by Sandra Bazzarelli
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\nA long-suffering white rapper, Mitchell Dunn changed his name to Done Me Wrong and got a record deal.\u00a0 His rhymes were, well, they rhymed, but overall he was more of a pin-up boy with a gravelly voice and uneasy smile than a highly esteemed wordsmith.\u00a0 That is, until he met Maybegirl.<\/p>\n
Maybegirl was a poet.\u00a0 Maybegirl got her name because she looked neither male nor female.\u00a0 Truthfully, the name Maybeboy could have just as easily stuck.\u00a0 But Maybegirl was the name that rolled off the tongues of her tormentors most efficiently.\u00a0 Some guys in the projects teased her, beat her up sometimes for being what they perceived to be a lesbian.\u00a0 But Maybegirl, tucked inside her baggy clothes, baseball cap, and general hip hop gear, wasn\u2019t a lesbian.\u00a0 Maybegirl was just trying to hide.<\/p>\n
Depending on the day, Maybegirl could have up to fifteen poems scrawled on her skin in black ink.\u00a0 The ones she didn\u2019t like she washed off in the shower at night.\u00a0 The ones she did like she traced into herself with the slim pink box cutter that had come in some kiddie pencil case she bought at the local dollar store.
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\nWhile in the city promoting his latest CD, Done Me Wrong made an uncharacteristic stop at the McDonald\u2019s of his youth.\u00a0 As a kid he had frequented the very same McDonald\u2019s because, as a kid, Done Me Wrong had been absolutely fat.\u00a0 The kind of fat only parental neglect and fast food could inspire.\u00a0 Instead of going to school, Done Me Wrong would ride his bike over the bridge and into the city.\u00a0 He\u2019d meet up with a bunch of young wannabe graffiti artists and break dancers who spent the bulk of their school days underground, riding the subway and talking about hip hop.\u00a0 Not one of them had any real talent for anything hip hop related, but they had passion and plenty of time on their hands.\u00a0 Time that was, of course, afforded to them thanks to the lack of adult interest and guidance in their lives.\u00a0 Still, one of them, Rudy Heart, perhaps the biggest hip hop fan of their adolescent group, managed to maintain a full brain\u2019s worth of imagination and business savvy to make use of all that extra time they had.<\/p>\n
Rudy Heart did not fail to notice that his friend, Mitchell Dunn, at only fourteen, already had a presence.\u00a0 He had a quality about him that went far beyond the cloud of tobacco smoke that trailed him.\u00a0 The husky voice that hugged his words managed to transform his soft blue-eyed gaze into a cold menacing stare.\u00a0 Anything he said had an inherent, yet unsettling authority to it.\u00a0 Like a cop.\u00a0 But a filthy one.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen,\u201d he said to Mitchell one afternoon as they devoured French fries by the handful, \u201cI think you could probably rap.\u00a0 Maybe you could be an MC or something.\u00a0 I could be your manager.\u00a0 We could develop you as an artist who has something original to say and then you could just, you know, say it.\u201d<\/p>\n
The rest of the group laughed and threw French fries at Rudy Heart.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s too fuckin\u2019 fat, yo,\u201d one remarked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, man,\u201d said another.\u00a0 \u201cPlus, I ain\u2019t never heard him spit.\u00a0 Not a word.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor real,\u201d said another.\u00a0 \u201cAll he do is talk some bullshit\u2026 and eat.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rudy dug into his knapsack for his magazine.\u00a0 There, on the cover:\u00a0 The Fat Boys.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could be a Fat Boy, but without the jokes.\u00a0 A serious<\/em> Fat Boy,\u201d said\u00a0Rudy Heart sincerely.\u00a0 \u201cYou could speak to people.\u201d<\/p>\n The group of boys laughed themselves off their hard plastic seats, but Mitchell did not laugh.<\/p>\n He left.<\/p>\n Mitchell walked out of McDonald\u2019s that day and never went back.\u00a0 He had decided that, yeah, maybe Rudy Heart had a point.\u00a0 Maybe he could rap.\u00a0 Maybe if he tried.\u00a0 Maybe he had something to say.\u00a0 But in his mind he was more LL Cool J than Fat Boy.\u00a0 He still rode his bike into the city every day, but not to meet up with his friends.\u00a0 He rode his bike into the city for exercise and then back into the suburbs for more.