This is a story I'm writing in my free time when I can't find anything else to do. It's not very deep or worth any merit, though. It's just a fun story about chilling out.
“Yo, yo, yo, you guys look like you’re true to the hip-hop scene, cuz.” The chocolate skinned man extended his arm in a similar fashion to a cross walk guard and halted the band of four walking through the mall. They were trying to get to the food court, where some old-fashioned tacos from Taco-Bell awaited them.
“Listen to this shit, dawgs, I can tell you know some phat-ass music when you come across it!” The man did a couple of rhymes that amused Slade, Scott, Alex, and Kevin. He reached into his teal, sleeveless hoodie pocket and revealed a couple of CDs in cardboard packaging. Three of them were wrapped in cellophane, but the remaining disk looked like it had survived the Vietnam War.
“Yo, you guys lookin’ for to listen to some dope rhythms and rhymes?” Slade reached for one of the CDs labeled “Exxtravagant,” but was smacked away as the rapper replied.
“Nah, dawg, come on, four bucks for one dope ass CD.”
“Man, I ain’t got no cash, nigga,” Scott replied, wearing a black du-rag.
“Dat’s aight, dese def jamz be too much fo’ yo mind to comprehend, dawg.” Exxtravagant rebutted calmly and without hesitation. Alex began to look a little uneasy.
“Man, what’s up with you, Alex? You feeling alright?” Slade inquired and Alex answered.
“Yeah, I just don’t feel right for refusing such a good offer. I mean, this is what he’s decided to do with his life, maybe we should make his dream come true.” Alex was stuttering and fidgeting. He reached into his back pocket and retrieved his leather bi-fold wallet. Out came four dollars and in came one CD titled “Exxtravagant versus the Gayness.”
“What you trying to do? Steal our cash? Where’re the other CDs, nigg?” Slade was starting to get impatient.
“Huh, you deaf or something? I said four bucks for da CD!” Exxtravagant snapped. Slade let out a deep sigh and barked “Let’s bounce, niggs!” They continued down the gaping hall, filled with mainstream shops such as Hot Topic and Rave. These stores disgusted the paradigm-shifters. Kevin had a puzzled look on his face.
“That blew my mind, but not before it was shattered. I ponder, what sort of music does this CD bear? Break-beat? IDM? I say, what a peculiar fellow!” Kevin began, with a more than enough flowered speech. Luckily, Slade interrupted with his order.
“Give me four taco supremes… and a large green tea.”
“I am truly sorry, sir, but we do not vend the beverage you seek.” The waitress replied softly. She was truly remarkable; intelligent; long, flowing brown hair, dyed with a red streak; and beautiful. She was the last sort of person Slade expected to meet working at a fast food joint.
Slade sighed and then replied.
“I should have known, you see, my tastes do not follow the places I tread very well. Please forgive me for wasting your precious time. Please substitute it with water and lemon.” His eyes sparkled as they gazed into her dark brown eyes. As their vises met, it seemed as though time slowed down. His face turned pink and his eyes quickly shifted to the floor as he handed the beauty a twenty. He took his change and stepped off to the side, where his food would appear. The rest of Slade’s friends ordered and took a seat, leaving Slade to the task of carrying the grub.
He grabbed the trays as they appeared before him and returned to the tables that his company seized.
“Man, did you see that girl? I think I’m in loooooooooooove.” Slade was literally melting for that woman. While Slade was daydreaming, Scott and Kevin were scarfing down his food.
“Y’know what?” Slade slammed his hands down on the table, overturning the trays and attracting unnoticed attention.
“I’m going to go speak with that girl,” he turned his back to his friends and approached the customerless counter.
“Where can I find the girl with the red streak in her hair?”
“Oh, you mean Obscurity? She just got off work.” Without thinking, Slade leapt over the counter and bolted for the back door and exited the establishment. He ran over to the guardrail and looked around. Without wasting any time, he launched himself over the railing and dropped a whole story, his jacket-tail flowing in the wind as he slid down a light pole. Slade glanced around and caught sight of a foot vanishing behind a brick corner. Suddenly, the earth rumbled and a loud explosion reverberated through the smoggy air. A large radius that began around the wall stretched out into the parking garage and increased the air’s temperature. The street began to break into shards and rose from the asphalt substratum, dissipating dust into the atmosphere. Wires from the city’s infrastructure burst and expelled electric shocks about the facility. The rubbish experienced an increase in momentum and danced like rag dolls until other objects arrested their trajectory. It was pure chaos.
