[MY ADIDAS] OPEN!

[WIKVAYA HAKAN WAYA]

The sound of a loud boom echoed through the cafeteria as rain cascaded from the sky outside. It was a gloomy day, and those always signified boredom. Wikvaya, commonly known around the asylum as Wikkid, was sitting at the cafeteria table. It was nothing exciting, really. In a fraction of a second, his once straight posture slouched, and his forehead was against the table- which, by the way, caused his Lakers hat to hit the ground with a light “thud.” He was alone, for the moment in time… and only a moment. Sade was running around being happy or some shit, Rip was guarding some skanky hoe in the asylum for sex addiction and some other shit Wikkid really didn’t care about, and well… his daughter was supposed to be helping out the guards with some shit. That honestly didn’t last long, though, since the girl had separation anxiety. She’d always run back and forth between helping the guards and annoying her dad, but, what are daughters for, eh?

The sound of boots entering the room ricocheted off the white walls, and the male turned his head slightly to see his seventeen year old daughter in the room. “Hey Daddy!” The girl called out before skipping over to the table and plopping down next to him. Before a response could even be made, the girl whipped out a black permanent marker and began drawing designs on the male’s left arm. “Ayyye Baby Gi--… what the fuck? Get the fuck off me.” The male moved his arm slightly in the opposite direction, too lazy to make any real effort. The girl giggled, and continued to draw on him- and of course it was shit like flowers and butterflies, all the stuff that neither of the individuals really cared for… but hell, it was Dima. Of course she’d draw something he didn’t like. “Don’ be drawin’ no fuckin’ dicks an’ shit. That shit needta be drawn on that ma’fuckin’…It don’ matter- jus’ don’ be drawin’ that shit on me, a’ight?” The girl, who rolled her eyes at the words, gave a slight grin, “Yeahhh. I’m pretty sure I’ll save that for like, Frankie or Roland.” She said, in a more serious tone.

The male watched his daughter for a moment before lifting his head from the table with a yawn. “Ain’t chu’ ‘sposed ta’ be helpin’ them stupid ma’fuckers or somethin’?” The male asked, glancing around the room for a moment. The girl shrugged her shoulders simply and began to write “Dima loves you” on the male’s arm. “Actuallyyyy… I was helpin’ out Uncle Rip, today… but he asked me to get him a cupcake and Day isn’t in here- so I don’t think he’d want me to ask you to make one…” A snicker escaped from Wikkid’s lips at the words, glancing towards the kitchen area before back towards his daughter. “Hey… I doubt he’d be wantin’ my unskilled ass makin’ some shit in the fuckin’… oven thing. I ‘unno how ta’ make that shit wid’out burnin’ the fuckin’ shit.” There was a momentary pause before the male continued, “Speakin’ of some fuckin’ pastries…”

Before he could finish, the girl placed the cap on the marker and began to walk towards the “staff only” kitchen area of the cafeteria. Wikkid glanced at the girl before back down at his arm, shaking his head slightly at the drawings. Hah… he really couldn’t even fathom how fast his daughter grew up. It only felt like the previous day where he was holding his new-born daughter in his arms- at only sixteen. Yeahhh. He had to grow up a lot, then. Hell, he remained a stoner and drank occasionally, but in all honesty, he thought he did a pretty good job raising his kid. At the same time, though, he did have issues disciplining her as of her teenage years- but that was only because he was a softy when it came to her. He pretty much let her do whatever she wanted, but his brother? Hah… right. Ryan wasn’t the type to let her just get away with it- he was basically her second father… and Wikvaya appreciated all the help he got from the guy.

After hearing doors open and close in the other room, a grin slathered on the male’s face as his daughter walked out the kitchen. “Ahhh shiiiittttt. You’s the best.” A snicker escaped his lips as a grape Faygo and a box of poptarts was placed on the table in front of him. “You be knowin’ me all too well, Baby Girl.” The male grinned towards his daughter as he opened up the Faygo. “Mhmmm… But Daddy, you do realize it’s raining today, right?” The male rose a brow for a moment before groaning slightly at the thought. “Ahhhh shit… Man, you still be rememberin’ that fuckin’ shit?” He groaned again, and his daughter cast out a sinister grin with a soft giggle soon after. “Why the hell wouldn’t I?”

