mobb blog log

electric word life, it means forever and that's a mighty long time, but i'm here to tell you there's something else...this blog.

June 7, 2014 3:56 pm

Jerrica Benton awoke to the sound of short waves breaking against smooth rocks on the Pier 6 Pavilion. She yawned and flounced her hair, balancing out the streams of Starburst and Carnation extensions tangled together after last night’s impromptu pillow fight with her bandmates; Kimber, Aja, and Rayna collectively known as, The Holograms. The day before, Jerrica as her alter ego, Jem, performed at the pavilion with her band and was now spending the weekend held up in the Ritz-Carlton Estates, occupying the penthouse condos previously inhabited by bestselling book writer, Tom Clancy.
Jerrica slinked out of the Queen sized bed careful not to disturb the other inhabitants; she stood in bay window overlooking the harbor replaying sections of last night’s show in her head. She was pleased with the laser and smoke filled spectacle and decided to reward herself with a bump of “Bolivian Marching Powder”. A small yet non-committal indulgence she picked up in Central America while fighting for the rights of migrant farmers and plantation worker in the Coca Fields of Ecuador.
Jerrica looked over at the bed intent on waking her posse to start the day and use her bump to its fullest advantage. However, the bed was empty. She checked the bedside alarm clock, it was noon, far later than she hoped but still enough time to get her life in the Charm City. She ruffled the sheets and thought to herself;
“They must have gotten up early and hit up Blue Moon for brunch. I hope they bring me back an order of Captain Crunch French Toast. I wonder if the French know about French Toast; Do the French get royalties every time someone says French Toast? Oh my God, Do I owe the French Money for saying French Toast a million times? O.k. if I stop saying French Toast now maybe my debt won’t be so high. Where are these bitches?”
Jerrica reached under the bed and pulled out a designer high heel shoe; from it, she retrieved a small Silver Star shaped earring. She pressed the amulet into her lobe and gave it a tug; a familiar cybernetic voice filled the palatial waterfront estate.
“Hello, Jerrica.”
“Hey, Synergy; incredible show last night, you almost surged the power grid, though. Be careful with your use of light balance next time, we almost left the city in complete darkness.”
“As if Baltimore isn’t already dark enough,” Bantered Synergy.
“Excuse me?” Jem perplexed.
“The temped climate change due to excessive humidity in the area causes an extended amount of overcast in the mid-Atlantic region thereby blocking out the sun throughout large portions of the day. What did you think I meant.”
“That, I thought you meant that, and I was right, because I’m good at Meteorology.”

“Jerrica, I’m afraid there has been a bit of a kerfuffle.”
“Yeah, I know, The Holograms rolled out and got brunch without me. Don’t these heifers know who they came here with? I mean I do two things when I’m out on tour; I shut down shows and I open up brunches, I mean I put the “B” in Bellini.
“My life is so odd right now and I guess that’s why I just can’t even.”
“Jerrica, I assure you, the holograms are not at brunch. They have been kidnapped by an unknown assailant and jettisoned off to Hunger Island as tribute to, Katniss Everdean.”
“What the flip?”
“She heard about the “Jem movie” and is intent on sabotaging the property. She plans on force feeding the girls and killing them with calories.”
“It’s just a movie we can all premier at the Cineplex and fill seats. Nothing wrong with little friendly competition.”
“That’s just it, Jerrica, Katniss mind has been so warped by the Hunger Games tributes that she now views any form of competition as a mortal threat. Anything she views as an impediment to her success, she must destroy.”
“Katniss Everdean must be stopped. I have to save my friends, but how am I supposed to save my girls without the help of my girls?”
“Not to worry, Jerrica, I’ve called in some backup to aid you on your mission.”
“Well don’t be shy, tell me who it is, ooh is it the Battle Beasts? Is it Action Man? He’s so macho. He makes my queso ooze.
“Actually, Jerrica, you’ll be receiving support from you old adversaries, The Misfits.”
“The Misfits, why them, they don’t have a horse in this race?”
“Actually, it was Roxy who proposed the team up; she’s still indebted to Ban-Nee for teaching her how to read. That and Stormer teamed up with your sister Kimber some time ago and released an album. Pitchfork gave it an 8 of 10.”
“I don’t read Pitchfork; the writing is a bit too bloated for my taste. They tend to write as if their review is far more important that its subject matter and that turns me off.”
“Jerrica, even the group’s leader, Pizzazz is committed to the cause. Although she doesn’t particularly care for you, she seems to harbor an even deeper animosity toward Katniss.”