\u00a0 By the time he was sixteen, Mitchell, with the help of puberty, had lost weight, shot up six inches, and turned into Done Me Wrong.\u00a0 He could have just as easily called himself Bitches Wanna Do Me Now, but he wanted something that played on the misfortune his father\u2019s name had brought him.\u00a0 He still smoked, but now, given his imposing physical stature, the smoking appeared less unhealthful on him.\u00a0 And he never drank.\u00a0 Never.\u00a0 His father had done enough of that to fulfill the taste for drink for five, maybe six generations of Dunns to come. \u201cYeah,\u201d he said, \u201clemme get a Big Mac, a large fry, and a large Coke.\u201d<\/p>\n But when the time came to pay, Done Me Wrong realized that he didn\u2019t have any money on him.\u00a0 The truth is, his bodyguard always carried his money for him.\u00a0 But he had left Bugs at the hotel and stepped out on his own today.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what?\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cKeep it.\u00a0 I left my wallet back at the hotel.\u201d<\/p>\n The young girl behind the counter let out a dramatic labored sigh.<\/p>\n \u201cHere,\u201d a small voice said as a slender hand pushed money onto the counter.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks,\u201d Done Me Wrong said, turning quickly to face the owner of the hand.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll pay you back.\u00a0 I just gotta run to my hotel.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cForget it,\u201d Maybegirl responded.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t worry about it.\u00a0 I\u2019m, like, a fan.\u201d \u201cWhy don\u2019t you take off your ball cap?\u201d Done Me Wrong said to Maybegirl, hoping to get a better look at her.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you take off yours?\u201d Maybegirl responded, without looking up from her nuggets.<\/p>\n Their conversation veered from dipping sauces to the Beastie Boys.\u00a0 From bubble down jackets to the crispy original hot apple pie that had been sacrificed so that the overly cinnamon-y soggy one offered at the McDonald\u2019s of late could survive.<\/p>\n \u201cThey still got \u2019em in Europe though,\u201d said Done Me Wrong.\u00a0 \u201cThe original ones without the slats.\u00a0 My bodyguard, Bugs, had one in Italy last week.\u00a0 Europeans don\u2019t worry about burnin\u2019 their fuckin\u2019 tongues like we do. \u00a0They know how to eat.\u00a0 Plus,\u201d he added, \u201cthey don\u2019t fuckin\u2019 sue when they don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n Both Done Me Wrong and Maybegirl laughed.<\/p>\n \u201cYou didn\u2019t have one while you were there?\u201d asked Maybegirl.\u00a0 \u201cFor, like, old school\u2019s sake?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNah,\u201d said Done Me Wrong.\u00a0 \u201cI gotta watch the pounds and shit.\u00a0 I gotta work out or else I blow up real fast.\u00a0 My old man\u2019s the same.\u00a0 At least he was last time I seen him.\u00a0 He\u2019s a fat fuck, that one.\u00a0 Real fuckin\u2019 fat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m fat too,\u201d said Maybegirl sheepishly.<\/p>\n \u201cNah,\u201d said Done Me Wrong.\u00a0 \u201cYou ain\u2019t fat.\u00a0 You just layered as fuck, girl.\u00a0 How many layers you rockin\u2019?\u00a0 It ain\u2019t even that cold out.\u201d<\/p>\n Maybegirl smiled and looked Done Me Wrong squarely in his eyes.\u00a0 He had addressed her as girl<\/em> without asking first.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s your name, anyway?\u201d asked Done Me Wrong.<\/p>\n Maybegirl had seen his face in magazines.\u00a0 Seen him in his videos.\u00a0 She could hardly believe she was sitting across from him right now.\u00a0 And he regarded her as a girl without having to be told what she was.\u00a0 He was sure.\u00a0 This made her sure.\u00a0 She could hardly believe she had the opportunity to tell him what she had been wanting to tell him for years.<\/p>\n \u201cMy name\u2019s Maybegirl,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cAnd your rhymes are shit.\u00a0 Some of the worst I\u2019ve ever heard. \u00a0Like, the worst.\u201d<\/p>\n Done Me Wrong stared at Maybegirl incredulously.<\/p>\n \u201cFor real,\u201d she added.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you said you was a fan,\u201d Done Me Wrong replied.<\/p>\n \u201cI am,\u201d said Maybegirl.<\/p>\n \u201cSo you\u2019re a fan of shit then?\u201d asked Done Me Wrong, trying to contain his frustration.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m a fan of yours.