The Rap Battle

I went to a rap battle last night. And participated. It was held in the high school auditorium in the rough and tough Chicago suburb of Highland Park, where both the land and the park get high. Straight ghetto.

I couldn't go by my real name. The name Gabe has as much street cred as Big Bird's second cousin Gentle Bird, Jr. My rapper name is FloZilla McNilla. Flo for Florence Henderson, Zilla for Godzilla, Mc for Marty McFly and Nilla for the wafers. I was primed for victory.

I was up against a man named Gerald. He went first. The beat dropped. Bum Bum Boom Boom Bum Bum.

"The first thing you need to know, that is in order to flow, you don't change your name, to FloZilla, oh no. It'll doom you each time, when you try to rhyme, you can't catch me, you don't have the time."

The crowd went nuts. NUTS. Then it was my turn. The beat dropped. Bum Bum Boom Boom Bum Bum.

(Cough, then cough again, then clear throat loudly.) "Your name is Gerald, I read it in the Herald. You remind me of Colin Farrell and also my sister Cheryl. You should change your name, your game, your frame, you're lame, you're all the same. All you Geralds, you Colin Farrells, my sisters Cheryls." (Cough again).

The crowd went nuttier. NUTTIER. I was beaming. I was on fire.

Then the fire department came. Don't play with matches indoors.