I did try and get you here, didn't I?

"The problem with looking ridiculously amazing all the time is that the clothes that make you look ridiculously amazing quickly become dirty. Especially when you find yourself in the desert." Said Friday to the gathered weekdays. The Five were all in dark suits, looking like gangsters in a Tarentino film. They of course were on hard-pan desert, and sweating buckets under felt fedora hats. The sun beat down unmercifully.

"Yeah." Replied Thursday, "Hard enough to actually find amazing clothes, but then there's the investment of time and money to keep them clean." He made an awkward face as he looked down to his 700 dollar Steve Madden shoes that were so covered in dust, it was nearly impossible to tell when the shoes stopped and the desert began.

"Sort of a, 'desert business casual,' would have been more appropriate for the invite, methinks." Said Tuesday, taking off his jacket and throwing it over his shoulder. "I've got a few things feeling neglected in the 'ole wardrobe that would've fit that bill." He looked off sadly towards the horizon that danced with heated air into a crazy mirage of reflected water. There was nothing else to be seen in any direction.

"C'mon guys!" Wednesday said sarcastically, wiping his sweating brow with a silk handkerchief pulled from his jacket. "Fresh air, sunlight, the great outdoors! People take vacations for this shit! It's great here!" As he spoke he found a dusty rock, and promptly dropped himself upon it. "Yeesh," he said, wondering when his hump was going to begin sweating through his jacket...he figured it couldn't be more than a few more minutes.

"This is the right spot, yeah?" Monday said, pulling out a small GPS device. "Yep, this is the spot. Are we on synchronized time? I gots 5:07." The other weekdays looked at phones or watches and nodded in various ways their agreement. "Well," He said after this acknowledgment, "Fuck."

"Yeah." Said Tuesday, "I'm getting the feeling that we might have been set-up."

Then a droning hum came to their ears, and a cooling shadow crossed over the sun, causing their eyes to be drawn skyward. Against which and straining against the sun, they were able to make out the silhouette. A huge pair of Zeppelins glided slowly against the sky, between them, like a catamaran, was a platform that linked the two dirigibles together. From there, a smaller, stranger shadow emerged, falling towards them. It was a small square or rectangle, but the nature of what it might be was only apparent when it had stopped moving and hovered two feet off the ground.
A Persian rug hovered there, controlled by a typically dressed British Butler. He looked expectantly at them, but seeing only confusion, broke the silence with a suitably toned voice of both deference and sarcasm.
"I don't have to explain I am to take you to the ball, do I?"

"Of course not my good man!" Said Friday, leaping onto the flying carpet. The other weekdays were quick to follow his lead, and in a moment were all hovering just above the ground.

"Excellent!" The Butler-esqe man said, and by some unknown means caused the carpet to rise rapidly upwards towards the Zeppelin-catamaran, "I'm sure the Sultan will be most pleased," He continued speaking louder to overcome the rushing air past their ears. "That you have taken the efforts you have to attend!"

In a brief moment, that caused numerous hands to be whitened with the speed of the ascent, they hovered on the Persian rug 10,000 feet in the air, yet only two feet over a gigantic wooden dance floor. Upon which were numerous couples dancing in amazingly fine attire, to a full orchestra playing a waltz. The Butler waved his hand out in a sweeping gesture two his right.

"There are valets and groomsmen there who will rapidly remove any stain of your travels, and assure you have everything you require for the rest of the evening!"

He pointed out a series of leather chairs with chrome arm and foot-rests, attended by a literal army of experts. They began to dismount from the flying carpet, and moved themselves into positions of repose upon them.

In a short a time of a hand-clap, the five were quickly overwhelmed by men who busied themselves removing every trace of grime from their shoes, hats, trousers, jackets, ties, and even handkerchiefs.

"I must say," Said Thursday watching the grime be removed from his garments, and as two men rapidly polished his shoes, "That this worked out better than I had hoped."

"Yeah!" Said Tuesday, undergoing the same treatment, "If only this dance wasn't a waltz, I might be overwhelmed."

And if on a cue, the band stopped playing the waltz, and the dancers clapped in appreciation. Then a clarinet player appeared, and quietly tapped a baton on a sheet-music stand. Then from out of nowhere a drummer began the opening beats of Benny Goodman's Sing Sing Sing began.

"Oh, shit." Said Tuesday, "This is gonna be cool..."

"Well," Friday concluded by standing up and grabbing his jacket from a valet, and throwing it on. "I did try and get you all here, didn't I?"


Happy Friday!