Metropolis quote

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