The set went on for a couple more songs. Despite the relative airiness of Dirk's baggies, his reaction to ingrediant X made him feel as if he were enduring the world's worst wedgy. During the break between songs, Dirk complained into the mike "Could someone turn the heat up in here, or what?" and promptly dropped his pants, leaving him only in boxers with a cow jumping over the moon design. This time there were no complications. Again, Margie stepped into the spotlight. This time, to contrast with the speed with which Dirk shed his shorts, the stripper slowly wriggled out of her own cut offs, much to the delight of all the Y-chromasones in the building. Although she had not been planning on loosing her shorts, the leopard skin motif on her panties were more than appropriate for the occasion. Then Dirk counted in the last song of the set, which was "New Year's Day" by U-2. The song contained a long, drawn out instrumental interlude allowing for the band members of "solo". Margie's short bass solo came first, and it went as usual except that Dirk quietly shed his cow underwear and was jumping around on the stage like a sprinter preparing for his race, only au natural. It took time for the audience to notice, but once they did the men started chanting "Margie, Margie!" in an attempt to prompt the bassist to follow suit. Margie, being only a novice bassist, always hand her hands full just executing her short solo, and in her state of concentration did not notice Dirk's state of nature. At first she was elated that her solo seemed to be garnering such raves, but as she looked up at the end of her routine and noticed what Dirk had done, it dawned on her what was expected of her.
As Jive began his drum solo, Margie made up her mind what to do. Jive was aware of all that was transpiring, and when Margie made eye contact with him he switched from his usual wild Keith Moon-style chaos to a simple snare drum roll. Margie only planned to remove her bikini top, as that would be more than enough to steal the show from Dirk, but was determined to take her time in strip-tease fashion. She lowered her left shoulder strap, then put it back in place. Next, she did the same thing with the right strap. She strutted up and down the stage working the crowd. Dirk initially strummed tacit rhythms, then gradually worked in wailling harmonics and feedback as the solo baton passed from Jive to him. Meanwhile, Margie pulled back the cups of her top only to conceal herself behind her instrument. Finally, as both Jive and Dirk crescendo-ed into a frenzy, Margie faced Jive, removed her top, and tossed it over the drum kit onto Jive's head, where it remained draped. Bare back to the audience, Margie broke back into New Year's Eve's distinctive bassline. Dirk jumped back up on stage and approached the mike, although for dramatic effect he refrained from picking up the lyrics for several measures, during which time Margie remained with her back towards the audience, much to Jive's obvious delight. As Dirk did his best rendition of U-2 singer Bono's scream leading back into the lyrics, Margie turned around and the place erupted. It was a powerful part of a legitamately moving song anyway, but the particular events that transpired during the song created a rock star kind of excitement that the band had never yet experienced.
Nor would they ever again. For this particular evening, two bigwigs from Disney's Musical Operations Division were in the house to check up on how Loni was managing the night club, and were obviously displeased at "activities detrimental to Disney's family- oriented reputation." Battery Club's 15 minutes of fame were to last only 20 seconds. Suddenly, the power to the amps, the P.A. system, even the stage lights were cut. Jive, thinking it was simply a technical problem, kept up the beat with his drums until the D.J. finally cut in with the dance version of "Who Let the Dogs Out".
Dirk, however, immediately knew that there had been no mistake. He looked up and saw Loni heading towards him with Chris Mokihana, the club's burly, surly bouncer. While Dirk was a tae kwando blackbelt and more than able to defend himself with bare hands and bare feet, he did not want to tangle with Chris Mokihana in close quarters in the nude with both the management and the law on Chris' side. Dirk put down his guitar and looked around for his clothes. Jeepers! With the stage lights off, there was no way he could find them before Chris Mokihana closed in on him. He jumped off the stage and instinctively ran to the table at which just 45 minutes ago he had been conversing with Kim-Marie and the others. Ethyl, and especially Blanche, glared at Dirk as he approached, while Kim-Marie sat with her face buried in her hands and her hands buried in Roger's shoulder. However, Roger's eyes were a more than adequate surrogate window to Kim-Marie's soul, and Dirk realized that his lover felt more than just shocked and disappointed, but even betrayed.
Dirk could only pause for an instant, for Chris Mokihana was within ten feet of him. Dirk knew that there was no hope of making it through the front door, so bolted off towards the kitchen, in the hope that the back door was unlocked. As luck had it, the cook had left he door wide open in an effort to keep the kitchen from overheating. Dirk bounded out the door with the bouncer in hot pursuit. The fleet-footed guitarist ran in a counter-clockwise semi-circle around the building, widening the gap with his bulky pursuer. As soon as he reached the front of the building a group of teen age girls screamed with amused surprise and pointed at him. Fading into the crowd was not an option, not without any clothes, at least, and Dirk turned heel and raced down Kuhio Avenue. However, the streaking caucacian attracted far too much attention on the well-lit main drag, and Dirk decided to cast his luck with a dash down a side street towards the beach. If nothing else, the surf might hide his nakedness until things calmed down.
However, wouldn't you know it, there were two uniformed police officers sitting in a patrol car eating microwave burritos that they had just acquired from the local seven-eleven, and when they spotted Dirk they threw their car into gear and raced after him. Hearing the roar of the engine, Dirk looked over his shoulder to see the police car bearing down on him. He turned right down an alley, slicing open the ball of his foot on a shard of glass from a broken bottle. Ignoring the pain (as any true Dirk should) he ran to the end of the alley and somehow managed to scale a six-foot chain-link fence, ripping open another laceration on his thigh and buttocks as he swung his rear leg over the sharp pointed wire ends at the top of the fence. It took the police a few seconds to get out of the car and hop the fence themselves, during which time Dirk was able to get out of eyesight, turn a sharp corner, run through a couple of back yards, and hurdle over a lower fence right into the Alawai canal, where a splash finally absorbed his momentum and left him at long last at equilibrium.