“That’s all well and good, but I’m not sure I feel comfortable teaming up with the Misfits. They think their songs are better than mine.”
“Oh, Darling, Jem, their songs are better, but you are far more glamorous, and your glamour makes you; truly, truly, truly …OUTRAEGOUS!
“Now Jerrica you must morph into Jem, team up with the Misfits; fly to Hunger Island, and save your friends from Trans fatty fatality. Are you ready?”
“Send all my calls direct to voice mail, I gotta go rescue my bitches.”
Jerrica gives her amulet another brisk swipe, her body emits pulsing neon light as luminous as a quasar erupting in the Milky Way Pavilion. With her new formed alliance she is Jem and the Misfits, and on this day they will; Taste the Hunger.
“I wonder if Eric has anything to do with this; he could be the unknown assailant. He’s always involved in some crazy scheme to sabotage me off the board and steal my half of the Starlight Music Company. I don’t know why he wants this company so bad he doesn’t know anything about music. I guess that doesn’t make him any different than any other music exec.”
Jem snickers to herself and rubs her pointer finger across the glass dinner table, and inspects the tiny pearl flakes stuck to her finger tip.
“No blow left behind.”
She wipes the residue across her gums in anticipation of the Misfits arrival. The penthouse elevator chimes the doors open and out spill its contents; Roxy (Guitar), Jetta (Sax), Stormer (Keytar), and Pizzazz (lead vocals).
“Hi girls,”
“Don’t say hi to me, Say thank you,” Sneered Pizzazz, the group’s leader and Jem’s mortal adversary.
“Thank you”
“You got us a lift out to Hunger Island, or do you need us to hold your hand through that too?”
Synergy interjects. “G.I. Joe Staff Sargent Roadblock is gonna give you an airlift in the Eagle Hawk Helicopter. He’s on the roof now.”
“Wait, let me grab my sunglasses.”
“You won’t need sun glasses when you travel with me, because Pizzazz brings plenty shade.”
“O.k. well I definitely need to find my phone so I can live tweet what you just said.”
“Status updated,” intoned Synergy.
The girls ascend the elevator to the roof and are greeted by the decorated officer award winning chef and all around jovial guy:
“Roadblock is here and it’s clear to see/ that you need a ride so come along with me/ Put on your seat belt and your parachute/ but you don’t need to wear a helmet cause your hair looks cute/ don’t be a litter bug, girls/ knowledge!
“And knowing is half the battle,” Cheered Stormer.
The girls all took a Xanax and pretty much slept through the 8 hour helicopter ride to Hunger Island. They conveniently awoke within a two minute eta, enough time to receive landing instructions from Roadblock;
Use your parachutes to land after the ride/ when your boots hit the ground you’ll meet your guide/ Good luck on your journey, I’m sure you’ll win/ I hope to see you again/ before we get to Heaven/ I’m a Lutheran ya’ll/ Faith!

