(I wrote this because I was listening to the Mom Can’t Cook episode about Lemonade Mouth where the bad guy is a rap rocker. I listened to Break Stuff and it is a really good song for what it is. This idea just popped into my head. I actually have a great deal of respect for the man. Him showing up in I Saw the TV Glow, a deeply trans film and Y2K where he good-naturedly made fun of himself. I think that he might be an alright dude.)

He didn’t have to look around to find his trusted red baseball cap. It was always within arms’ reach and of course, he could easily summon it to his hand through the deep magic of nu metal. He could not show people that though, lest he be stripped of his powers by the nu metal mages that taught him his dark craft. But now was the time to write. Now was the time to express himself.

He sat down at his desk. He tapped his pencil against the desk, it’s point ready to be dulled through his art. He looked at his notebook. What would he bring into the being? What would he draw from the fabric of creation?

He decided that he had to speak to the people. To the everyman. What was one of the most universal things to say to somebody else? He thought for a few moments and nodded to himself.

“Did you ever have one of those days?”

There it was. A cordial phrase. One that you would say to a friend. Someone you loved. They would know that you’re going to talk about a shared experience. What else did people not want? Sometimes you…

“Did you ever have one of those days? Where you didn’t want to wake up.”

Yes, yes, YES. He was describing a bad day. Everyone had had bad days. Of course, he was far richer so his bad days were much better than others. Much easier. But he could still relate to the people. He needed to describe the people that you encountered.

“Everything is fucked. Everybody sucks.”

Beautiful. He was a wordsmith. He had to keep going.

“You don’t really know why.”

Excellent. Time to express the anger. Truly express it.

“But you really want to justify ripping someone’s off.”

What if he was an assassin? One that you didn’t want to make angry?

“No human contact. And if you interact, your life is on contract.”

His pencil was nearly on fire. He kept writing. When he was done, the eraser remained untouched because why would you need to erase any of it? He had had his pencil wore near down to the nub. But he looked upon his song, “Break Stuff”. This certainly wouldn’t come back to bite him in the year 1999.