Chapter 10: no one messes with a bearded baby
In his
amazement at seeing his favorite artist in person like this, Danny walked straight
into a large claw arcade. He realized about the time that the claw started
pulling his hair that he had made a terrible mistake. On reflection, he
realized he shouldn’t have taken what I said about walking “into a large claw
arcade” so literally. He could hardly be blamed for this, since he had no idea
what I said about it, but the fact remains. He made quite a racket trying to
get out, and a crowd started to gather. M.G. and his posse turned to see what
was happening just as the machine tipped over, sending Danny sprawling across
the floor in the broken glass. M.G. looked at him with disgust for several
seconds, and was about to walk away when he heard the sound. What sound? THE
sound. Danny’s fall had knocked him into a daze, and without knowing where he
was or what he was doing, he began to rap. M.G. had never heard its equal. Many
of the posse thought that M.G. himself had started singing, and they joined in
with their rhythmic calls of “YEEEEEAH. M.G.!!!”, but he quickly silenced them.
“I’m not one to be modest about my skills, y’all, but I won’t ‘tend like I can
rap like that.” They stood in shock. “Kid, you got the makings of something
great. HEY!! I don’t wanna see no south-side wannabes messing with my little
man, here. The kid’s got skill. The kid’s got a beard. The kid is
south-side.” The posse was shocked.
Danny, as he came to his senses enough to realize what his idol had said, was
also shocked. I was shocked. Why was I shocked? Because I realized that I had
taken for granted that you would know the most obvious fact in the world about
Amish children: they are all born with full beards. One look at that exquisite
facial salad was enough for M.G. to see that this kid had some street-cred.
“Boys… men… south-side modified gangstas… I want you to give it up for Bearded
Baby.”
M.G.
invited Danny, or as he was now known, “Bearded Baby”, to join his posse. They
walked, they talked, and they rapped. They walked about the town, they talked
about the town, and they rapped about everything in between. Danny told his
hero his whole story, including how he had found out about him. “Man, you
straight up rap after just a few months of knowin what south-side is in the
first place? YEAH!! I give you some props fer that, Beard-Baby.” Danny couldn’t
believe what was happening to him. He was talking to his favorite rapper of all
time, and his own hero was giving HIM props.
The
posse continued to walk around the town, and eventually made it to the rap
legend’s favorite hangout. “Bearded Baby, I want you to make yourself at home
in my favorite hangout.” Said M.G., as he gestured towards the front door of
his favorite truck stop. “This jin-u-wine south-side eatery is the best you’ll
ever see.” Danny looked with wonder at the slightly rustic, yet slightly
elegant gas station. The front windows were totally covered in glossy posters
of racecar drivers and their favorite light beers. The gas pumps had computers
on them, yet the attendant wore pleasantly comfortable looking overalls. The
door had a sign reading, “You TRY n come in here with your wanna-be south side swag
and no shirt, and we say, ‘naw.’” Upon walking inside, Danny was blown away by
the cool, air-conditioned air. He was mesmerized by the bright, shiny
fluorescent lights. He was enraptured by the selection of Bob’s Authentic Amish
Bear Jerky. He was dumbfounded by how the bathrooms smelled even less repulsive
than his favorite aunt’s outhouse. “Jonathan’s hairband!” exclaimed Danny.
“this place is amazing!” “This,” said M.G., “this here is a little piece of
south side.”
“D’oh,
schwack.” Said Danny, “It’s almost 5:30. I need to get back to Mr. Nathaniel’s
house for dinner.” He thanked the rap legend and his posse for the warm
welcome, and jogged back towards Nathaniel’s apartment. “Hey, Danny!” said
Nathaniel as he opened the door for him. “It’s nearly time for dinner, you’d
better get washed up.” “Ok. Sorry I was gone so long.” Danny said. “I got the
digits of your apartment number backwards and almost got kidnapped by some guy
with a pet ear sitting on his shoulder when I accidentally knocked on his door.”
Nathaniel laughed, “Oh, that’s just Mr. Jimmie. He’s harmless enough. He
probably just wanted to show you his exotic hankie collection. By the way, I
don’t think you’ve met my wife, Chartreuse.” As he said this, his wife,
Chartreuse, came into the door. “You must be Danny!” she said as she brushed
the mass of ridiculously curly hair out of her eyes enough to see him. “Since
Nathaniel called earlier, I’ve been looking forward to cooking a fresh pot
roast for everyone! I’m just about to put it in, so hurry and get ready for
dinner.” “You’re just now putting it in? I thought Mr. Nathaniel said it was
almost ready?” Danny pondered aloud. “Oh, don’t worry.” Chartreuse assured him,
“It won’t take more than 15 minutes.”
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