The girls floated safely to the ground nestled in a redolent tropical field of lush island frutex. They dumped their shoots, teased their hair, took a few selfies and updated their Instagram accounts. “Made it to the Island in one piece”: Hash Tag;
• blessed
• free rap concert
• free the holograms
• roadblock raps like them old heads from the70’s
• can’t even believe this island has Wi-Fi
• if there’s a Starbucks on this island im staying
• My stage name is Pizzazz but My Street Name Is Rohypnol Cause I Stay Knocking Dumb Hoes Out and Fuckin they ass up.
• No homo.
• I wonder if this island breeds small dogs
As the girls tuck their phones away and begin their trek, a soft glow of light beams through the tree tops, intercepting the girls’ slow procession.
“Hello, Ladies, I’m actor, writer, director, and now temporal tropical tour guide, Phillip Seymour Hoffman.”
“I’m here to guide you, because im featured in the Hunger Games trilogy, so I’m quite familiar with the terrain, and I’m also a blue chip actor usually employed to give mediocre storylines artistic credibility, like the Film, Almost Famous, and the story you’re in right now.
“Phillip Seymour Hoffman, you dead right?” asked Jetta.
“Yes. I am dead.”
“Yeah, I read about you, because I recently learned how to read. They found you in an apartment in Tribeca, right?” quizzes Roxy.
“No, it was Chelsea.” Hoffman stated ruefully
“You were surrounded by what, like, 50 bags of dope, some shit like that?”
“Well, yeah something like that,” he stumbles over his words foolishly.
“’50 bags of heroine is a lot of fuckin dope, you buy your shit from Sam’s Club or something?”
“Did you think they was gonna stop making dope after they sold you yours.”
“Did your dope dealer not have change for a 1000 dollar bill so you just bought it all?”
“Alright I get it, I bought too much dope, and obviously I did, because I’m dead now. O.k.? So can we just move on and get this over with please? I’m trying to help you save your friends life!”
“I appreciate all the help and everything Phil, I really do, but I just don’t see myself following a fucking junkie through a jungle. Oliver Stone wrote three movie about that shit and none of them end well so I’m gonna respectfully request that you jump back in whatever shallow grave you hopped your pale ass out of cause Pizazz can’t fuck with you, I loved you in Capote, though. Keep your ass moving on through to that other side, baby boy. “
“Oh, my God Pizzazz, he was our only way around the Island, Why did you run him off like that?”
“I mean we don’t have a map or anything, we gonna die on this Island like those kids in that book I was supposed to read in middle school, but I didn’t cause I was still illiterate back then” whined Roxy.
“That fat jerk was gonna sell us into white slavery the first chance he got. Besides we don’t need no week man telling us where to go and what to do. Shit the island has Wi-Fi. Just pull out your phone go to the google home screen the nearest me browser is gonna pop up. In that search bar put in kidnapping. And boom three kilometers that way.
Just then a camouflage Jeep crashes furiously through the bush. The driver adorned with long blond silky trestles’ flowing downs his back and across his German issue naval officer blouse hops rapaciously from the driver’s seat and advances on the girls.
“Need a lift old friend?”
“Riot?” Jem says pensively.
“Jem is it?” Riot says casually.
“It is,” she says with obviously inflection.
“Or is it Jerrica?” He says haughtily; as he laughs with arrogant conviction.
A collective gasp falls over the cluster of girls. Jem is caught off guard and before she has time to deny the claim her face tells a truth her words could no longer hide.
“But how,” she asks still shell shocked.
