“May I have the next dance?”
“You’re making fun of me, buddy!” Hutch looked annoyed.
“Who wanted me to show him some dancing steps for the next police
ball?" Starsky asked, moving his hips to the rhythm of a Rumba. “Your last chance.”
Reluctantly, Hutch stepped into Starsky’s arms.
“Think of your posture!” Starsky was in his element. “Don’t
look down. Look at my pretty face.”
“Stop bossing me around!” Hutch complained.
“Ow! That was my foot!” Starsky whined.
“I give up,” Hutch said.
To his surprise, Starsky bent him backwards and whispered, “I call
the shots. You are great!”
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