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot my rhymes,\u201d said Done Me Wrong.<\/p>\n \u201cNot your rhymes,\u201d said Maybegirl. \u201cYo,\u201d Done Me Wrong said into his phone in the same authoritative tone he always used, regardless of whether or not he had any actual authority.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat up, Fat Boy?\u201d said Rudy Heart.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s been a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n Within moments of their first meeting in Rudy Heart\u2019s plush Upper East Side office, Done Me Wrong felt immediately humbled.<\/p>\n \u201cSo,\u201d said Rudy Heart, \u201cthe problem is your rhymes are shit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, well,\u201d said Done Me Wrong, \u201cshit or not, my rhymes is sellin\u2019 all kinds of other shit and I ain\u2019t gettin\u2019 shit in return.\u00a0 Turn on your fuckin\u2019 television, Rudy.\u00a0 You\u2019ll see what I\u2019m talkin\u2019 about.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve already seen,\u201d said Rudy.\u00a0 \u201cAnd I\u2019m not surprised.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m<\/em> surprised,\u201d said Done Me Wrong.<\/p>\n \u201cAgain,\u201d said Rudy, \u201cI\u2019m not surprised.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m still here,\u201d said Done Me Wrong, looking down at his fifteen hundred dollar pair of sneakers.<\/p>\n \u201cGood,\u201d said Rudy Heart.\u00a0 \u201cBut you aren\u2019t going to be invited to stay unless the people can connect with you.\u00a0 You get what I\u2019m saying?\u00a0 They<\/em> have to get what you\u2019re saying.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI get what you\u2019re sayin\u2019,\u201d said Done Me Wrong.<\/p>\n \u201cGood,\u201d replied Rudy Heart, throwing Done Me Wrong a nod toward the door.\u00a0 \u201cNow get the fuck out of here and go write something real.\u00a0 If I\u2019m going to get you your bloody tampon money,\u201d he laughed, \u201cI have to get to work here.\u00a0 I have to get on it.\u201d\u00a0 Trying to stifle more laughter, he added, \u201cI\u2019ve got to get on the rag for you, homey.\u201d \u201cOhmigod!\u00a0 Ohmigod!\u201d she heard two teenage girls squeal as they entered the bathroom.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t believe Done Me Wrong signed my arm!\u00a0 I\u2019m never gonna wash it,\u201d screeched one.<\/p>\n \u201cHe is soooooooo hot,\u201d exclaimed the other.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m gonna go get him and bring him in here so I can blow him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust blow him?\u201d asked the one in mock disbelief.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m gonna go ask him if he wants to fuck the shit outta me.\u201d<\/p>\n The girls burst out in a fit of giddy giggles.<\/p>\n Maybegirl could tell that they were only half joking. \u201cMaybegirl,\u201d said Done Me Wrong softly.\u00a0 \u201cI been lookin\u2019 for you.\u201d<\/p>\n Once again Maybegirl looked Done Me Wrong in his eyes.\u00a0 Only this time, she had to look up from under her baseball cap, and he had to look down from under his.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy were you looking for me?\u201d she asked, just as the small crowd of his female fans had begun to disperse.<\/p>\n \u201cThe thing is,\u201d Done Me Wrong replied, \u201cI think I need your help.\u201d<\/p>\n Maybegirl shuffled her feet a bit.\u00a0 She wore sneakers too, but the cheap ones.\u00a0 Cheaper ones.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d said Maybegirl, \u201cI think I might need your help too.\u201d<\/p>\n Done Me Wrong nodded his head and steadily observed the small sad figure standing in front of him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what I think, girl?\u201d said Done Me Wrong.\u00a0 \u201cI think you might need my help first<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n Then, to both the surprise of Done Me Wrong and Maybegirl alike, Maybegirl began to weep.\u00a0 Done Me Wrong, without hesitating, reached out to Maybegirl and pulled her toward him.\u00a0 With his arms around her, at first, he couldn\u2019t feel her inside all those layers.\u00a0 He had to keep squeezing until he actually found her in there.\u00a0 When he finally did, he was relieved.<\/p>\n \u201cIn case you don\u2019t already know,\u201d he said, holding her close to him, his chin resting on top of her head, \u201cMitchell.\u00a0 My real name\u2019s Mitchell.\u201d<\/p>\n Then, into his chest, Maybegirl, feeling safe and loved and understood for the first time in her life whispered, \u201cGregory.\u201d by Sandra Bazzarelli A long-suffering white rapper, Mitchell Dunn changed his name to Done Me Wrong and got a record deal.\u00a0 His rhymes were, well, they rhymed, but overall he was more of a pin-up boy with a gravelly voice … Continue reading
