Small hours after midnight.

The local swing dance party was over. I still had the rhythm in my head and some electronic switches in my pocket that I got earlier for some project, while walking in the direction of my car.

It was a misty and dark night, since there was a power failure a couple of days ago, that still hadn’t been sorted. The street lights were out and only the moon was casting shadows of the old buildings on the street. There was a guy playing slow jazz on a saxophone, a couple of streets below, and a couple of streets above another one playing a trumpet. I didn’t know for whom they played, since nobody except me was there, but in the middle I could swear that they were playing to each other. The mood was stunning. Like a lucid dream.

I entered a small street while the distant jazz music was slowly fading.

I heard a squeak , turned, but there was nothing. Then, I heard an empty can drop and a windy whoosh noise. I got little nervous and started looking around, and yet again there was nothing, so I decided to continue walking. But then, in that moment, in front of me a man with a cape and a mask appeared, and by appeared I don’t mean that he walked or jumped towards me or something – he just materialized in a split second, like when a light bulb turns on, standing firmly and proudly. One side of his cape was slowly swinging, while he was covering his face just under the nose.
I knew instantly who he was, the mysterious Lindyhopoulos, I’ve seen him in the pictures and heard stories about him. Some say that he was a killer (on the dance floor), some say he was a hunter (who preyed on ladies’ hearts). But you know what, except for the mask, posture, and the cape, he was nothing like everybody was describing him, his nose was smaller, his hair was shorter and perfect in every way, and his mask was, well, utter garbage. I really need to say that a 4 year old child could have made a better mask… anyway, back to the story.

He started talking to me. Better yet, he directed a question to me in a deep, slow voice, while continuously holding (I would go so far as to say a barely visible) smuggish smile. “Are you the guy from Craftomoto that can make a bunch of custom stuff?”, he demanded to know.
My answer was a little unsure, but in the end I said: “Yes!”. He laughed loudly, the pigeons flew in the air, the scattered papers in the street and the pigeons’ feathers created a mist in the air behind him. Then he suddenly stopped laughing and continued in his silent, deep voice, as if he had never laughed: “I need a person that can make my super hero stuff. In return I will give you parts of the secret formula for a massive improvement in your dancing skills.” I said yes, but I don’t really think there was another option, as he seemed like someone who wasn’t used to hearing no. He handed me the list with the stuff he needed on a torn piece of paper, and a micro part of the dancing formula. Something banged behind me. I turned back for a second, and there was only a black cat chasing a mouse and kicking stuff around… when I turned back, he was gone.

A few days have passed since then, and I started doing the stuff from the list he gave me, but not too hasty, because I don’t want to mess up anything.

I stored the partial formula in my pocket for the time being. It just happened that I didn’t need to wait long before testing it. At the Saturday’s Swingtones party in Maribor, Slovenia, I was pushed into the Jack & Jill competition, and just a moment before the dance-off, I took out the partial formula and absorbed it’s knowledge… and the rest is history. You can watch it on Youtube.