by BobA. Troutt
*****
Giggle’s Holiday Book
Turkey Hash
It was a wet Saturday night down in front of the Turkey Trot across the street from the Bean Patch. Everybody was out hanging loose and laid back at the local hangout on Giblet Drive and Cranberry Circle. The strip was filled with cars, trucks, and people passing up and down the street checking things out. They were seeing what was happening, what was going on, to be seen and to see whom they could see.
Boom! Booo—ooom sounded a boom box from a car as it slowly cruised by the Turkey Trot. Honk, honk, honk screamed the horns as they tooted and yelled to move on. Yep, it was a typical Saturday night, all but one thing. Tonight at the Turkey Trot, they were having the rapping showdown between two of the best around Turkey Creek. It wouldn’t be but a few minutes until the rapping battle would begin. Who would be the Godfather of rap? Everyone waited patiently outside the Trot for the show to start.
“Hey, man, what’s happening,” asked Arquilla as he stepped up on the sidewalk in front of the Turkey Trot.
“You got it, my man,” replied Marvin as they slapped five.
“It’s a nasty night to be out,” said Arquilla as he blew his breath through the tips of his wings.
“You got that right, brother,” replied Marvin, “but it looks like every dog in town is out on the prowl.”
Honk, honk tooted Big Earl.
“Hey, brother, I like that new set of wheels!” shouted Arquilla as Big Earl drove off and waved.
About that time, Dewayne walked up.
“Hey, man,” he shouted as he moved to the side, sliding his hand down Marvin’s hand and clinching his hand and butting their fists together. “What about it, dog.”
“What it is,” replied Marvin.
“What about Arquilla? What you got showing tonight?” asked Dewayne.
I take my homeboy, Tommy Boy, to be the Godfather of rap in Turkey Creek,” said Arquilla.
“I don’t know, blood, I heard the out-of-towner, Gooseneck, can sure lay some shuck and jive on your boy Tommy,” replied Dewayne.
“Gooseneck is okay,” said Arquilla, “but he is out of class with my boy.”
Billy Ray pulled up, stopped in front of the Trot, and motioned for Marvin to come over to the car.
“Yeah, man, what’s going down,” said Marvin.
“What time is the battle?” asked Billy Ray.
“Ah, man, it will be—,” quickly he looked at his watch, “about another thirty minutes until show time,” replied Marvin.
“Thanks, bro,” said Billy Ray. “I’ll catch you later.”
Honk, honk, honk sounded the horn of the car behind Billy Ray.
“I’m going—I’m going,” he yelled.
Quickly, he pulled out and took off. As Marvin walked back up on the sidewalk, he shivered a chill.
“Ooo—wee, dog, it’s getting colder out here. That battle better be getting started because I don’t know if I can stand this cool night air much longer,” whined Marvin.
“Chill out,” replied Dewayne. “My boy is going to heat that battle up. Hahahahaha.”
“What do you think about it, Marvin?” asked Arquilla.
“Hey, man, I don’t know, like man, both boys are good,” said Marvin. “I’d be afraid to say either way.”
“Looking fine, dog, looking fine,” said Dewayne as some young hens passed by.
“Check me out,” said Marvin trying to impress one of the girls as they passed. “Ooo—wee, foxy.”
“You boys don’t know what time the battle starts, do you?” they asked.
“Well—,” said Marvin.
“Uh—,” said Dewayne.
“In about fifteen minutes,” replied Arquilla. “Why don’t you fine ladies go on in and get you a seat?”
“Why thank you,” they replied as they batted their eyes at him and stepped inside.
“Ooooo—smooth, dog,” said Dewayne.
“Like, bro,” said Marvin. “What do you have that I don’t?”
“Politeness,” replied Arquilla.
“Get out of here,” said Dewayne.
All three burst out laughing.
Honk, honk, honk sounded a horn as a car drove by and they waved. Suddenly, Dewayne whistled out to stop the car.
“I’ll check you out later, man. I need to see this dude,” said Dewayne.
Dewayne ran over to the car, jumped in, and they spun out of sight.
“Well, it’s about time to get in,” motioned Marvin.
Arquilla and Marvin opened the door, and walked inside the Trot. It was nearly filled, and as they took a table, some of the guys hollered at them.
“Gobble, gobble, gobble!” they sounded.
Arquilla and Marvin gobbled back as they sat down. Everyone was talking all at once, moving up and down, in and out, about the room. A waitress came over to their table.
“What would you guys like to drink?” she asked.
“I’ll have a cranberry drink with a little ice,” said Marvin.
“And you, sir?” she asked.
“Do you have any turkey broth?” asked Arquilla.
“Yes, we do,” she replied.
“I’ll have a little of it, warm,” he said.
As they sat there talking, suddenly there was a ring. Quickly, Marvin took out his cell phone and flipped it open. As he talked on the phone, Arquilla took his CD player out of his pocket and began to listen to it. As his head moved with the beat of the music, his legs shuffled about and his feet moved with the rhythm.
“Okay, I got to go,” said Marvin. “I’ll catch you later, bye.”
