One Mic

One Mic
Chapter 2

"I'll rap for him," Kale pocketed his Samsung Evergreen phone as a tear slid down his face and droped onto the floor like a light drizzle. Cousin Ray was adopted. You could tell because he was black. But Ray and Kale were like brothers. THey were so close that Ray entrusted his son to Kale for when he was deceased. Kale was once a godfather. He was now the father of a four-year-old boy.
Kale listened as the last two rappers of the first round finished.
"Yo, yo!" called DeeJack. "Calm down, y'all. To get y'all started for round two, we've got K-Jay and Krafty Mac! Get your asses on this stage!"
Kale and Krafty Mac both stepped onstage.
"Krafty, call it," commanded DeeJack.
"Tails," rumbled Krafty Mac in a deep voice.
"It's heads," said DeeJack. "K-Jay, who goes first."
"Him," Kale motioned toward Krafty Mac.
"Alright! Krafty, take this mic!" said DeeJack.
Krafty grabbed the microphone from DeeJack's outstretched hand.
"Yo, this guy is white, how's he supposed to rap? Vocaloid?
I'mma knock you off your redneck horse, rodeo boy!
This cowboy's got nerve coming to this rodeo.
Got the crowd looking like they've been ripped off by Oreo.
Now, tell me, partner. Why is your face puffed up?
You been crying, or did you talk smack and get your face fucked up?
You think you got a chance? This ain't no 8 Mile story.
You're getting old. Go watch Maury."
The crowd cheered hysterically at the last line.
"Okay, okay!" called DeeJack. "Settle down. K-Jay, your turn."
Kale grabbed the mic from Krafty Mac.
"Yo, so what? I'm white as a fucking vanilla wafer?
You better stay away from white boy. You'll be a shit load safer.
Your girl, I could rape her.
And she'd like it. That's the caper.
You better get some pens and paper.
And write your shit beforehand.
'Cause when you grab that mic and spit freestyle shit,
That roof ain't raised by your hand.
Quit rap, you suck, be a fucking doorman.
'Cause your dick's too fucking tiny to make it as a whore man.
Go work in a store, man.
You ain't winning any money tonight.
You can't say shit about my virgin flow.
What I mean is that it's too tight!
I never break for air, and bitch, I got you scared.
You wouldn't bust a berry in a fuit fright.
I think I'm done.
You've been raped by puns.
Let me go all barber shop and say,
It's over, hun."
The crowd roared like two hundred caged lions. Kale was done crying. There was nothing left on his mind but determination.
"Okay! So," began the DJ. "I'd like to congratulate Krafty Mac on getting his ass served to himself on a silver platter! K-Jay, you're going to the final round!"
Kale walked backstage. As he heard DeeJack announce the other finalist, Kale was surprised. What had the DJ said? X-Sta-C? Who the hell was that?