The setting: The 22nd floor of a high rise in Long Island City, Queens, New York City, USA. A light rain trickles outside on a hazy, balmy evening. The darkened bedroom of DRK exists on a listless plane, unfettered by the tumult of the Manhattan streets. Slowly, the sound of aggressive hip hop begins to fade in to the room's soundscape with Doppler Effect intensity. He is suddenly and forcefully awoken to the lyrics of Roy Jones Jr.'s "Can't Be Touched":
Came to get crunk / Came to bring life / Came to get it started / Came to get it right / Turn down the music / Turn up the mics / WHEN WILL YOU NIGGAZ LEARN!!!
I witnessed, first hand, The Poet enraptured. Flames surrounding him like an angry god and a 60" projection on my wall of the YouTube Highlights of one Larry English from NIU. The Poet then spoke:
"I...I...d-don't understand, Poet. Please!!!"
He then spoke words I will likely never forget:
"YOU FOOL!!! I HAVE CHOSEN YOU TO BE THE VESSEL FOR MY TRUTHS. I LEAVE MY WISDOM IN PLAIN VIEW FOR YOU TO PASS ON TO ALL THOSE THAT FOLLOW MY CREED AND YOU SCORN ME?!?!?! HOW DARE YOU?!!! YOU PLEBEIAN!!! YOU HEATHEN!!! NEVER AGAIN WILL I ALLOW THIS TO GO UNPUNISHED. MY WORD IS TRUTH. MY CONCERNS ARE FLAMES UPON YOUR IGNORANCE. DO YOU THINK I SPEND COUNTLESS HOURS WATCHING LINE PLAY AND ENGAGING THAT DULLARD, CAPTAIN-OBVIOUS HARVEY FIALKOV SO THAT YOU CAN TOSS ASIDE MY WISDOM?!?!?! NEVER AGAIN WILL I ALLOW THIS TRESPASS. NEVER AGAIN!!!!"
With this, The Poet vanished, a calm returned and I remain forever changed. A shell of the man I once thought I was.