The little girl found herself on the edge of the crowded dance-floor, wondering if she was alone or if she should go look for whomever she was supposed to be with. Strobe lights flashed, making her think that 100 police cars and fire trucks were all parked together in that studio. It was certainly big enough. Along the sides there were latticework of platforms and steps where dense shadows of people squirmed and contorted in random shapes to the beat of the bass. She wondered if the people would just keep dancing if the music stopped but the beat kept going by itself.

Then, as her eyes adjusted to the lights, she noticed a shiny sphere in the crowd near the middle of the room. Even though everyone around her was at least a foot taller than she was, she could see it because it was at least 2 feet taller than the heads of the dancers. As she looked, she realized it was moving, and not necessarily in time to the music. It seemed to be drifting slowly in her direction. As it came closer, she realized it was actually a head, attached to a huge man that appeared to be dressed in chrome, with a matching, chrome dome on it's head. And then, as he was nearly on her, he looked at her, and then did a double-take as he looked directly at her. She noticed then that he had a companion with him, a green guy (all over! Skin and everything!) He was much shorter, though, not much taller than she was. He practically tripped over her before jumping back, exclaiming in surprise.

"Oh! I'm sorry a – ." Then he paused, his eyes widening in surprise and alarm. "How – how did you get in here?" he shouted. He had to; it was the only way he could make himself heard over the racket.

"Are you OK?" his enormous, shiny friend hollered at her, having to bend over almost double to make sure she heard him. "Do you need some help? Who are you here with?"

"Nobody!" she shouted back. "I don't know how I got here! I happened here, really fast."

The large man and the green guy with the Mr. Spock ears looked at each other. "How old are you?" The shiny guy shouted back at her."

"Eight – no, nine!" she replied. "My birthday was 2 weeks ago!" She paused and before either of the two men could speak again, she continued, "I think this is my birthday party! My mom said I would be surprised for my birthday."

The 2 men glanced at each other again, the green guy shrugged, but the chrome man suddenly grinned. His grin was reeeeeally big, just like the rest of him.

"Well, if this is your party, the least I could do is ask you to dance!" he laughed. Then he picker her up – and up and up and up – hitched her over his elbow like a small child. She tensed, expecting the metal he was wearing to shock her, but it wasn't cold at all; it was like the dryer on wash day, very warm. Then there was a breeze buzzing around her as the metal man started ballroom-dancing her all around the floor. It was like a carnival ride; she could see over the heads of all the other dancers on the bottom and was looking eye-to-eye with the dancers on the higher platforms – or she could have, if she could have seen their faces. All around the spun and dipped, not in any rhythm related to the music, but to a 3-time waltz only he could hear. He didn't have to wind his way slowly through the crowd like the regular-size people did. Pathways just automatically opened in whichever direction he turned.

He twirled her until she was dizzy and breathless from giggling. He then began to move slowly to the edge of the crowd, slowing down. They exited the sea of people, and then he set her gently down on her feet again.

"Here you go, little lady," he said, more softly this time, but she could still hear him perfectly. "What's your name?" She told him, and he kissed her cheek. "Happy Birthday, ." And then he stood up to go, but before he had turned away completely, she suddenly realized – "

"Hey! What's your name?" she called.

"They usually just call me 'Cy.'" And he waved as he blended with and then disappeared as the dancers closed around him. The little girl stood for a moment after he vanished, then turned and walked slowly into the warm, comforting darkness behind her to emerge, snuggled safely in the warm folds of her blankets and quilts....

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My 9-yr-old related this to me early one morning. Teen Titans is her favorite show, and Raven is her favorite character. This may not seem particularly special, but this child has some speech and language challenges she struggles with and to be able to relate a coherent story in "her own words" is quiet an event. Thx for reading. Review if you feel so inclined.