This week's four lines of prose are sponsored by the prompt: dance partners.
I do believe this is all I'll schedule for now, so if no posts show up in the next two days then I didn't manage to find net access while I was away. I don't expect that to be the case, but if that's how it turns out... please accept my apologies in advance.
The fourth time he stepped on my toes I began to pray for a freak lightning strike to take out the lead singer of the band to put me out of my misery.
After the seventh time I thought that perhaps my toes were finally going numb and relief was at last mine.
The eighth time proved that to be terribly optimistic thinking.
When my poor toes were crushed a twelfth time I knew there was only one escape route that would do the trick: faking an epileptic seizure.