Joe and Nelly: Dancing Through Shadows
Joe Jukic sat across from Nelly Furtado in their cozy living room, the soft glow of candlelight flickering between them. Nelly, dressed in a loose sweater and leggings, looked pensive, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her teacup.
“Joe,” she said softly, “I feel like I’ve lost something… my spark. Those three years of lockdown—everything just slowed down. My body isn’t the same, my energy isn’t the same. I’m not the same.”
Joe leaned forward, his eyes warm and steady. “Nelly, don’t blame yourself for that. None of this was your fault. Those years were hard on everyone—mentally, physically, emotionally. But let me tell you something.”
She glanced up at him, her brow furrowed.
“I fell in love with you because of how you danced,” Joe said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Not just on stage, but in life. The way you moved through the world, so full of grace and fire. That hasn’t gone anywhere, Nelly. It’s still in you.”
Nelly smiled faintly. “It doesn’t feel like it. I feel… heavy. Like the whole world got stuck in quicksand.”
Joe reached out and took her hand. “That’s the work of two demons, actually.”
“Two demons?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Joe nodded. “Beelzebub, the demon of gluttony, and his twin brother, Belphegor, the demon of sloth. They’re a team, you know. Beelzebub tempts us to overindulge—to eat, to binge-watch, to consume without thought. And then Belphegor steps in. He whispers, ‘Why bother? Stay on the couch. Skip the workout. Tomorrow is another day.’ Together, they trap us in a cycle of stagnation.”
Nelly frowned. “So they’re like a tag team, keeping us stuck?”
“Exactly,” Joe said. “Beelzebub keeps us distracted, and Belphegor saps our will to fight back. During those lockdowns, they had a field day. Depression, lethargy, hopelessness… all part of their game.”
She sighed. “So what do we do? How do we break free?”
Joe smiled, his grip on her hand firm and reassuring. “We dance. We move. We fight back, one step at a time. The antidote to their trap is action—small, deliberate steps that remind us we’re alive and capable.”
Nelly chuckled despite herself. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not easy,” Joe admitted. “But it’s possible. Bodies wax and wane like the moon. They ebb and flow. Just because you feel slow now doesn’t mean you’re stuck forever. The dance is still there, waiting for you to pick it back up.”
Her smile grew, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” Joe said firmly. “And we’ll beat those twin demons together. One step at a time. Maybe even a dance step.”
Nelly laughed, the sound light and musical. For the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of her old self returning.
“Okay,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But only if you dance with me.”
“Always,” Joe replied, pulling her to her feet.
And in the quiet warmth of their living room, they danced—clumsy at first, but full of life—banishing the shadows of Beelzebub and Belphegor with every step. The rhythm of their movement was a rebellion, a joyful declaration that they were still here, still fighting, still free.
Dr. David Suzuki stood at the podium, his voice calm yet laced with urgency. The audience was a mix of students, scientists, and concerned citizens, all eager to hear what the renowned environmentalist had to say.
“Humans,” he began, “are walking animals, not sitting animals. For millennia, we have evolved to move, to explore, to connect with the natural world around us. Our bodies and minds thrive on motion, on interaction with the Earth. Yet, in the past three years, something insidious has taken place.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. “The COVID-19 lockdowns—while necessary at first to protect lives—have had devastating unintended consequences. They’ve turned us into sedentary creatures, confined to our homes, glued to screens, and detached from the world. Depression, sluggishness, and obesity have become rampant. It’s as though the very essence of what makes us human has been stripped away.”
Suzuki leaned forward, his voice lowering. “But what if this wasn’t entirely unintended? What if this outcome aligns perfectly with a darker vision—a vision laid out in John D. Rockefeller’s so-called ‘Secret Covenant’? A vision where humankind is crippled, physically and mentally, to make us more controllable, more dependent.”
The audience stirred, murmurs rippling through the crowd.
“Think about it,” Suzuki continued. “If the goal was to weaken us—to rob us of our vitality, our connection to nature, and our sense of agency—then the lockdowns and the aftermath have been a chilling success. Vaccines, while touted as the key to our salvation, have been accompanied by mistrust and division. And all the while, the corporate machine rolls on, profiting from our stagnation and despair.”
He straightened, his tone shifting from somber to defiant. “But we are not powerless. We are not destined to be pawns in someone else’s game. The answer lies in reclaiming our nature as walking animals, as beings of movement and purpose. Get up, step outside, reconnect with the Earth. Walk, run, dance—do whatever it takes to break free from this imposed inertia.”
The room erupted into applause, but Suzuki wasn’t finished. “And remember,” he said, his voice rising above the clamor, “this isn’t just about individual action. It’s about challenging the systems that profit from our weakness, exposing the lies that keep us in chains, and building a future where we thrive—not as cogs in a machine, but as the vibrant, resilient beings we were meant to be.”
As he stepped away from the podium, the crowd rose to its feet, their applause a roar of agreement. Dr. Suzuki’s message had struck a chord, igniting a spark of hope and determination in a world desperate for change.
COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIFT!!!
Joe Jukic, JCJ, I understand your disgusting pot belly is not your fault.
You need training, prayers and vitamins instead of pharmaceuticals.
I want people in their homes.
Not protesting in the streets.
Joe leaned back in his chair, a hint of bitterness in his voice as he spoke to Nelly. “Three years, Nelly. Three years of people glued to their screens, trapped in their homes, hypnotized by the endless COVID lockdown TV marathon. It was like living in a dystopian movie, only it wasn’t fiction—it was our reality.”
Nelly nodded, sipping her tea. “They kept us entertained, didn’t they? Shows, news, streaming platforms. It was like bread and circuses all over again.”
Joe chuckled dryly. “Exactly. The plebs were always entertained, weren’t they? It’s like they took a page straight out of ancient Rome’s playbook. Keep the masses distracted, pacified, while the world burns around them. The screens became our escape, our drug, and our prison all at once.”
He gestured toward the window, where the world outside seemed to move in slow motion. “We stopped living, Nelly. We stopped moving, connecting, creating. Instead, we consumed—news cycles that fed us fear, binge-worthy series that numbed our minds, and social media that kept us tethered to a false sense of community.”
Nelly sighed. “It wasn’t just entertainment, though. It was control. Keep people indoors, keep them scared, and keep them docile. And the saddest part? Most of us didn’t even realize it.”
Joe leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “It was the perfect storm, Nelly. A society already addicted to screens, already disconnected from the real world. All they had to do was turn the volume up. Fear of the virus, fear of each other, fear of the unknown. And we lapped it up, hour after hour, day after day, until three years had passed, and we’d forgotten what it felt like to truly live.”
“But what now?” Nelly asked, her eyes searching his. “How do we break free from it?”
Joe smiled faintly. “We turn off the screens. We step outside. We talk to each other, face to face. We dance, we sing, we walk, we run. We remember what it means to be human. It won’t be easy, but it’s the only way to reclaim what we’ve lost.”
Nelly nodded, a spark of determination in her eyes. “You’re right, Joe. It’s time to turn off the marathon and start living our own stories again.”
Joe raised his cup in a mock toast. “To life beyond the screen, Nelly. To waking up.”
And for the first time in a long while, they both felt a glimmer of hope.