See, what went down happened three years prior to the current. Wikkid, in an attempt to make his daughter happy after some issues went down… which was mainly whenever Wikkid and his sister, Nizhoni, were staying at the asylum and Namid was living with her grandparents [and her “Uncle” every now and then] and going to school still in Detroit. Namid would always call crying and wanting to live with him, but that couldn’t happen until she turned sixteen because her grandparents wanted her to at least attempt an education. Now, for every holiday and almost every weekend, Namid was with her dad, which was a shitload of money to go back and forth. Anyways, one time when her dad had called her, it was raining on the island, and the sun was as bright as the outfit Wikkid currently had on in Detroit. So, basically to make a long story short, Wikkid started doing stupid little poetic rhymes, and before either of the Wayas’ knew it, every time it rained- Wikkid would do the same. Soon the whole joke about it turned into a promise, and voilà… it became an “every rainy day on the island” thing. In other words, every time it rained, almost everything Wikkid said was at least a rhyming couplet in some way. The things a dad does to make his daughter happy…

Silence fell over the room as Wikkid screwed the cap back on the Faygo, and pulled a packet of poptarts out the box. He glanced to Dima for a moment, pulled the wrapper off of the food, and a grin slightly spread against his lips before turning his eyes back to the poptart. “Sweet lil’ fuckin’ pastry… you be lookin’ so God damn tasty.” The grin grew slightly as he took a bite of the poptart, shaking his head as his daughter giggled. “Pastry and tasty don’t rhyme, Dad…” The male scoffed slightly at her words, and glanced at her momentarily, “I ain’t no ma’fuckin’ Cat in the Hat. I jus’ spit my shit like I’m in fuckin’ combat.” The male held out the poptart to his daughter, who broke a piece off and tossed it in her mouth. “Touché…” The girl said simply, a giggle escaping her lip as she bent over and picked up her father’s hat, placing it back on his head. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to think of rhyming words, now, Daddy.”

The male flashed a slight glare towards his kid, shaking his head unconsciously. “Bitch, get ta’ steppin’. You can’t diss what this Detroit boy be reppin’.” A giggle escaped the girl’s lips as she kissed her dad on the cheek and stood up from the table. “I’m going to go help Unc’ some more… I’ll be back soon.” The smile reappeared as the girl began to skip out the room. “Yeah you always be around- like a ma’fuckin’ kangaroo hoppin’ up an’ down.” And before the girl exited, more giggles escaped her lips. Now, sure, since she was gone of course he could just go about his business as he normally would- no rhyming and all that, but… he didn’t like that. That seemed dishonest to him, and hell, he made a promise to his kid and it made her happy… so he’d fuckin’ fulfill it.

After about ten minutes of pure boredom and solitude, the male stood up from the table, grabbed the Faygo and poptart box, and moved out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. Wikkid’s feet dragged the ground as he walked, and underneath his gigantic clothes, that were about two sizes too big, his boxers were visible. In other words, his shirt actually hanged below his crotch, and his shorts, which were slacking slightly instead of being in the correct position, were a few inches below his knees. As the male took a bite of his poptart, it was almost like his life flashed before his eyes. A piece of the pastry broke off and in only a split second, although it seemed like forever to the male who was seeing all of this in slow motion, the poptart piece exploded against the ground. Of course it was Wikkid and his poptart, so the matter of blowing this whole thing out of the water was already coming about.

A look of sheer terror seemed to roll across his lips as he stared down at the poptart for a moment, before he shook his head in a more upset manner. “Why this shit gotta’ always be happenin’ to me… can’t the Big Man jus’ leave my poptart be?” The male mumbled to himself. See, he did it so often that talking in rhymes were basically first nature to him… Of course he’d rapped here and there back in the day, but it was obviously nothing real serious… Rip was more of the lyrical mastermind- Wikkid just always came up with the funny shit. His eyes, which were still on the poptart morsel laying so helplessly against the cold ground, ripped away from the item as he forced himself to move on. Like said, he took his poptarts way out of hand… but his Faygo? Shit… if you thought the poptart epidemic was bad, you’ve obviously never seen the man with his Faygo. For example, one time when his Faygo spilt in his home, he literally got on the floor, soaked the shit up with a sponge, and began sucking on the sponge… because it was apparently that good and he obviously didn’t want to waste a drop…

WORD COUNTxx
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OUTFITxx
^here.
TAGxx
^opennn
LYRICSxx
^{my adidas by run d.m.c.}
NOTESxx
^{x3 someone join, yes?}