Congratulations Dance Instructor!

The man in the suit will have been watching you the entire class. At first you’ll think that he was some sort of pervert, someone who saw you dance years ago and just wanted to fuck you so bad he couldn’t give up for years and years. But as time goes on, as you watch how calm and collected he is, the way he assesses each of your movements like you’re a beast of burden, you’ll realize that his purpose is far darker.

But luckily he’ll just stand there and watch you while you teach. He’ll watch as your girls file out and then he’ll step up to you respectfully, set a manila envelope on your desk and take off his sunglasses.

“You already know why I’m here,” he’ll say.

“You already know my answer,” will be your response.

He’ll frown. “We don’t have any other options.”

“That’s not my concern.”

“This won’t be like Beirut.”

“Tell that to my kneecap. It still aches when it’s cold, you know.”

He’ll bite his lip.

“Read the file,” he’ll say, tapping the envelope. Sighing, you’ll pick it up and start.

Inside you’ll find out that Kim Jong-Il is actually a lot more competent than people give him credit for. Turns out he has not only acquired nuclear weapons but that he is also building an army of robotic supersoldiers to overrun America. Judging by the technological specifications in the report these soldiers would be nearly impossible to combat, even for sexy dance-assassins like yourself.

But you’ll see that the robotic supersoldiers are being designed by a single scientist, since North Korea doesn’t have that many smart people in it due to violent purges. If you eliminate this scientist the entire project will disintegrate. And this scientist is a big of children’s dance recitals.

“Tell me your plan,” you’ll say, dropping the contents of the envelope back on your desk.

The man in a suit will detail his plan. It’ll center around a group of Korean-American children who will put on a multi-cultural dance show for the scientist and a number of Korean dignitaries. Several of these children will be trained, by you, in dance-assassination. They will steal into his chambers, at great personal risk, and undo what he has done. They’ll risk their lives to save the world, but without you there’s no chance they’ll ever be able to dance out of the secret facility where he resides alive.

Biting your lip, you’ll look the man in the suit right in his dark, handsome eyes.

“Let me send out an email. I’ll need someone to cover my classes.”

He’ll nod and wait, patiently, as you go through your Outlook contacts, assembling a mailing list and coming up with a story about sick dogs or some shit that’ll keep you from working for a while. As tired as you’ll already feel you’ll be a little excited to be doing the work again. There will be some pride there, in teaching girls how to kill and do it right. It always was your forte.

Congratulations Dance Instructor!