I’ve always known who you were Jerrica. Many years ago when you were just a little girl I knew your father. We were inventers and visionaries. We partnered up and created the Synergy technology together. It took many years to complete and during that time I became close to you and your father, you in particular, Jerrica. I took you to the park, I taught you how to ride a bike I helped you with your schoolwork. As you got older my feelings matured into something deeper, more complex, something I could not quite process. At the same time my feeling for you were maturing the Synergy project was also coming to fruition. I was proud of the project and I wanted to share it with the world. The advancements were unlimited, but you father had other plans. He wanted to keep the project secret and use it for more ethical practices whereas I wanted to mine it for its commercial value. We were at an impasse and instead of fighting I left with my half of the research. I kept the telecommunication half and he kept the light manipulation half.
“Wendell Wasserman, my dad’s doting assistant, I remember you. You were a kind man, leery, but sweet. You just up and disappeared when I was 14. What happened to you?”
I moved back to Austria, sold my half of the Synergy technology to a Japanese mobile communication firm. I got a facelift. I changed my name; started a glam rock band-Pink Lipstick. We had an international top ten hit. Maybe you’ve heard of it…”Walk you home from school”
“Walk you home from School, I remember that song. She recites a few bars…
I watched you grow up as a baby in your father’s arms
Then you grew into a lady and fell under my charms
I want to fall into you when I
Walk you home from school
“Oh my god was that song about me?”
“Yes Jerrica, It was about you, it was always about you. I moved back; started a new band-The Stingers, I even grew this luxurious flaxen mane and still you rebuff me at every turn. Well the honeymoon is over baby! I want that Synergy technology and I want it now or you and you friends will die.
Just then a righteous arrow pierces the sky. And lands square in the heart of Riot.
“Oh shit, I got blood in my succulent hair, and I think I’m dying…nope…I’m dead, yeah, I’m definitely dead. “
“Katniss Everdean” I presume. Hissed Pizzazz.
“Was it the bow and the arrow that gave me away?”
“I only asked because I could not tell you in person from your movie posters, they make you appear much more, slender, than you really are. I was worried about your health. It’s such a relief to see, in abundance, that your thighs really, do touch.”
“Yes, they do, just like my two, Golden Globes.”
“Ah, Miss Everdean are you gonna force feed us a ton of carbs? I really don’t want to fuck my diet up.” Stormer asked.
“Ah, no that was all that twisted pedophile, Riots plan, he kidnapped me too. He didn’t try anything too direct just a lot of foot baths, finger and toe nail polishing, and he brushed my hair three times a day. When he saw you all flying in he dashed out here and that’s when a nest of Mocking Jays came and loosened me from my bindings. I followed Riot here, and well you saw the rest. Hey you guys wanna watch My Little Pony Friendship is Magic?”
“There’s cable and internet on this Island too?!?” squealed Jetta, because it’s been a while since she had a line.
“No, well yeah, but, Riot also kidnapped The My Little Pony crew. They’re outback with the Holograms frolicking in a waterfall made of rainbow sprinkles. “
“Oh, my god he was gonna make the girls eat the My Little Ponies, gross.” Conjectured Stormer.
“Guy’s I’m sorry I never told you all that I’m both Jem and Jerrica”
Pizzazz, finger combed her hair, briskly turning a side eye glance to her arch rival and smirked. “Bitch, we knew.”

