A long time ago on an ancient isle far, far away (about 3,000 miles northeast of Cleveland), there dwelled a little spirit. She didn't have a name, but she had big, soulful eyes and played the flute pretty well--so okay, she only knew one tune, but there weren't any critics around at the time to make a big deal out of it.
For a while, the Little Spirit was pretty content living on the island all alone, romping and roaming and playing her flute. But after a time, she became bored and wanted some company--or at least some better entertainment since she didn't have access to the Internet. So one day she sat down, picked up her little flute, and played her simple tune, wishing really, really hard. Sure enough, she was able to conjure up a few vestal virgins and some virile young men.
Watching these youngsters dance round and round in circles made the Little Spirit happy for a time. But it wasn’t long before the she remarked to herself, "There's something wrong here. All these kids do is dance, and they mostly do it with their arms at their sides (the Spirit was not an Irish dance purist, you see, and she liked to see a little upper body movement). Furthermore, they rarely smile when they dance!"
"Well," the Little Spirit vowed, "I'll have to do something about that." So she took some of her magic dust (patent pending) and threw it into the fire. Wonder of wonders, out of the smoke there arose this really hot, more mature bloke (in reality, he had just arrived on an early Aer Lingus flight from Chicago, but the Little Spirit didn't know the difference). The newcomer was clad in a tight gold T-shirt and trousers that fit like gravy over mashed potatoes. These breathtakingly provocative accoutrements were topped off with a black sweatband around golden locks, a diamond loop earring, blue body paint, and just a splash of Bernini. "Yes-Yes-Yes," the Spirit thought, "this is definitely more like it!"
In no time at all, the new guy showed he could fit right in with the youngsters, and he became the leader of the clan. He exercised his authority in benign ways, however, like cutting out just one vestal virgin from the herd for himself (it was apparent right away that he had a predilection for leggy blondes). Though he had more costume changes than the rest and always danced in the front, he unselfishly taught the youngsters to blend in arm movements with their dancing and to dance and smile at the same time, just as he did.
The Spirit named the stranger the Lord of the Dance because he showed all the young boys and girls how to do it--and he improved their dancin'. To tell you the truth, things definitely took a turn for the better after that. The young kids were happy, the spirit became a voyeur, and the Lord of the Dance wore a big grin all the time.
As we all know, the Lord of the Dance was pretty cute, so, as you might expect, his new girlfriend had to stay on her toes all the time to keep away the competition, especially this one particular wild babe known as the Gypsy who was a world-class vamp. In all actuality, the LOTD's inamorata shouldn't have worried about the Gypsy, though, because everyone knows the Lord of the Dance prefers blondes, and this rival girl had dark hair. But the Lord's significant other didn't want to take any chances, and she was jealous anyway because she thought the dark-haired girl was loose. She had come to that conclusion because the Gypsy wore red dresses, while it is accepted fact that vestal virgins wear only white or pastels. Anyway, the Lord's girl had to show the Gypsy she was no pushover and that she had some pretty sexy moves herself. To prove it, she and the other virgins did a striptease in front of the Gypsy that was enough to shock a Playboy subscriber and it succeeded in driving off the Gypsy in abject humiliation.
Well, wouldn't you just know it, the LOTD himself came sauntering by just as his gal was putting on this little exhibition. He was so struck by her performance that he had to show off a little himself, since guys usually don't like to be outdone by girls. He assembled his men and drilled them, military-style, right then and there in front of the light-of-his-life. He put his guys through their paces in fine order, and they never missed a step. Needless to say, Blondie was so impressed by this syncopated male display that she let the LOTD feel her up a little.
Not long afterward, Erin the Goddess showed up looking for work as a singer. She was fair and beautiful and always wore green frocks that set off her bright red hair in the most becoming way (the LOTD wasn't sexually attracted to her, though, because she reminded him of his mother, only younger). Erin had been disappointed not to get work with the Chieftains who she heard had an opening for a singer after Michael Flatley left--turned out to be just a rumor put out by Larry King. Since the LOTD had already taken charge of the clan by then, he invited Erin stay and even to sing now and then. Sometimes she vocalized in the ancient tongue of the land, but when she did, no one understood a word--well, actually the LOTD did know how to count to four and to swear in the old language, and he had acquired enough vocabulary to put the moves on a comely maid if he happened to be out wenching in County Donegal.
A couple of violinist chicks happened to join up with the group about the same time. No one ever knew exactly where they came from, but they had just the right qualifications -- they were blond, talented, and gorgeous. They usually played high-spirited pieces, but one time they got to fiddling a lament that put the whole clan in a real black Irish mood. With the quick thinking befitting the Mensa candidate he was, the LOTD sent out one of the guys for a keg of Guinness, and they all downed a few pints. That really got 'em rocking. The LOTD took out his flute and showed them how to jam. Along with his fluting, he did some sexy bumps and grinds, proving he had some pretty good moves himself. I don't think I need to tell you, his gyrations drove all the females into a frenzy. Fortunately, everyone got pissed (for you North American readers, that means drunk) and passed out before the guys could start jumping the virgins, whose numbers were already diminishing at an alarming rate.
It would have been happily-ever-after on the island at this point if this bunch of wild guys hadn't shown up. They all wore black T-shirts with matching trousers and black masks (they only sported masks because they were all young and so good lookin' that no one would have taken them seriously as villains if their faces could be seen). The leader of the group, or Dark Lord as his men called him since his real name was too wimpy for an antihero, distinguished himself from his men by wearing suspenders and by the fact that he could dance faster than they could. It should be noted here that he had experimented with a purple Power Ranger outfit, but it almost caused anarchy in the ranks because his men couldn't stop laughing long enough to rape and pillage.
