Z Bone: Fifty Years Later
   By Link (with apologies to Clarence P. McDonald).

For fifty years, the ASSC team had strived to reach its goal
Of 300 laps unbroken, but failed to keep control.
In dancers' arms, three suffered strokes, another went flat-line.
Despite it all, the record stood at Z Bone's 2-9-9.

"It can't be done," said ALS, a pallor on his face;
"I've got two laid up in traction, another in neck brace;
And should someone get bruised or crippled in another way,
The group would sure be down and out, with no one left to play.

"We're up against it anyhow as far as I can see;
My men aren't sitting like they should, and that's what worries me;
Our time is running out to take the glory and the win;
We won't accept an old folks' home, with nurse laps now and then."

The Mayor had proclaimed the date, "Strip Club Reunion Day."
The team had gathered at CP, a solemn wreath to lay
Upon the spot -- or rather stain -- where Z Bone left his mark
That through the years had faded to the texture of pine bark.

The brain implants and VR gear at Deja-Vu MB
Had hurt the CP's cash flow, but the spirit still reigned free.
The dances, at 200 bucks, were still the best around.
The office still the top choice for an evening on the town. 

The dancers, still in their twenties, and fresh as fresh can be,
Were staring at the office. Hey, look, it's Eye and DougLee!
Dodger, Trighap, Sick, Saxbeat, LMR, Bubba, and Laar!
SubSonic, RJ, and Dave's Friend! I know they traveled far. 

And ALS, the owner -- since CP1 passed away.
(He died happy in Holly's arms around the first of May.)
It's true they all had wrinkles, and they often needed naps,
But years of constant training had kept them top-notch in laps.

Then ALS stepped forward and announced his battle plan.
The record would be broken by the veterans of the land.
So the old and weary lappers gave everything they had,
But 200 laps in sequence was all that they could add.

"Will no one else try his luck!," the brand new owner pleaded;
"After fifty years, don't give up. Courage is what's needed.
We came to win the record -- and that's what we're doing here.
There's only one thing I can do -- call for a volunteer!"

ALS stood and pondered in a listless sort of way.
He never was a quitter, and he would not be today!
"So many in the office here"-- his voice rang loud and clear,
"Is there a man among you with a lap to volunteer?"

Just then an awful silence settled o'er the multitude.
Was there a man among them with such recklessness imbued?
ALS stood with hat in hand, was hopeless in his glance,
And then a shadowy figure called out, "I'll take the chance!"

Into the chair he bounded with a step both firm and light;
"If you'll bring on Miss Molli, I'll soon finish up the fight.
If pride is now beyond recall, I'll last a mighty round;
Although I'm ancient, you will find me muscular and sound."

His hair was sprinkled here and there with little streaks of gray;
Around his eyes and on his brow, a bunch of wrinkles lay.
The crowd confused; its mood was dark, "Who is this salty pap?"
"Why, he's all right!" one dancer yelled. Another, "Let him lap!"

"All right, go on," ALS said. The stranger turned around,
Took off his coat, and his shirt, too, and threw them on the ground.
And Molli, looking just the same since fifty years ago,
Stepped to the chair and cracked a grin, and started grinding slow.

The two shook and wheezed in passion, cranked up to lightning speed;
Like love birds, they moved just as one, and nothing else would heed.
At 100, they hit their stride -- things began to sizzle.
At 200, in warp drive -- their hair began to frizzle.

His feet were planted on the ground, legs in clock-like motion;
Her feet were wrapped around his girth, teasing like an ocean.
At 2-9-9, they slowed a bit, careful with every stroke,
Till through 300 laps they went, that long-held record broke.

The crowd went wild and lifted them on shoulders through the hall.
And on the street, they rushed about -- the story to recall.
The Mayor, who had heard the news, decided then and there,
To present the city keys to this most deserving pair.

"But what's his name?" the Mayor asked.
"Tell us your name!" cried all,
As down his cheeks, great tears of joy were seen to run and fall.
For one brief moment, he was still, then murmured soft and low:
"I am the mighty Z Bone who splooged fifty years ago."

Link