Orson was a professional dancer with some of the top acts. His fiance left him because she thought he was cheating with a famous female singer. Crushed, he decided to start a new life elsewhere.
His new place was on the third floor and his landlord was nice enough to help him bring things upstairs. He gave him $20.
Orson went to a club that night to try to forget. The others formed a circle around him as he flashed his best moves. He had too much to drink. Walking home he decided to take the shortcut his landlord suggested. Halfway across a long field, it began to rain hard. He cursed his life.
Behind him, he heard a sound and whirled. His landlord stood there holding a gun. Evidently, he had seen Orson's jewels and Rolex.No one will miss you, he said. Orson was not going to die in a mud puddle.
"Wait", he begged. "You can have the jewels and watch, plus I'll toss in free dance lessons."
The landlord dropped his arm to his side.
"Can I wear Lycra?" he asked, hopefully.
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