The End.
Jem and the Misfits
“Taste the Hunger”
Written By
Mike Smith

April 21, 2014 1:20 am
April 3, 2014 12:20 pm

Lester and Silk roll cigarettes, talk about  basketball team names, a weird dating ritual. Text messaging. voice mail. internet porn. Amy Grant. wrist watches. all in ten minutes. 

March 17, 2014 4:00 pm

Destiny’s child vs. the wu tag clan (fan fiction)

Its been ten years since the release of Destiny’s Child farewell album; Destiny Fulfilled. To celebrate the anniversary, Sony Records booked a concert at the Barclay Center in Brooklyn, New York to celebrate the milestone. The girls, Michelle, Kelly, and Beyonce had not performed with each other since the Super Bowl 47 Half time show in 2013 Where the Ravens beat the 49ers. Kelly was building an international fan base with her dance club vibe. Beyonce just shocked the world with a self financed secretly released visual album and Michelle just got her eyebrows waxed at the mall. The ladies were picked up from their hotel in Williamsburg and shuttled over to the arena, by limo, early in the morning.

Their liaison, Eduardo De La Mucho, met the trio and scuttled them through the parking lot into the back entrance past an already burgeoning crowd of fans camping out in tents, sleeping bags, and trailers all decorated with images of the girls singing and whirling amiss airbrush images of the Milky Way. Although, the girls were inconspicuously dressed in trench coats, dark shoes and a vail of nondescript ball caps; they failed to allude their voracious fans, yelling and jockeying for their attention: “Kelly, I love you girl, keep repping for us co-co skin sistas, girl!” “Bey!! Bey!! Bey!! I love you Bae!!” Oh girl I wish I was you girl, I do, cept, I wouldn’t be with no damn Jay-Z, doe, girl! I know he got all the money but I couldn’t, with his camel lookin’ ass!! “Blue Ivy cute and all, but bestiality is a crime against God and nature, girl!” “Michelle…Michelle… it’s me yo cousin Sweet Meat, your mother said give her a call, your half of the cell phone bill is due. She said,If you ain’t wanna do your part, you shouldn’t have signed up for the framily plan, Michelle.”

Once inside they meet up with their celebrity Manager, Nigel Cumberbatch, E! corespondent and first cousin of actor Benedict Cumberbatch.

"Hello, Nigel, you look marvelous, darling." purred Michelle.

"That’s because I’m looking at you, love." 

They embrace and share a friendly kiss on both cheeks.

"A little sugar with my mocha always gets me up in the morning, love."

"Oh, stop it."

I can’t, love, you’ve already got me started.”

"Why are you here so early? you’re not due in until this afternoon for sound check.:" asked a quizzical Beyonce.

"I had an interview for the network  with the cast of "Real Housewives of Rikers Island. Since i’m in the neighborhood why not stop by."

"Who knew a show about prison man-wives would be so incredibly popular?" said Michelle. 

"Yes, well you take the momentum of the Real housewives brand, everyone’s obsession with queer culture, and mix it up with the urban grittiness of prison life and you’ve got a ratings juggernaut. This show is literally too gay to fail."  Nigel said with a wry smirk. 

"Speaking of…" free falling into cursory though.

"Where is MY personal assistant? He was supposed to come in early this morning and set up your dressing rooms.

I’ve been texting him since six to no avail.” said the liaison, who up until this point had been quietly busying himself updating the Destiny Child website. Actually, that’s what he was supposed to be doing. He’d finished all of that an hour ago. At this point he was trolling Tinder and Grinder for any hot clerks around the arena who may be cleaning out the bathrooms or working the hot dog stand.  

"So who decorated the dressing rooms?" asked Nigel 

"I did," cheered Michelle. 

"Shelly, You didn’t have to do this." said Beyonce, nonplussed. 

"Just happy to help, guys." 

"That’s peculiar, I just spoke with Kevin last night. Everything seemed fine. I hope nothing happened to him." Stated Nigel with model concern.

"Kel-vin’s a really sweet guy." said Michelle, exerting extra effort on the "elvin" in a subtle attempt to correct Nigel on his mispronunciation of the interns name.    

"Yes," replied Nigel picking up the clue. 

"Kelvin, stopped taking his Wellbutrin ever since he didn’t get that callback for the live action Jem and the Holograms movie, Truly Outrageous. Very dissonant murmurs of suicide,and not Facebook suicide, real life suicide."

"I’m sure it will work out. Things always work out; at least for me they do." reasoned Beyonce 

"Do you like the wall draping Bey?" Asked Michelle 

"I got them in Beijing. They’re fresh spun silk from virgin worms. The color is called Red Velvet."

"Like the cake?" asked Beyonce.

"Just like the cake." answered Michelle.

"Lets blow out these $5,000, diamond studded, champagne scented candles and adjourn to the stage." Nigel blows out one and speaks before whistling out the other Luxury Soy Candle. 

"Let’s save the fire for the stage, shall we?"

The girls traverse the corridor and Kelly lets loose a sly chortle. 

"Hey guys, you ever see that movie "This is Spinal Tap? It used to come on t.v. all the time."

"I don’t own a t.v." Sulked Michelle. 

"I own a t.v.,I mean I own like ten of them, but I’m so busy being on t.v. that I guess i really don’t have time to watch t.v." said Beyonce

"Why do you ask?" 