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\nDone Me Wrong filed into the McDonald\u2019s line alone, just ahead of Maybegirl.\u00a0 This was his first time back at this spot since he was a kid.\u00a0 He cautiously approached the counter.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t want to be recognized.\u00a0 He was a star, after all, despite what the critics thought of him.<\/p>\n
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\nAcross from one another Done Me Wrong and Maybegirl sat at a window table with their respective trays in front of them.<\/p>\n
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\nDone Me Wrong\u2019s latest CD was a terrific flop.\u00a0 His record label dropped him and stopped taking his calls.\u00a0 His girlfriend dumped him for an American Idol runner\u2013up.\u00a0 One by one his past hits began appearing in television commercials without his permission.\u00a0 He couldn\u2019t do anything about it.\u00a0 The suits owned them.\u00a0 They had thrown him away because they didn\u2019t need him anymore.\u00a0 The songs, on the other hand, provided a very different narrative.\u00a0 Those they needed.\u00a0 Tampons, cars, and orange juice, they all needed Done Me Wrong\u2019s hits.\u00a0 Done Me Wrong, in a panic to save his career, his money, and what was left of his credibility, dropped his management team immediately and got on the horn with a man who had become the most successful music mogul in the business.<\/p>\n
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\nMaybegirl was well aware of Done Me Wrong\u2019s troubled times, but not having asked for Done Me Wrong\u2019s number, and having not been asked for hers, Maybegirl had left their McDonald’s afternoon together with nothing more than a handshake and a polite thank you for lunch.\u00a0 She had offended him, Maybegirl figured.\u00a0 She had offended Done Me Wrong by telling him his rhymes were shit.
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\n\u201cListen,\u201d said Rudy Heart, \u201cI know you\u2019re probably used to being told how fucking awesome you are but, I\u2019m telling you, if we\u2019re going to fix this we have to be straight with one another.\u00a0 Your writing doesn\u2019t cut it.\u00a0 You\u2019re not saying anything.\u00a0 Nobody cares.\u00a0 Being good looking and in good shape isn\u2019t enough.\u00a0 Not anymore.\u00a0 Where\u2019s the substance?\u00a0 Where\u2019d you go, man?\u201d<\/p>\n
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\nMaybegirl had not written a poem in two days.\u00a0 She was beginning to feel anxious.\u00a0 Into the McDonald\u2019s bathroom she went with her pink box cutter.\u00a0 Sitting on the toilet, her thighs exposed to her, Maybegirl set out to carve into herself without first writing a poem upon herself in her favored black ink.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t have the words at the moment, just the need.\u00a0 With the pink box cutter, Maybegirl cut a deep heart the size of a dime into the fleshiest part of her left thigh.\u00a0 Blood gushed forth immediately.\u00a0 She breathed heavily and held a wad of toilet paper over the wound.\u00a0 Then, reaching into one of her many pockets, Maybegirl pulled out a small stack of gauze pads and a roll of surgical tape.\u00a0 Quickly replacing the toilet paper with the gauze pads and throwing it into the toilet water under her, Maybegirl applied pressure to the wound with one hand.\u00a0 Finally, with her other hand and her teeth, Maybegirl cut two long strips of surgical tape and stretched them over the gauze pads in an X formation to secure them.<\/p>\n
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\n\u201cHey,\u201d Maybegirl said, standing to Done Me Wrong\u2019s right as he signed female body parts and posed for pictures on the sidewalk.<\/p>\n
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\nSANDRA BAZZARELLI<\/strong> is a singer\/songwriter and writing instructor from Bergen County, New Jersey. She earned her BA in Literature and Writing from Columbia University, and her MA in English Education from NYU. The more healthful her eating habits become, the more McDonald\u2019s crops up in her writing.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"