The Self-Appointed Rapper

He popped onto your screen

Uninvited

And before your scared fingers

Flicked another channel

You saw his T-shirt –shirt clothes

A big chain strangling his neck

But the voice, my God!

Cracked, noisy, husky

Your one hand cupped your ears

The other one was busy with the remote control

Then you heard it:

Raunchy lyrics, suggestive gestures

The rapper’s hand always rested at the crotch

Your timid eyes perched on your ten-year-old daughter

She was at the edge of her seat, tapping her feet

Savouring every minute of rapper’s theatrics

The boy’s lips were moving along with it

The rapper’s audience

“Dad, I’d like my boobs to be tattooed like those ones!”

“Next time I demand the bling blings!”

“Aren’t those underpants just gorgeous!”

You sat tight

You were torn between taking a bull-whip and

Scolding for I-don’t-know-what reason

It was after much soul-searching and

Nerve-wracking

That you sold the 21-inch TV set

To restore old peace, you said.

C) Lorot Salem 2010