Writing | Art By Logovend.com

Look V Kool

MC Look was enjoying himself VIP-style. Set over. Drinking with his crew. On the house courtesy of MC Look. Then Look spotted a guy across the room, a dead ringer for MC Look. The Look look-alike walked over.

“MC Look?”
   “Yeah. Yeah.” What did this fool want?
   “Good set.” The look-alike offered his fist.
   Look relented and bumped, “Safe.”
   “But would have done tings diff' for def'. Climax later. Know bro?”
   “Telling me climax? Look at me trying to look the MC Look. Me?” The real MC Look stood up pointing at himself, angry.
   Kool backed off.
   “And you? Who be you, fool?” Look pointed at the look-alike.
   “Cool, MC Kool.”
   Look slam sat down and put his arm round Zee-zee. Duke sucked on his teeth.

The week after Kool turned up again. After-set VIP. Mouth in tow. Week after - same tings. Look was not gonna let no week-four happen. Words with Kelsey on the door. But Kelsey say Kool knew peeps.

So four. Same time. Same channel. Same table. Same annoying wannabe-MC punter.
   With the manager the week after, same story. Kool, the fool, had friends. But manager wasn't the money and def no law in da club. Look knew that much. Brains not names. Iidiat!
   Security was no-go stand for new boy on the turf not paying no dues. Simple matters of respect. Could rely on Duke for the plant. Twenty Es. Forty quid. More than one way to skin this monkey.

Week five. “Have a word with your man. Put Kool up there, MC Kool. Your rhymes, dry. Gimme the go, bro.”
   Same table. Same ugly, Look-faced Kool.

Look hissed in duke's ear, “BUMBOCLAAT STILL HERE!”
   “Look ... turn out, the Kool joker, the man, he may look the Look but no MC. The man - dealer.”

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