Gary shuffled into the coffee shop, neon leg warmers peeking from his hoodie, clutching a boombox like it was a holy relic. The barista, Jordan, paused mid-sip of their oat milk latte. ‘You’re… late,’ they said, eyeing Gary’s attempt at the “Renegade” dance—a move that’d been dead since 2019. Gary twirled, accidentally knocking over a stack of mugs. ‘This is the *new* Renegade! It’s got a *flair*,’ he insisted, air-drumming to a beat only he could hear. The customers stared. A toddler in a unicorn onesie burst into tears. Jordan facepalmed. ‘Gary, that’s the *Macarena*. You’re 20 years out of style.’ Gary froze, mid-spin. ‘No! This is… this is the *cyberpunk* version! The *future*!’ He yanked open the boombox, unleashing a cacophony of 90s boy band hits. A man in a penguin suit started crying. ‘I miss the 90s,’ he wailed. Gary, now dancing with a mop, shouted, ‘You’re all just jealous of my *vintage* vibes!’ The barista surrendered, pulling out a phone. ‘This is going viral,’ they muttered, as Gary launched into a jazz-hands finale. The next day, #BlockbusterDad trended. Gary? He’d already moved on to mastering the *Cabbage Patch Kid* dance.
