Okay.

Let me get this straight - that's the rumor that's been floating around the past six-hundred-odd years? That we swoop in to maiden's rooms, strip down, and fuck? I mean... it's flattering. It's really flattering, and I guess I can see where you're coming from on that one. It takes some serious muscle to push a song in someone's head when they're sleeping, and all of the incubi (and succubi, too, come to think of it) I've known have been - what's the word these days? Ripped. And reasonably good-looking, too, if I do say so myself. But that's just... well, you try sitting around the Nether Realms for ages, with access to magic, and tell me that you wouldn't try to spruce yourself up a bit.

It's a hobby, y'know? Some people like model trains, some people collect stamps, some people experiment endlessly on the perfect thickness and curvature to produce peak pleasure performance. It's just a sideline thing, honestly.

It's hardly my job.

No, my job, contrary to what some bored fifteenth-century lass seems to have brewed up in between sessions with the broom with the right sort of knobbly bits, is music. The most infernal sort, too.

1613's hot single The Moft Venerable Waltz of Saint Vituf? That was my breakout single, actually. Hard work, though, breaking in to all sorts of homes and getting that dancing fever started. I did have to roll on a straw-stuffed mattress a couple of times, mind you, but that was an exception, I promise.

The whole baby-shark deal? That's me too, doo doo doo-doo.

The orgies were completely coincidental.

Anyway! Bit awkward having you waking up before I can get the tune in, really. Embarrassing, even, what with the rumors that've been going around. I can hold off on the song for now, I suppose, but you do seem a bit worked up. Far too much so to go to sleep.

Hrm.

Surely, I've got to find some way to tire you out, right?

Brought to you by a Wikipedia binge of dancing hysterias from the 14th through 17th centuries, and this noxiously catchy little masterpiece.

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