He pedaled on the stationary bike at the gym. He was losing patience. Someone had chosen the 20 minute ‘my ears are bleeding please for the love of god make it stop’ remix of Don’t Leave Me This Way. It was some 90’s remake., some chick who thinks she’s Thelma Houston. He loved disco as much as the next gay but this was intolerable.
Walking up to the counter, he knew the trouble already. The child behind the counter was probably not even conceived during disco. His parents had probably made love to Air Supply or (shudder) Michael Bolton. He had that ‘way too much poppers’ hangover on his face.
“What CD are you playing, the remix is intolerable!”
“Oh, I just set my Pandora to Oldies and let it play.”
Oh no he didn’t.
“DARLING,” he said with a dramatic pause, “don’t make grandpa come over the counter and kill you. How about typing in classic disco instead, that way you’ll live.”
The sudden serious look on his face made me know he took me seriously.