Read Online The Donor: When Conception Meets Deception by Brother Dash - Free Book Online
Authors: Brother Dash
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He’s the guy that asks you a question but doesn’t wait for your response. And that’s on a good day. He’s also the resident conspiracy theorist, street protester and social media trouble maker. When you combine his, rebel without a cause outrage, with his hot jalapeño personality, he is like a chipmunk with ADHD. All over the place. Today is a chipmunk day. Tanaka jumps and prances with arms flailing about as he describes this latest travesty of musical injustice . Passersby duck away from his theatrics. Chase just sits and sighs with his elbows on knees, and palms mashing his cheeks, enduring the spectacle.
“Chase, are you listening?" Tanaka asks. “Chase…Chase!”
“Huh? Yeah. Dude I'm looking right at you,” Chase replies.
“So why I had to ask you twice? Come on don’t play me out son,” he says.
“I’m listening Naka, sheesh,” Chase says.
”Hmph. Anyway…then you saw what I did next right? You saw me hit that backspin and then freeze. I made the crowd wait for like ten seconds. That’s called a dramatic pause.” Tanaka stops moving.
“Okay, dude you don’t have to actually pause, in order to make your point you know,” Chase says.
"And then…BAM, I dropped Brand Nubian's Slow Down out of like nowhere. Sickness son-son. Sick…Ness right? Wasn’t that sick?”
“Yes. Very diseased, yes,” Chase quips.
“Haha, very cute professor. But my point is, my set was dope. But I got robbed yo. See how they do a brother?”
As the throngs of park visitors and competition attendees continue to file past, a gangly man, with a dark cauliflower beard and butt length dreadlocks, recognizes Tanaka from the competition.
“Eh yo. You’re that DJ?” he says in a Jamaican accent.
“That’s right yo. Big up one time my brother,” Tanaka replies with a hand clasp and an exaggerated brohug .
“Your set was wicked bredren, wicked. ‘Nuff respect,” the stranger says with a pat on his ganja leaf t-shirt and a chin bow. He walks away, up the winding pedestrian path, towards Joralemon Street.
“Ha. See that there? See that?” Tanaka points repeatedly towards the Jamaican fan.
“Why did his cray-cray have to just get validated?” Chase mumbles.
”I heard that. But that’s okay. Keep drinking your haterade. Musical geniuses are always considered crazy. But the people…the people know who won that battle.” He turns his attention back to the dreadlocked stranger who is now lost amongst the crowd in the distance. “That’s right my brother. Irie yo. Irie brethren,” he says, shooting two peace signs high above his black mop of hair…on his tippy toes.
“Dude, you can be so extra. Listen, I wanted to run something by you. I’ve been having this thing on my—“
“Wait. Chase…Is…Is that?” Tanaka squints his eyes down the winding path to their rear. “Yup, that’s her. Yo Lydia…Lydia. Yo, Yo Lydia,” Tanaka yells.
He windshield wipes his arm in the air to get the attention of a dark copper haired woman in two long pigtails. She struggles towards them as she shoulders an overstuffed knapsack while bear hugging a box of supplies.
“Míra. Míra Lydia. Lydia, I know you see me mama. You see me girl. Don’t front. I got something to say to you,” he says pointing.
"Tanaka don't start," Chase says. "Lydia didn't have anything to do with you losing."
“Hey, I didn't lose,” he fires back. “I was robbed ,” he says, index finger to Chase’s nose. “R-O-B—“
“Don’t start spelling stuff. And will you please stop pointing at people,” Chase says.
Lydia approaches the two of them with a scowl and rolls her eyes. She doesn’t wait for Tanaka to speak.
“First of all…thanks for helping a sister with all this shit in her hands. Second of all, don’t you go starting with your diva DJ attitude with me. Every time you compete in one of my shows, and you lose, you gotta stress me out with your complaints. Boo Boo you lost. Deal with it. L-O-S-T, lost,” she
“Chase, are you listening?" Tanaka asks. “Chase…Chase!”
“Huh? Yeah. Dude I'm looking right at you,” Chase replies.
“So why I had to ask you twice? Come on don’t play me out son,” he says.
“I’m listening Naka, sheesh,” Chase says.
”Hmph. Anyway…then you saw what I did next right? You saw me hit that backspin and then freeze. I made the crowd wait for like ten seconds. That’s called a dramatic pause.” Tanaka stops moving.
“Okay, dude you don’t have to actually pause, in order to make your point you know,” Chase says.
"And then…BAM, I dropped Brand Nubian's Slow Down out of like nowhere. Sickness son-son. Sick…Ness right? Wasn’t that sick?”
“Yes. Very diseased, yes,” Chase quips.
“Haha, very cute professor. But my point is, my set was dope. But I got robbed yo. See how they do a brother?”
As the throngs of park visitors and competition attendees continue to file past, a gangly man, with a dark cauliflower beard and butt length dreadlocks, recognizes Tanaka from the competition.
“Eh yo. You’re that DJ?” he says in a Jamaican accent.
“That’s right yo. Big up one time my brother,” Tanaka replies with a hand clasp and an exaggerated brohug .
“Your set was wicked bredren, wicked. ‘Nuff respect,” the stranger says with a pat on his ganja leaf t-shirt and a chin bow. He walks away, up the winding pedestrian path, towards Joralemon Street.
“Ha. See that there? See that?” Tanaka points repeatedly towards the Jamaican fan.
“Why did his cray-cray have to just get validated?” Chase mumbles.
”I heard that. But that’s okay. Keep drinking your haterade. Musical geniuses are always considered crazy. But the people…the people know who won that battle.” He turns his attention back to the dreadlocked stranger who is now lost amongst the crowd in the distance. “That’s right my brother. Irie yo. Irie brethren,” he says, shooting two peace signs high above his black mop of hair…on his tippy toes.
“Dude, you can be so extra. Listen, I wanted to run something by you. I’ve been having this thing on my—“
“Wait. Chase…Is…Is that?” Tanaka squints his eyes down the winding path to their rear. “Yup, that’s her. Yo Lydia…Lydia. Yo, Yo Lydia,” Tanaka yells.
He windshield wipes his arm in the air to get the attention of a dark copper haired woman in two long pigtails. She struggles towards them as she shoulders an overstuffed knapsack while bear hugging a box of supplies.
“Míra. Míra Lydia. Lydia, I know you see me mama. You see me girl. Don’t front. I got something to say to you,” he says pointing.
"Tanaka don't start," Chase says. "Lydia didn't have anything to do with you losing."
“Hey, I didn't lose,” he fires back. “I was robbed ,” he says, index finger to Chase’s nose. “R-O-B—“
“Don’t start spelling stuff. And will you please stop pointing at people,” Chase says.
Lydia approaches the two of them with a scowl and rolls her eyes. She doesn’t wait for Tanaka to speak.
“First of all…thanks for helping a sister with all this shit in her hands. Second of all, don’t you go starting with your diva DJ attitude with me. Every time you compete in one of my shows, and you lose, you gotta stress me out with your complaints. Boo Boo you lost. Deal with it. L-O-S-T, lost,” she
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