How To Teach Your Demonically Possessed Toys to Dance

I saw a movie trailer the other day, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

It came on in the theater before the movie I was seeing with friends (Sisters, with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, which was great). I was psyched for the trailers, because any movie advertised before Tina and Amy is going to be hilarious, right? So I didn’t really know what to make of this one:

Maybe it was the cocktail I had at dinner, or maybe it was because I was expecting comedy before comedy, but I couldn’t stop giggling at Brahms the Doll Boy. I mean… Brahms. I almost slid out of my movie seat snort-laughing. Even after Sisters was over and we were driving home, I kept remembering Brahms and spontaneously breaking into laughs again. OH, BRAHMS, YOU MISCHIEVOUS/MURDEROUS RASCAL WITH THE DEVIL’S PORCELAIN VISAGE.

The fact is, days later I’m still thinking about Brahms. I find myself imagining him in everyday situations, and I’m telling you, it really is quite a delightful mental exercise. For example, at a party over New Year’s Eve, someone was trying to teach me how to do the Roger Rabbit. You know, that classic 80s dance jam:

I am terrible at the Roger Rabbit. People who know how bad I am at dancing think it’s funny to try to teach me, but I always look like I’m in a robotic monkey band, marching and playing the cymbals. I just don’t get it. But as I was stepping-and-popping-and-flailing away, I wondered: How might one teach Brahms to do the Roger Rabbit? I think it might go like this…

 * * *

OK, Brahms. Start by loosening up your shoulders and throwing those elbows back.

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You don’t have to say anything, Brahms. Dance is the universal language.

Are you feeling the beat in your bones, Brahms? Nod if you feel it. OK, now get those knees up high and step backward.

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That’s a tad too far back, Brahms.

Now put the two together! On 5 and 6 and 7 and 8 and… go!

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Snacks after we dance, buddy. I promise.

Pop that chest out, Brahms!

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I think you can bring a little more energy to this.

Look, Brahms. If you’re not into this, I’m not going to keep showing you. I don’t Roger Rabbit for my health, you know.

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I can’t read you right now, kid.

C’mon. The bigger your back-kick, the better your front-pop. Just try.

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Maybe you’re more suited to crafts or something, no offense.

Look, I’ll draw you this little circle, and you just stay in it and dance. This is your dance globe, buddy.

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Brahms, man. You are literally the worst dancer. Ever. You should be sweating by now, and you’re just sitting.

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I don’t believe this. Is that a TEAR, you steely-eyed little fucker?

That’s emotional manipulation, and you know it. You’re manipulating me right now, Brahms.

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I thought we shared a dream. Do you even have a dream, Brahms? If you do, it must be a dream to do the opposite of dancing, forever.

You know what, Brahms? I don’t think you ever did want to learn the Roger Rabbit. Not at all. I think you were playing me. And I fell for it.

DAMMIT, Brahms.

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