When I was quite young, ten or eleven maybe, I decided to write a book. It was a war story. More of an epic really. And by epic, I mean short story. Think Combat meets GI Joe.
I don't remember much about the book. Not surprisingly. It was never published. I do remember there were like three main characters. In one chapter they had gotten separated from their company. And one of them got killed. I titled that chapter, "Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad."
The dialogue went something like this:
"He didn't make it, sir."
"Well, two out of three ain't bad."
"This is nothing to joke about!"
"Relax, Henderson. He was just trying to lighten the mood."
Umm... yeah. I also tried to illustrate the book. Whatever you may think of my writing-- good, bad, or indifferent. Let there be no doubt. I am not an illustrator. That's probably the main reason it never got published. Well, that and the fact that I never finished it. Cause let's face it, my dialogue was impeccable.
I also had a short-lived rap career. Long before Eminem. Even before Vanilla Ice. The year was 1987. The Beastie Boys "Fight For Your Right" was huge. So in Home Ec, (hey, it was either pay to take VoAg or take Home Ec for free) DNC, Hollywood, and I wrote raps. Is that the correct terminology? We busted lyrics. Composed def jams. There. That's better. We had one of those Bic four-color pens. So we were able to color-code each of our parts in each rap. It was pretty high-tech. Unfortunately, I don't remember any of these early classics of the genre. I just remember using the words juice, jammy, and girlies a lot.
And yes, in case you're wondering, I can truthfully make the following declaration: My name is Bone. And I have sewn a pair of Jam shorts. And worn them. In public.
I knew what the girlies liked.
"I'm like a lemon to a lime. A lime to a lemon. Sippin' def ale with all the fine women..."