As Marvin looked out across the room, he noticed Gooseneck had come in and sat down. About that time Johnny Walker walked up.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?” asked Johnny as he sat down.
“How’s my favorite white boy doing tonight?” asked Marvin.
“I’m doing fine, dog. What about you?” replied Johnny.
“What you say about the battle tonight, man?” asked Marvin. “You think Tommy Boy will get down?”
“Sure,” replied Johnny. “He’s got it all going for him. He’s even on his own turf.”
Arquilla slipped off his earphones and joined in the conversation.
“Here you go, boys,” said the waitress.
“Thank you, baby girl,” said Marvin.
“May I help you?” she asked Johnny.
“Oh, no, thanks. I’ve got to cut out,” replied Johnny.
The waitress turned to leave and Johnny said, “I’ll catch you later.”
“See you later,” he said.
“Yeah, man,” they both replied.
“May I have your attention please?” yelled the D.J. “We want to welcome everyone to the Turkey Trot’s Thanksgiving Rap Battle Contest.”
“Woof—woof—woof,” cried the crowd. “We want Tommy. We want Tommy.”
“Okay,” hushed the D.J. “Tonight Tommy Boy will be battling against Gooseneck from over the hill.”
“Boo—boo—boo! We want Tommy!” shouted a man in the crowd. “We’re for you. Dog him, Tommy!”
Tommy Boy and Gooseneck stepped up on the stage. The D.J. asked them to pick a side of the coin. As the D.J. flipped the coin into the air it twirled and twirled, then suddenly it slapped on the D.J.’s hands and he lifted his hand from over it.
Gooseneck won the toss. The D.J. scratched the record and started the beat. Gooseneck stepped up into the light and began to rap.
“Yo! Listen up.
I may not be in my own town.
Look at this joker, he’s a barny and clown.
I’m the godfather of rap when do I get my crown.
One thing, when I beat you try not to frown.
Look at his little cranberry smile.
Try getting rid of that giblet breath, it might take a while.
When I watch you become a cooked bird it’ll be hard not to smile.
The way you have those google eyes.
It looks like you got some kind of surprise.
You’re like a spoiled boy, that’s what I despise.
I can’t stand the way you’re goose steppin’.
Over the hill is where I’m rappin’.
It’s Thanksgiving and you ain’t nothing but an oversized butterball.
You have a messed up turkey call.
If you go up against me, you’re bound to fall.”
(Lyrics by Stephen Faro)
Boom, boom sounded the beat of the music as he kicked with the beat. As he rapped, the crowd cheered on, swaying with the rhythm of the rhyme and music.
“Do it, my man,” shouted one guy.
“Gobble, gobble, gobble,” they all cried.
As Gooseneck closed it out, the crowd applauded and cheered him.
“Not bad,” said Arquilla. “He’s better than I thought.”
“He’s good,” said Marvin, “but not as good as homeboy.”
About that time, Tommy Boy stepped up into the light.
“Woof—woof—woof,” cried the crowd.
There was no mistaking from hearing the crowd, Tommy Boy was the favorite.
Scratch, scratch, scratch sounded the D.J. on the turntable as Tommy Boy stepped out and began to rap.
“Okay, you sounded kind of mad.
Just because you got a drumstick belly, don’t be sad.
You’re a big bird twin, that’s pretty bad.
You’re dressing brain must be driving you insane.
I’m tired of your raps, they’re so plain.
Give me that mic to spare you more pain.
You corn picker, you’ll do good to get out of the rain.
Yeah, it’s Thanksgiving.
Did you find that out by yourself?
Let’s retire your raps, and put them on a shelf.
You still don’t know who’s the best, you jive turkey.
Do you hear the crowd?
It makes me proud.
What is it too loud? Who won? It’s kind of obvious.
Come on don’t try to copy this.
What else did I miss?
Oh yeah! You’re an incubator baby.
Yeah, I covered it all—maybe?”
(Lyrics by Stephen Faro)
Then he got down. He gave no mercy as the beat pounded the walls of the Trot. His words rolled off his tongue in a rhythmic rhyme that could not be compared.
“Go for it!” yelled one in the crowd.
“Shoot the moon,” cried another.
Tommy Boy enhanced the night, Arquilla and Marvin leaped up on the table and moved to the groove of the rhyme.
“Do it, brother,” cried Marvin.
“Show us what you have, brother,” cried out Arquilla.
Tommy boy eased back down, the crowd cheered for more. He started rapping. Everybody was moving to the rhyme. He eased back down when the D.J. stepped up.
“I believe it’s very clear who the next Godfather of Rap is in Turkey Creek,” announced the D.J.
“Tommy Boy!” cried the crowd.
“Come on back up here, Tommy,” said the D.J. “Let’s hear some more.”
Tommy reached over, took Gooseneck by the arm, pulled him into the light with him, and then they all got down.
“What a night,” said Arquilla. “What a night.”
“Well, I got to go home,” said Marvin.
“Me, too,” said Arquilla.
“I’ll talk to you later, man,” said Marvin.
“Sure, bro, later,” replied Arquilla.
Marvin and Arquilla left and the light at the Turkey Trot went off and the streets were empty again, except for a few cars that passed by.
