Got Some Teeth – Obie Trice
So there I was… DJigging. Rodeo Drive. Ivanka Trump party. Showcasing her new jewelry collection. Diamonds crusts everywhere. Swanky. Classy. Plus. Me. Suited. Booted. Looking slick at least. Kitted out in my mighty Reiss suit. Perk of DJigging fashion events. Free clothes! Dancing. Although. Tad tight. Slim-fit-as-funk kind of tight suit. Anyways. Setting up for the party. Women dressed up to the nines. Older guys itching to drop big wads of cash on their younger wives. All busy around me. People coming and going. Commotion. Just about to start. Corner of my eye. See a woman about to knock a speaker over. Oh balls. Knock. Speaker. Wobble. I jump. Catch the almost stricken speaker. Avert the mishap. Contort my body weirdly. Bend in some sort of way. Make a belly for myself. Making my pants erupt. Explode out. Mid-drift turns into a gun-toting cowboy. Feel something fly off. Clasp bit that looks like a staple… Ping! Bullet out of a gun. P’peuu pe’peww!! Strikes a woman’s wrist. Slow motion. Matrix style. Ricochets off the $10,000 bracelet she’s showcasing. Apologies, Ivanka.
Clasp hits the floor. Bounces twice. Echoing the ping noises. Women now looking at me. First line of defence in my pants is gone. Play it cool. Until. Corner of my other eye: My mixer is about to fall off the table. Initial jump made it slide down. Perilously close to the edge. More balls. Jump. Save! As I do, the button of my pants pops out. Last line of defence. P’peuu pe’peww, P’PEUU PE’PEWW!!! Catch the mixer. Contort. Button fires out. Another bullet. Smacks a mirror. Bounces off. Lands at the feet of a group of women. Organisers of the event. All look at the button. All look up. At me. See me. Holding my mixer. Smiling back. Sheepy Mac. Crisis averted. Let out a sigh of relief. And then my zip bursts open. Pants slide down. Revealing my delightful blue boxers. At least I was wearing a pair, says you. Mighty work. As I said: Swanky. Classy. Plus. Me. So that was that.
Liathroidi Is The Irish For...
So there I was… DJigging. Sunday afternoon. Beer garden. Mighty spot. BBQ. Booze. Savage tunes. Good spot for celebrity heads too if you’re a tourist. Sunday on. Standing in the DJig booth. Just back from the bathroom. Jason Segel up complimenting the music. When. Felt a weird pain from somewhere. Sharp. But dull. Pinching. But overall. What the funk. Where the funk. Ow. Ugh. Jesus. Sore. What’s going on. Looked down. Realised. Oh Jesus. Somehow I buttoned my… eh, liathroidi, into my jeans. Which was funking dumb enough. So that was that.
So there I was… DJigging. This Sunday. Same spot again. About to start. See my buddy being unwittingly chatted up by Cate Blanchett. Ha. Volume up. Press play. And. KABOOM! Sound system. Fried. Ears. Bleeding. Goosed. Game. Over. So I sang a song instead. Mighty. And that was that.
Good old hoot, DJigging. And ironically this was the song that blew the system…
Should I Stay Or Should I Go – The Clash