"There’s this scene where the band is trying to get to the stage but they keep getting lost, in like, a labyrinth of corridors. It’s hilarious" Kelly said with glee.

"Getting lost isn’t funny." Warned Beyonce

"Getting lost is scary." Said Michelle with a passive whine. 

The girls took position and the sound engineer qued the instrumental track for the albums biggest hit; “Lose My Breath”. 

Practice plodded on for an hour and it was clear the girls were out of sync since the year and some change they performed on that triumphant day the Baltimore Ravens won the shit out of Super Bowl 47.

"Alright darlings," cringed Nigel. "this officially an Asian car crash. Let’s take a ten and regroup, yes?" 

"I’ll make a coffee run. What do you want?" asked Eduardo.

"I’ll have a grande black tea with lemon and honey." said Michelle.

"I’ll have a vente soy half calf latte; one Splenda. beckoned  Beyonce.

"I want a low-fat caramel Macchiatto, extra caramel." replied Kelly with precocious joy. 

Nigel glared at Kelly with noted incredulity. 

"What?!? I’m making up for the extra caramel by getting low fat milk! balked Kelly. 

Nigel exhaled dramatically, raised his trademark eyebrow, and crossed his arms in protest.

"Fine, the regular amount of caramel." she responded with a pout.

Nigel frowned and nodded in continued discontent. 

"No caramel?!"

Nigel smiled tightly and nodded in approval. 

"Fine," Kelly snapped back and smirked.

"But, after the show, I’m gonna have a caramel AND a Vanilla cappuccino. 

Suddenly the overhead lights shut off leaving the girls awash in darkness. The shrieking sound of maniacal screams echoed through the arena. 

As quickly as the lights wiped out; the overhead spot pierced through the sheet of onyx to reveal an upstage silhouette creeping through the shadows.   

"Help!" shrieked Michelle, reduced to tears; cradling herself on the floor. "I’ve been molested." she babbled. 

"Look!" squawked Beyonce. "There’s a mysterious silhouette lurking in the shadows!"

"Let’s get him!" Nigel rallied Eduardo; they ran to apprehend the mysterious figure.   

Eduardo and Nigel cornered and captured what appeared to be the Brooklyn Nets mascot, The Brooklyn Knight. 

"Is that the Brooklyn Nets mascot, the Brooklyn Knight?" queried Kelly.

"Yes.It is." Answered Eduardo, frankly.    

"See?"Eduardo blithely snatched the head off the anonymous violator and turned to face the appalled crowd. "It’s a mask"

Kelly interjected. 

"Look guys!" she directed everyone’s attention to the unmasked marauder. 

"It’s Papa Knowles"

"Daddy!" Beyonce said shocked and repulsed. 

"Why are you dressed up as the Brooklyn Knight, and why are you molesting people?" she asked puzzled and disgusted. 

Papa Knowles lifted his head crowned in shame. He blathered. 

"I’m sorry girls, I didn’t mean to scare ya’ll and fondle Michelle. I just like to show up to ya’ll shows and push Michelle. It’s how I get my jollies these days." 

"See, I told you all I was pushed at the Super Bowl." said Michelle defensively. 

"I really didn’t want to touch you in your nether regions Michelle, I just got disassembled in the darkness." He whimpered. 

"So it wasn’t you who cut the lights off, Daddy"

"No It was not,Bey. Now I really should go because this is more embarrassing than that time I got caught impregnating another woman while still being married to your mother. Can I be your manager again Bey?" 

"No, daddy."

"Well can you call me a cab?"

Just then the lights went black again and a tremulous baritone polluted the stage. When the lights came to, Papa Knowles lay slain in Nigel’s arms. 

"Oh, my gawd, he’s, he’s, he’s dead!" 

Oddly, the women bellowed this refrain in perfect three part harmony. 