Well, as you may have already guessed, it was only a matter of time before the two lords clashed. And, sure enough, one day while the Little Spirit was out playing her single tune on her little flute, the Dark Lord and his wild bunch showed up. They started teasing the Little Spirit, grabbing her flute, holding it over her head, and tossing it all around. Even though she jumped, reached, and stomped her little feet, she just couldn't retrieve her flute. They teased and taunted her, and the Dark Lord even broke in half the Little Spirit's flute, carelessly tossing the pieces to the ground. Need I tell you, the Little Spirit was absolutely devastated--after all, her flute was the only thing she possessed in the whole world. Just when she thought she'd never escape the clutches of the Dark Lord and his men, along came the LOTD, and he was REALLY pissed (for you Brits, that means angry in a big way). After all, if it hadn't been for the Little Spirit, he'd be back in Chicago working in his Da's plumbing business, and he felt an affinity with her because they were both flautists (although he played better, won world championships, wrote tunes, and had a successful CD, proving he had fast little fingers as well as fast little feet). Is there no limit to this man's talents?
The two Lords started mixing it up, and the LOTD gave a good accounting of himself on account of the fact that he learned to box when he was a tyke and had to carry his flute case and his dancing shoes through the city's tough South Side every day.
While there were many verbal threats and lots of posturing among both lords and their supporters, the first pugilistic encounter between the two camps pretty much resulted in a draw. Though he was the superior combatant by virtue of being a former Golden Gloves champ, the LOTD just didn't like violence. Nonetheless, you just knew the two lords were destined to meet and duke it out again some day because the island wasn't going to be big enough for both of them.
As almost anyone could have predicted, the LOTD's one-and-only eventually wore him down by holding out, and he finally popped "the question." The wedding plans were made, and the big day finally arrived. Following the ceremony and while entwined in a romantic, post-nuptial paus de deux preparatory to hitting the old marriage bed, the Gypsy made one final attempt to seduce the LOTD, but although tempted, he rejected her once and for all.
The clan put on a dance for the newlyweds for which each guest couple was outfitted in a different pastel color (the Gypsy was not invited to the festivities because her trademark red would clash with the color scheme). This high-stepping tour de force demonstrated not only that they had all been world dance champions, but they had pretty good taste in fashion as well. It was also very evident that any one of them could, and probably would, succeed the LOTD as clan leader, if he ever decided to retire some year around St. Patrick's Day.
Just as the LOTD and his new missus were embracing in their first romantic kiss as husband and wife, the Dark Lord and his cohorts showed up to spoil things yet again. Without a bodyguard in sight, the Dark Lord's warriors were able to pluck the LOTD right out of his true love's arms. They pinned his hands behind his back and (gasp) removed his Celtic belt, the one he won in 1975 at the World Irish Dance Championships. Well, I'll tell you, that will bring any hero to his knees. Without the strength imbued in him by his belt, the LOTD became as vulnerable as Samson with a haircut. The Dark Lord's men dragged him off wiggling and kicking to the top of their Dark Tower. The Dark Lord stood a sporting distance away and took aim preparatory to assassinating the LOTD with his gun-finger, which he loaded and cocked by revolving his body in a circle. He finally fired his finger, sending the LOTD up in a puff of smoke and down into a subterranean purgatory. The villains installed the LOTD's belt on their leader, and they marched off in a body, all pumped up.
No, No, No, the Little Spirit was not going to sit idly by and watch her hero banished forever. After all, if she had been mortal, she'd probably have tried to seduce him herself--and he'd repaired her wee flute. She pulled out a tincture of one of her patented magic formulas and tossed it into the air. Low and behold, the LOTD was resurrected, coming back all bare-chested and oily. His wedding day was spoiled; he had a migraine headache; and he was mad as hell. With little effort, he caught up with the Dark Lord, and they engaged in a mighty high-decibel battle of the taps. There was no question as to the outcome since everyone knows the LOTD can get in 28 taps per second (a Guinness record, I might add). Though hardly a punch was landed, the Dark Lord was dispatched for good from the vibration of the LOTD's taps alone.
Thus vanquished, the Dark Lord retreated from the island in a curragh and was last sighted heading for St. John's, Newfoundland, with a fair wind at his back. His warriors defected to the LOTD, laid claim to the few remaining vestal virgins, and prepared to settle down and learn their Gaelic numbers beginning with five. To celebrate his victory over the dark forces, the LOTD assembled his clan for a dance production number that was enough to bring down the house at a Buddhist monastery. The Lord bared his chest so everyone could see how fit he was for a guy of his age and to dare any of the young studs to challenge his leadership. He strutted in front of his troupe in a swashbuckling swagger that became one of his trademark moves and really turned on women.
Before they all tapped into the proverbial sunset, the Lord decided to take his troupe on a triumphal world tour that he named the LOTD after himself. (Of course, he couldn't fly on commercial airlines because his buns of steel always set off the airport metal detectors.) The Dark Lord, now rehabilitated, was invited to join the troupe in London, but he declined since he had just landed a big movie deal in Hollywood. The LOTD was so proud of the way he had choreographed his dancers in a single line that he learned to do the same thing with his fans to whom he graciously gave autographs. The LOTD troupe performed to the acclaim of the whole Western world, and the Lord changed his name to Michael Flatley so the media wouldn't think he was arrogant or anything.