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Mostly satirical short stories
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Hendrik the Temporally-challenged Hipster (3)

Posted 08-24-18 at 02:06 AM by Luthien
Updated 08-24-18 at 03:20 AM by Luthien

"George", Hendrik said from the corner of his mouth, "... I think it's best if you sit down, too."

Without a word, George sat down on a nearby chair, curious what Hendrik was up to. Though he had failed to understand what either party had said, the overall tendency of the conversation was clear enough. Someone was going to get his ears washed, and that someone wasn't Hendrik.

The threesome, inebriated as they were from having established their exclusive superiority, merely wondered when Hendrik would fall on his knees and beg them to be admitted to even the lowest ranks of hipsterdom.

Then Hendrik turned towards his visitors on the couch and snapped his fingers. The lights dimmed, shutters closed behind the windows. A black-light tube flickered on, and several coloured spot-lights centred on Hendrik, who assumes his theatrical disco pose. Lastly, a disco ball started spinning around slowly, casting hundreds of coloured flecks of light all through the room. Amazingly, all this took barely five seconds.

"Yes. I talk like my grandfather indeed", Hendrik said. “How else could we understand one another?”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and by some ingenious lighting trick it was as if he was a few inches taller than before and seemed to tower over his guests, who were looking like stunned bearded fish, their eyes and mouths wide open.

"It's .... Dr. Disco!" they gasped in unison.

"Dr. Who?", George inquired, apparently not noticing anything more extraordinary than he was usually used to with Hendrik.

The hipster closest to him pointed at Hendrik and stuttered: "That! He! I mean, dude, him! He's Dr. D-Disco!"

"Why yes, sometimes he is", George confirmed, leaning back, finishing he last sip of his blue drink. "He is now, for instance."

"Dude no I mean, you don't see he's the legendary Doctor Disco A.K.A. *The I-incredible Hipster*!" the Hipster pointed still with a trembling finger.

"Dude! He won't know that!", one of his brethren-in-coolness added.

"He's the legendary Interdimensional Cosmic Guardian of Cool! He travels through Space and Time in his D.I.S.C.O.!"

"What's that? George asked, spotting the acronym.

The hipsters hushed together for a moment. "Dimensional Inter-Spatial Coolness ... *ehm* ... Occupator", one said.

"Oozifier" Hendrik said, relaxing his pose. "It's Oozifier, gentlemen, though I think the word's poorly chosen. But yes, I am indeed Dr. Disco (no acronym), or, more correctly, the current one. It's a job, not a name. I'm from Galactic Cool Central; we Guardians of Cool travel through space and time, always on guard for Coolness Corruption and ... 'Licensed To Correct' if such action is deemed necessary."

He flashed a colourful ID card. "It's good honest work", he added. "And it seems I've been away from this place a bit too long this time ... " he stared at the three, who by now looked like schoolboys caught drawing a naughty picture on the blackboard.

"Er. Dude. Yes, we missed you", one said.

"So it seems."

Hendrik sauntered around the couch, hands on his back, like a schoolteacher ready to scold a class of blockheads.
The hipsters definitely looked very ill at ease now.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, you know", Hendrik said.

"Um. Well. Do we", one said.

"Do we?" Hendrik repeated from behind their backs, "... do we? Do we need to be ashamed of ourselves when we don't share and enjoy the abundance of Cool but nitpick a laughable set of recent gunk and rubber-stamp that as "hip" instead?"

"Dude. You gotta be wi-"
"Silence!" Hendrik snapped, causing the three to visibly bounce upward. Thunder rumbled again, and the disco ball lights turned an ominous shade of purple.

"And shouldn't we feel like a bunch of Dreckhamsters when we deploy our Vibes only to form deplorable cliques of ... how should I call it ... hipster-Borg-drones? Have you looked at yourself? You all look identical! You use the same incrowd-buzzwords! You wear the same lame clothes! You drink the same beer wearing the same ironic caps at the same stupid time! You listen to the same music! You call THAT cool?"

There was no answer, just the awkward silence of shrivelling ego's. Hendrik shook his head and resumed his pace.

"I don't know what's wrong with you! It's indeed as if you're turning into some kind of Borg, though without their aggressive ... inclusiveness and those cool laser-gadgets. I should talk to Dr. ... whatsisname ... "

"Dr. Who?", George suggested.

"I can't think of his name, that's exactly the problem", Hendrik frowned, pounding his left hand with the fist of his right hand. "There's Dr. Boo of Scary Services, Dr. Loo of Expansion Control, Dr. Flu of the Sneezing Squad, Dr. Shoo of the Embarrassment Institute, Dr. Poo of you-know-what ... Zonking Zebedeus! I should take it a bit easier with those weekly Cool Central house-parties."

He halted, thinking for a few seconds.

"Ah well, it doesn't matter. I'll look it up."
"You guys", he said, turning to the now definitely meek-looking ex-hipsters, "... for now I'm going to have to disable your Coolness - I best make that planet-wide - ..."

Hendrik walked over to what George had thought of as an aluminium cupboard, but which turned out to be a complex control panel for the D.I.S.C.O.'s Cool Central machinery. He hesitated for a while, then pressed a few buttons. A buzzer sounded with a cool funky rhythm, and a row of indicator lights blinked.
George pressed some other buttons, turned a few dials and punched in some keys, resulting in a catchy tune played by his electronic gadgetry.

George turned around.

"That should take care of that", he said.
"All over the world, hipsters will now turn into very, eh, regular people. At least until Dr. ... Wossname has figured out where that weird Borg-like group behaviour comes from. I hope it's nothing serious."

"What could it be?" George asked.

"Dunno", Hendrik shrugged. "Could be anything from a virus to a conspiracy from Beyond. Or maybe a design flaw."

He turned towards the three ex-hipsters.
"You're free to go", he said. "You'll feel a bit unusual first, being both an individual and without your Cool, but you'll get used to it."

They got up from the couch, already visibly more different from one another, looking rather pale and shaky. They nodded, picked up the sunglasses and empty beer-cans they had dropped and left.

After the door had shut, Hendrik snapped his fingers again, and the D.I.S.C.O. morphed back into Hendrik's regular room again.

"Well, well. That was interesting", George remarked.

"Wasn't it?" Now Hendrik looked puzzled, for as down-to-Earth as George was, he had surely expected him to be a bit more bewildered than that.

"You didn't find it ... unexpected in any way?" Hendrik probed carefully.

"No ... should I?" George snapped his fingers and quickly swivelled around with a dramatic swishing sound. Before Hendrik there now stood a figure clad in an impressive uniform.

"Dr. Regular!", he exclaimed. "You really got me there .... George!"

George grinned. "It's all in a day's work for Dr. Regular from the Galactic Office of Relaxation and Meta-Matters".

He produced a small notebook and made a few scribbles. "Good job there, Hendrik. You showed remarkable restraint with those three spoiled brats ... I would have slapped them!"

He put the notebook away. "Have they invented pizza's in this place already?"
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