Before the women had a chance to mourn their former mentor, a thick tide of smoke came pouring out from the audience. Beyonce noted the pungent aroma. 

"It smells like burning pine needles." Said Beyonce.

"It smells like Snoop Dogg’s dressing room. Said Kelly.

"It smells like the BET Awards" Said Nigel.

"It smell like weed." said Eduardo.

"Bong, Bong, my luscious song birds, what it do beautiful?"

crooned method Man. 

"Oh my goodness, It’s the Wu-Tang Clan!" said Michelle. 

All eight remaining members stood arms akimbo, blunts in mouth, side by side, triumphantly. 

"What are you guys doing here?" 

"We were in town shooting a new Tyler Perry movie," intoned a severely herbalized Raekwon.

 ”Medea Joins the Wu-Tang Clan.” Howled a blazed out Ghostface Killa. 

"Yeah we got a summons on a terrestrial plane that your chi was being disrupted, so we teleported over here to to dissect the math, my queen." 

"See that’s why you my favorite Rza, cause everything you say is confusing, but it sounds lyrical, so it must be poetry." said Kelly, coquettishly.  

"Well we have a show tonight and I shouldn’t have to perform under these conditions. I’m light skinned; I woke up like this." Petitioned Beyonce.

"My experience as an Inspector has taught me that the best way to apprehend a culprit is to divide into groups and explore the area in quadrants, that way we cover the most amount of ground in a shorter amount of time." Theorized the Rebel INS a.k.a. Inspeckta Deck."

"Are you really even an actual inspector, like my first cousin Benedict Cumberbatch, star of the British series, Sherlock?" 

"No, but I’ve seen all the Scooby Doo mysteries."

"How about the Shaggy Doo spin off?"

"Those too."

"Alright people, listen to this man!" 

The Inspeckta divided everyone into clusters and assigned them to different sections of the Barclay Center. They all splintered off and left Papa Knowles festering on the stage in a puddle of his own blood and guts. Eventually morphing into twinkling embers and ascending into the rafters.

Although everyone was supposed to  be hunting down the cloaked culprit, mainly they all just got high and passed out by the concession stand. Beyonce woke up separated from her group and worried the solitude would mark her as easy prey. She trundled the hollow corridor in search of her musical companions. She pressed past a set of doors and tripped over a prop surfboard. When she regained her footing she stood up and locked eyes with:

"Ol’ Dirty Bastard!!"

"How do you do, Miss Beyonce?"

"Oh, shit, ODB, What are you doing here?"

"Oh you know what this is.We in Brooklyn, I’m from Brooklyn, even in death I muthafuckin rep Brooklyn to the fullest!!"

"Are you the one that’s sabotaging our show and killed my daddy?"

"I don’t even understand what you is asking me right now, and what is you doing wit dat surfboard?"

"Yonce blushed and dropped the surfboard. The blunt thud temporarily ceased the awkward silence and offered a chance for Yonce to recover.

"Would you be interested in performing a guest verse during our show tonight?"

 ”But I’ma ghost. How is you gonna pass some shit like that off to the crowd?”

"We’ll tell everyone you’re a hologram, like they did with 2 Pac at  Coachella."

"Yeah, Baby, I’m wit it, but I’m a spirit trapped in the astral plane. In order to cross over to the lucid world I must leave your cerebrum and enter through your body."

"O.k….Wait. Enter my body; is this ghost sex?"

"No! My inserting myself in your scrumptious body has nothing at all to do with sex."

"O.k.,Well I guess it’s O.K. then."

Beyonce takes the ODB into her body and his aura causes her body to rupture and shake.  

As her body continues to tremble she feels a firm grip on her shoulders rattling her back to consciousness. 

"Bey, It’s like ten minutes to curtain. Are you o.k. to perform?

Beyonce took a second to consider if what just conspired actually happened or if it was just a by product of too much Loud. 

The curtain rose to thunderous applause as the overhead announcer introduced the sensual sirens of R&B. 

