THE MAYOR OF NEW YORK CITY

The mayor of New York City was a dapper fellow. He was known for an array of sharply tailored pinstriped suits and an immovable coiffed hairdo always slicked to perfection. Tyrone Guiliano Jackson never needed words to make his presence felt. He was the type who would pump up the volume of his car stereo and drive through any of the 5 boroughs crooning to Old Blue Eyes. The tinted windows hid Jackson’s darker skin but the special edition Mayoral Mercedes familiar to everyone always gave him away. The aroma given off by some of the mayor’s favorite habits trailed his vehicle like children behind an ice cream truck on an August day in the Boogie-Down. He sure loved Cubans and sipped cognac every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. On this day video vixen to the stars, Ms. Boo Tay sashayed across the mayor’s office with a bottle of brown liquor in one hand and a box of smokes in the other preparing for the weekday festivities. Nelly’s “Tip Drill” vibrated the walls as well as the giant gold medallion around Jackson’s neck and the party was soon to commence. Unbeknownst to the couple, as this particular hump day came to a close, there would be no cigars or V.S.O.P. tonight.

A spirit has arrived.

As the alcohol was on the verge of being popped, Vito Jenkins stormed in with such reckless abandonment; a startled Ms. Tay dropped the intoxicative beverage to the ground. Mayor Jackson didn’t seem bothered by the crash of a Hennessey bottle to his parquet floor, but was visibly peeved by his assistant’s untimely interruption.

“Vito you know my rules. This better be good. I’m about to work out on my boo,” said the mayor.

As he wiped a drop of sweat from his brow and caught his breath, Vito replied, “I’m sorry boss man but the phone has been ringing off the hook. It seems as if something scary has popped off New York City.”

“That’s quite absurd. Everyone knows that my city is immune to it all. What type of problem we got goins on?”

Vito, now with a shook look on his face apprehensively answered. “According to the NYPD and the doctors, it’s something they haven’t seen in years.”

Ms. Tay butted in with disgust. “My dude, you are messing up our high!”

“Boo, you are not here to talk. Fall back. Now Vito, be real with me what’s really good?” asked the mayor.

“Boss man, have you heard of the Boom Bap?”

“Boy, you have got to be buggin.” The mayor’s voice now trembling with shock and awe continued, “This can’t be true. How can you be so certain?”

“Well sir, the doctors are on their way to confirm,” responded Vito.

Before another word was spoken a knock came to the door. As the doctor stormed into the office, it was apparent that sweat had engulfed his entire body. His white shirt rendered transparent, was a sign of intense perspiration.

“Vito take my boo outside, this is about to get private.”

Ms. Boo Tay, her booty and Vito disappear into another space.

“So what’s the verdict?” the mayor inquired.

“Well, 5 of them have been trapped thus far. Their customs, attitudes, desires and ambitions seemed to have been shaped by a radically different life. We’ve tried to regulate their behavior but the drugs, advertisements and subliminal messages ain’t working. Sleep is the only way to sedate them.”

“Is there anything that I should keep my good eye out for doctor?”

“Well mayor the signs of danger are pretty diverse. Dynamic colors streaming across subways and borough buildings are taking over the city. There are unusual scratching sounds bellowing from basements across the metro area. I’ve heard reports from Harlem of people moving their bodies in an aggressive boogie fashion. It’s pretty super bad. Worst of all folks are assembling on street corners, backyards and cafeterias throughout the state, simply spitting. They stand in circles bopping uncontrollably while reciting rhythmic rhymes from decades ago. We’ve seen crazy Negro jive of this sort before, but nothing quite like this.

“There is complete disregard for the disorderly conduct laws,” the doctor continued.

The mayor was becoming extremely disconcerted. A look of frustration began to set in. “Just put them all in prison, like we’ve done before. Whatever needs to be done get to it fast, I’ve got an upcoming presidential election to win.”

The doctor snapped back, “Don’t you get it, you incompetent nigger? Electoral votes should be the least of your worries. If this BOOM BAP goes down and pops off all control will be lost. Society is not prepared for such a sudden change. There would be no recovery.”

“You’re the fucking doctor, do something!”

“Well I’ve heard of this psychologist that is familiar with BOOM BAP. Maybe he can be of assistance. He lives in Queens, right on Queens Blvd. We could probably throw his ass in jail. It’s a stretch, but we’re desperate.”

“I’ll telephone the president as soon as we’re done. I will not allow this thing to derail our plans” said the mayor.

As the mayor and doctor conjure up a strategic comeback, sounds of a hip hop hullabaloo come from outside. With Air Force One’s on his feet mayor Jackson and the doctor storm out of office only to find Ms. Boo Tay filled with delyte and a microphone spouting out lyrical linguistics. She looks directly at the mayor and spits.

“I said slow down, I know you wanna shake me down/ I’m not one of the girls to be rippin around.”

Vito on the other hand had found two aerosol cans and already left his mark throughout the room. The entire scene had been tagged by oranges and blacks. Out of the blue the mayor feels an unfamiliar twitch creep up into his neck. He starts with a Capoeira type two step and suddenly Jackson is on the floor body contorted and spinning rapidly in a 360 degree circle. The lights go off and at an individual pace each window begins to shatter. As uproar continues, the doctor shook as can be drops to floor in astonishment.

As the sun rises to illuminate the next day, it reveals that THE BOOM BAP has arrived and rocked 1 million New Yorkers.

This all seems way too familiar.