One Mic

One Mic
Chapter 1

"Damn it, Kale!" Kale's father glared down at his son's report card.
"I'm doing my best," Kale replied calmly, unfazed.
"Bullshit!" screamed Mr. Jones. "It's all Ds and Fs!"
"Shut your mouth!" Kale yelled. "I bet you can't do half the crap we learn!"
"You're sixteen!" Kale's father screamed back. "I will not have you talk to me like that!"
"Fuck you!" Kale growled. "If you want me to get a qality education, let's move out of this fucking ghetto!"
With that, Kale stormed .out the soor and slammed it shut, walking out into the world of the Chicago ghetto. There was a rap battle tournament in an hour at the old, abandoned warehouse. Hell, it was the only thing Kale was good at. Rap battles, eating, and sleeping were his whole life. Kale started walking the two miles over to the warehouse in the brisk November air
Kale's arrived at the warehouse twenty minutes later.
"Yo, T-Bone," he called to the bouncer. "Register me for the tourney."
"What's your stage name?" T-Bone asked.
"Put me in as K-Jay," answered Kale as he walked away to the crowd.
10 minutes later, the DJ announced the beginning of the first round.
"Yo, I'm DeeJack!" hollered the DJ into the mic. "And I've got a great first matchup for y'all tonight! First up, we go K-Jay, the white boy, and your reigning champion! D-V-ous! You two get up here and duke it out!"
Kale stepped onstage, and D-V-ous followed suit.
"Call it, K-Jay," said DeeJack.
"Tails," replied Kale.
"It's tails," stated DeeJack. "K-Jay, you pick who goes first."
"I'll let this motherfucker start," said Kale.
"Ohhh!" went the whole crowd as D-V-ous grabbed the mic from DeeJack.
"Mic check! One, two! Do I sound okay?
Who cares? This cracker's getting old. Go play croquet.
You see, I throw away the egg yolks and eat these whites.
So watch out, bastard, this bitch bites.
This ghetto is no place for people of your color.
You'll get eaten for breakfast, lunch, and supper.
And your white ass better carry a glock,
'Cause I'll shoot your ass up if I see you on my block!"
The crowd cheered and D-V-ous passed the mic to Kale.
"Okay, okay!" said the DJ. "Next up, we got K-Jay!"
Kale began.
"Yeah, I'm white and I ain't got dirt on me,
But you ain't got dirt on me, so you can't say a word on me.
I'm Clyde and you're Bonnie
Yeah, like you just got fucked.
I'll your your ass over in my redneck pickup up truck.
Yeah, my neck is red. I'll flatten your ass with my old tractor.
But you ain't got no neck. You're spineless. Someone call a chiropractor!
You look all tough but you're an actor.
See this bitch? I'm Tommy and he's Pam.
I just fucking smacked her!
I'm coming out swinging like Muhammed Ali.
You can go the fuck home and play with your dollies.
You can never bring the heat, call a fucking snow plow.
I'm like motherfucking Nas. You can hate me now."
The crowd cheered even louder than when D-V-ous finished.
"Alright, alright!" called DeeJack. "I think it's obvious who's going on to the next round! Congratulatiosn to K-Jay!"
Sudden;y, Kale's phone rang. He went backstage to take the call.
"Yeah?"
"It's Aunt Dina," came the voice. It seemed as if she was sobbing.
"What's up?" Kale asked, worried. "Did Cousin Ray start drugs again?"
"Kale..." she sobbed. "Ray is dead."