"Ladies and gentlemen I’d like to introduce ya’ll to a very special and unexpected guest…" 

The crowds excitement could barely be contained the volume  threatening to reduce the Barkley Center to rubble.

 The uproar bled beyond the building, pouring out into the parking lot causing cars and their alarms to rattle and hum. Among the parked vehicles sat a late model yellow checker cab with its wheel man standing astride the driver side door frame. He wore a tattered army jacket, dark aviator sunglasses, and his hair was cut into a Mohawk. It was ancillary Wu-Tang Clan member Cappadonna . He waived his arm in the air and a giant blunt shot from his sleeve. He lit the “L” and inhaled deeply. He moved to the trunk of the cab and opened it up. Kelvin was hog tied and crying on top of a spare tire. Cappuccino, as he was sometimes known, blew second hand blunt smoke into Kelvins face and slammed the trunk. He jumped back into the drivers seat and took another pull of the blunt before turning on the ignition and driving off into the twilight. 


March 7, 2014 10:43 pm

mea culpa by mike smith

I heard you got yourself a new man,
and living in a cabin
upstate in the woods.
You always hated the smog of the city,baby.
I hope the fresh air is treating you good.

March 4, 2014 9:57 pm

Do what thou wilt by: Mike Smith

She always peeling my scabs for blood 

shes always testing me to see what im scared of 

she don’t believe in God

she’s always on her knees but 

she’s not praying to me 

I saw her lurk in the dark 

she’s got a sample of 

my specimen in his and her dolls

She wears a mask like Norma Jean

She sleeps with one eye open and she keeps it on me

She’s Madonna post 1993

She’s a scene

She thinks she’s Alister Crowley

She’s reality T.V.

She howls during sex

She talks with an S

She’s my Queen

So if you see me in a graveyard mumbling a poem

by a bard back from 1719

just recognize it’s not me

i’m possessed by my bitch 

oh my Lord

She worships Satan   

February 12, 2014 12:19 pm

it’s gotta be close to midnight (a short play)

a disheveled man(man1) stands on a bus stop nodding back and forth. Another man(man2) walks up, he appears fastidious and direct.

Man1: Hey man what time is it; what time you got?

Man2: (doesn’t look at a watch) It’s almost midnight.

Man1: Really! Is it?

Man2: It is.

Man1: I thought it was like 7, maybe 8, 8 o’clock. Something like that.

Man2: It is midnight.

Man1: So is it midnight or is it almost midnight?

Man2: When you first asked it was almost midnight. Since you asked it is now midnight.

Man1: Oh, o.k.; see I’m not even sure you not fuckin’ wit me right now brugh cause when I asked, you said it was almost midnight and now you saying it is midnight, but see you aint never looked at cho watch once. So how I know you even know what you talking bout when you tell me you know what the fuck time it is? You aint even utilizing the proper point of references and shit brugh.

Man2: Look sir, I don’t want any trouble, o.k.?

Man1: I don’t want no trouble either. I just want to know if it’s almost midnight, midnight, or 8 o’clock. gotdamn it.

Man2: If the time is so important to you why don’t you have your own watch?

Man1: Cause maybe I do have a watch and it’s broken, maybe I left my watch at the crib. Maybe I gave my watch to someone less fortunate. You don’t know me.

Man2: You’re right. I don’t. Well I didn’t now I fell like I do. Kind of wish I didn’t though.

Man1: Can you just. If you have a watch or a phone with a clock. Tell me what the actual time is, please?

Man2: (pulls out a cell phone) It’s one minute after twelve.

Man1: 12:01?

Man2: 12:01.

Man1: 12:01. See i’ma stop talking to you cause you don’t know what the hell you talking about, brugh.

Man2: Thank You.

February 4, 2014 4:58 pm 4:06 pm
January 19, 2014 9:35 pm

Was thinking of this commercial all day yesterday. Which is odd because i never thought of this product at all before Saturday.  Does anyone remember this?