(“MAO SAY WHAT ?!?" is today’s fortune cookie sized tale.
The instructions for today’s story are rather detailed: first of all print the story out, next go to your favorite Chinese restaurant and order your favorite meal. Finally, after finishing your meal place your fortune cookie on top of this story and bring your fist down upon it. Without sweeping the fortune cookie aside, try to read whatever you can through the crumbs.
That is your very special “Mao Say What” fortune.
I hope you “ei” (Chinese for love) this story…)
MAO SAY WHAT ?!?
MC Krafty-Stylz paces back and forth in the back alley with his hand hanging like an accessory from his crotch. He spews words a mile a minute, warming up for the rap battle that is being waged in a warehouse three back-alleys away.
The honky moon hanging overhead seems to be his only spectator.
“Yo yo I’m MC Krafty-Stylz, Buy your cakes ready made full of files, cuz I’ll block yo’ ass in with rhymes, you’ll reminisce over prison times, cuz this shit is for life, leavin’ you stuttering life Barney Fife, Oh shit yo’ on the other side of the law, pulling shit out like Quick Draw Macgraw ? Stick it back in your pants, Cause I got the shit that make ‘em dance.”
A figure emerges from behind the shadows of a dumpster. A hobo-prophet on the verge of the biggest prediction of his life: “I see your past and your future and in both directions awaits greatness.”
MC Krafty-Stylz stops dead in his tracks. A bemused expression break-dances across his face.
“I see that in your past life you were the leader of a great nation. Mao Se Tong was what the world called you. You ruled with ambition and cruelty but this time around you will emerge as a new kind of leader. A man to rule two nations. The coming times will be dark with great conflict s arising between China and America. You will create a new accord between the two countries. You will bridge the two nations with a new kind of revolution,” he says through a mangy beard cluttered with spittle.
“Yo that shit is wacked. You best be getting yo’self a new act cuz’ that performance was not happening. Where’s the arm waving an’ shit, man ?” he laughs.
The hobo prophet’s eyes illuminate red with anger. A wind whips up behind him.“You are the next leader of the world !!” he shouts.
The young rapper freezes for a second and then concludes: “Well if this is gonna be that kind of party I’m gonna stick my dick in the mashed potatoes”
He laughs and the prophet cries.
People inside the warehouse three back-alleys away wait for the next performer.