Slade scorched around the broken edge. His jaw plunged as he shielded his eyes from a bright light. The air was getting hotter and more humid. It was beginning to become difficult to breath… even to move! When the light dimmed, he viewed the waitress, Obscurity, with something that can only be described as a handheld cannon. It was metallic-white, somewhat similar to bismuth. It wasn’t really round, but it wasn’t really angular, either. The weapon was somewhat a mixture of both. One could say that it were… alien. Yes, that term describes it justly. Just ahead of his mistress laid two demolished black vans. As the gun halted its banshee screech, a purple stream of light orbited her in the semblance of Saturn’s rings. They grew in size, shrank, and whipped without conformity until they were somehow lured back into the bismuth-cannon. The screams of the gun were like a canter, leading rats from the streets, into their doom. When all was done, she raced towards the vans, dodging the returning debris. She leapt onto the van on the left and launched herself onto the van on the right, from there, she stepped outward with her dominant foot, back with her left, bended her knees as low as they would take her and vaulted onto the top of the garage, without giving the scene a second glance. No hint of emotion strewed across her visage, thus retaining the cool aura about the girl. Slade just stood there, where Obscurity had stood moments before, with that ethereal cannon she had gently caressed. Such destruction it had brought, he thought to himself! He took a moment to examine the downed denizens in black, inspecting the cliché sunglasses and designer suits. No open wound were apparent, save for the gashes made by the rubbish of cement and brick. The gun must have used some sort of kinetic energy, he concluded, as anything he had previously expected had not appeared on the victims.
“More lethal than lead and gunpowder, yet less mutilation of vanity,” he said softly as the sirens of fire engines screeched on their quest to extinguish the electrical fires nearby.
“Shit,” he exclaimed, realizing that he would be responsible for the whole ordeal unless he could get the hell out. Thoughtlessly, he darted, with no desired destination. He just ran. He ran and ran until he found himself at the park. Where had his friends gone? How could he have the audacity to leave them behind? Had they been blamed for his dyed haired mistress? All of these questions stirred in the boy’s mind, creating a long period of confusion, acquiring no real answers.
All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a high-pitched voice pierced the air.
“BREAK IT DOWN!” Slade looked over to his left; only to see Orlando blasting some break beats and what seemed to him like a gorilla having a seizure on the large piece of cardboard.
“What the ****** are you guys doing? Here, let me show you how it’s done.” Slade kicked the ape off of the stage, threw in a Thyrfing CD and rolled onto the platform, coming out of it into a headstand. From that position he tilted his head and stood on his neck, bringing his feet down so that it looked to the crowd as though he were tied in a knot. He unwound his legs and this is where the break truly began. Slade went with the velocity of the spin, increasing its longevity. 2 minutes, now three, now four. He spun for five entire minutes, until the Viking hymn ended. As the double bass blasted its final blast, he stopped the rotation by placing his hands on the cardboard and flung himself to his feet.
“And that, my niggs, is how a break should be done,” he boasted.
“You ******ing cracker. You can’t break out to that cacophonous shit.” The ape looked more like an angry chimp, with a peculiar blade in its hand. The gnarled expression on his face was doing no good, either.
“Excuse me, I hope you are not counting on a brawl.” He took stance.
The monkey looked puzzled and lunged for Slade. He was about 100 mph slow, for the Berserker had already captured the creature in a painful looking headlock.
“You’d do fine to remember this lesson, punk. I do not take kindly to the incompetent, or the violent, for that matter. Please keep this in mind as I deflate your ego.” Slade took control of the cheap blade and punctured the oaf’s scrotum. A screeching passed through the gaping hole, along with what looked like a stream of thick dust. The banshee would not relent until a spectre hovered above the resting body.
“Who dares create an orifice in this man?” The voice bellowed as though the park was in a valley. As this thought came to Slade, he looked around and noticed that where asphalt had once been appeared mountains and countless crevices in them. Those carved out hallows, he pondered, must be the only way out.
“I repeat, and you would do well to answer me, who dares create an orifice in this man? Do not try my patience, humans.” After this, Slade spoke up. “T’was I. I see that you are out for blood, not a wise choice.”
“Foolish human! I am a mere image of what I once was! In this state I can do little more than haunt the elderly. The most damage I’d be able to do is frighten the elderly into death.” It stopped for a moment, thinking. “But…” he started, as a smile stretched across his plasmatic face, “my Ninjas can arrange your funeral.” The ghost chuckled and screamed, “Les Ninjas, Sortiez!” His voice returned to normal as he addressed Slade and Orlando, “No one has ever been able to escape my Ninjas. COME OUT, MY PRETTIES, IT IS TIME TO PLAY!!! BWAHAHAHAHA”
The wind chopped above as helicopters lowered rappelling Ninjas into the Canyon. A 19 wheeler demolished a side of the mountain. Slade couldn’t tell for sure, but he was still certain that Scott was in the driver’s seat. The trailer of the truck consisted of huge speakers; the rest of the rock began to crumble as he turned the bass up. Left and right, their heads were exploding. These Ninjas were no match for the art of the Gabba Disco. Slade and Orlando however, were trained in it, although lacking the thoroughness that Scott had made sure to acquire.
One thing caught the attention of the chill out crew; the yellow ninjas were skilled. Music alone was not enough to defeat these minions of Wapan.
Then, out of nowhere and all of a sudden, the Ninjas were frozen in time! And then, out of nowhere, followed by a purple flash, Slade’s crush appeared, perched upon the shoulder of a ninja.
“Quickly,” she hammered, “You are not quite a match for these goons… yet. Return to my lair, it is time you decide who, exactly, you will entrust your very life with.” Obscurity leapt off of the guy’s head and landed on the desert earth with grace, her crimson cloak flowing in the violent gales. It looked like a phoenix biting the dust.