Flip (exerpt)

[Some really bad West Coast rap plays in the background. A white teenager stands in front of his mirror trying different positions with the baseball cap on his head, attempting the thug look.]

[He bounces around the stage and raps to an imaginary concert crowd, trying out various physicalities that he’s seen on MTV and BET.]

I be the F to the L to the I to the P
Destroyin’ motherfuckers yeah that’s my hobby
Any sucker emcee wanna come test me
I put a bullet in yo ass with my fuckin’ uzi

Niggas get killed tryin’ to bite my stee
My main nigga Trev, pass the for-tee
So I could get loose and blow niggas out the frame
Don’t even try to trip because Flip be my name

Yeah…Fuck the food stamps and the welfare change
I’m tryin’ to get a Pathfinder plus a Range-

[He is interrupted by his mother’s voice. He walks to his door and yells.] What?! I took the bottles to the store already! I left the change on the counter! I put it on top of the coupons! Next to the microwave. ..That’s where I put it. ..Then quit botherin’ me then! Damn. [He goes back to the mirror and regroups.]

I’m tryin’ to get a Pathfinder plus a Range-
…Rover…with a house in France filled with ho’s

Vanilla Ice he could suck my fuckin’ dick
That fool Bryant Gumbal makes me fuckin’ sick
Sittin’ at his desk talkin’ mad fuckin’ shit
Lala la lala that shit is fuckin’ bullshit!

My niggas is in the front, while you be in the back
Fuck bein’ white word up dude, I’m black
I’m only seventeen but my shit still thump, and by the time I’m eighteen I’ll be chillin’ with Donald Trump
[He freezes in a snapshot gangsta thug pose.] Yeah man.

Thank you, thank you. Thank you all my fans. Flip-Dogg on the m-i-c. What you thought it was, fool? You knowhamsayin’? Biotch. Yeah man. Thank you, thank you. [He gestures behind him.] Oh thanks, Jay. Thanks a lot, Jay. Ya little fucker. [He trots around a little bit more, and suddenly bursts into a thug fantasy.]

I thought I said a gee! This ain’t no gee, nigga! What?! You tryin’ to be slick with me? I’ma blast you. Blaow! [He blasts his victim.] Yeah, now you know not to fuck with Flip-Dogg. You knowhatimsayin’? Ain’t that right, Jay? Now they know not to fuck with Flip-Dogg. [He sits.] I’m the baddest motherfuckin’ thug-ass dogg, straight up, Jay. Whooh!

Ah. [He takes a breath.]It’s good to be back on your show, Jay. Thanks for havin’ me on, man. Yeah, you know, I get all the bitches. I got mad gees and shit. Nah, I’m just kiddin’. But yeah. It ain’t easy bein’ the number one rapper in the world, man. But me and my homies, Montana Gangsta Blood Thugs, we keep it real. Our album is the dopest shit you ever heard. It sold 35 million copies. Actually it sold 350 billion copies. The whole world bought our record, Jay. ..Yeah it’s tough tourin’, bein’ on the road. You know, signin’ autographs and ridin’ around in limousines, and drinkin’ champagne everyday and whatnot. Ten bitches up in my hotel room. Fuck it, I got four hundred seventy-three bitches up in my hotel room. But, it’s all good.

[He is interrupted again.] What?! I told you I left it on the counter. If it ain’t there, Dad musta picked it up. ..Well Dad musta picked it up then. ..I don’t know! Bowling!

…Damn. The fans Jay, they won’t leave me alone, man. [He stands in front of the mirror again.] I know what you’re thinkin’, Jay. You’re thinkin’ like, how is it that this white dude could be such a dope rapper. Well, the truth of the matter, Jay, is that I ain’t white, man. I’m really black. See, I went to the doctor, Jay. This is between me and you, Jay. And he told me I got this rare skin disorder where I look white but I’m really black. It’s called like Eosonophilic Ionic ..Dermatitis. Like, check this out, see this birthmark, Jay? Well it’s not really a birthmark, see that’s the real color of my skin, and the rest of me is a birthmark. It’s mad rare. The shit is mad rare, Jay. But I mean ..even though I live in Montana ..I still got the ghetto in my heart. I mean, this is just temporary. I’m just chillin’ here for now. I don’t really belong here. I’ma move soon though. I’ma move to like ..just to some straight-up ghetto thug-ass projects type shit. Where the people just kick it every day and keep it real. And chill in their BMW’s, and rap, and all the girls got on bikinis, and everybody just ..parties… and raps. You know, where the niggas just kick it, Jay. Don’t get me wrong. When I say nigger, I don’t mean it like in any bad way. Like, “Oh you fuckin’ nigger.” But like, when you’re just chillin’ with your homeys and you just be like- I don’t know… “What’s goin’ on, you bitch ass nigga!” It’s all good. It’s all love, Jay. It’s all love.

[He is interrupted again.] I don’t gotta work till 5 o’clock! If I don’t gotta work till 5 o’clock, then I don’t gotta leave till 4:40 and it ain’t 4:40 yet. It’s 4:38! ..So I’ll leave at 4:40 then. No! He took it back to the feed store yesterday, I don’t have it! ..Don’t come in my room! I’m naked!

[He sulks over to where imaginary Jay sits.] Damn. Man, see what I gotta deal with every day? Oh, I’m sorry I’m standin’ on your fuckin’ head, Jay. You little fucker. [He goes back to the mirror.] So yeah Jay, I gotta leave soon man, I gotta work, Jay. ..Hardees. I mean I don’t need to work at Hardees, cause I’m a millionaire fuckin’ rapper. But, you know I like to just help out my community every now and then, you knowhamsayin’?

[Beat.] But I hate it sometimes though, Jay. I mean, that ain’t me, man. I’m just standin’ there, servin’ burgers to some damn tractor-drivin’ motherfuckers. Bunch of biscuit-head bitches whinin’ to me for extra ketchup. Man, fuck that. These people are stupid. You gotta see ‘em Jay. All they do is hang out at the mall everyday, and just walk back and forth all day from Footlocker to Chi-Chi’s, Chi-Chi’s to Footlocker. Yippee. Then they go home and watch Friends and Cops. Those are wack fucking activities Jay. Are you feelin’ me? I don’t really aspire to that in my life, man. I want fuckin’… I want…

I mean, what the hell I wanna be white for? The shit is stupid. ..Look at you, you’re corny, Jay! If I had a choice between bein’ like you-Jay Leno- or Tupac Shakur. Who you think I’ma choose? ..Tupac! I mean ..he’s dead. But at least he went out like a true thug nigga. He’s cool. You? You’re just a dick, Jay. At least Tupac kept it real. Are you even in reality Jay? You just sit there.

[Alas, another interruption.] ..All right, I’m comin’! I gotta go help my moms start her truck. I’m sorry for bustin’ on you Jay. It’s all love, man. You know you my main nigga. But I’ma be back, man. You watchout. And look out for my new album, Montana Gangsta Blood Thugs, Ghetto Rollin’: Comin’ Fo’ That Ass In The Two Gee.

[He exchanges his baseball cap for a Hardees cap, looks at himself for a moment, and then adjusts it into a more favorable position.] Keep it real, Jay. [He exits.]