Drillmington: Drilladelphia

“We’re live in the studio with the gentlemen. Philly, Delaware connection going on here,” Sir Caan talked to the camera. TSL stayed in the booth laying down his lyrics into the microphone. He exited where a fire extinguisher should have been used as he burned down the booth with his bars.

It dawned on TSL that this collaboration would mean better relations between the two cities.

“Top Shelf here. We’re doing this for both cities. It’s a reunion even though we were never on a song together, we have history in these streets.”

Sir Caan then pulled out an Uzi and waved at the camera. “This is for my opps just in case any of you want to get cute,” he said.

TSL senses intensified. He talked to the videographer after Sir Caan had left.

“Hey that footage, can you edit or delete where he shows the gun?”

“I was live the whole time. Hundreds of thousands of people are posting pictures and emojis and comments.”

TSL felt a heat engulf his spirit. It was a searing sense of what he could not control. He tore out of the session. He approached Sir Caan in the street outside of the studio.

“Hey, Caan! The video was true. But, could you do a PSA letting people know the weapon is legal and in your name?”

Sir Caan gave a dry cackle. “This isn’t my gun. I’m using it from one of my padres back in Philly.”

“You are aware of the penalties for having a gun that’s not registered to you, right?”

Sir Caan kissed his teeth.”Man, you’re cool. But are you some kind of cop or something?”

He wanted to scream, to shout that he was a Private I. It became evident to him that this was a time to lie.

“Of course not. I’m saying for your own safety and freedom.”

“You’re alright, Top,” he said. “You’re looking out for me. I can record something tomorrow and let it be known how I’m goong to find the rightful owner of the gun. Good looks,” Sir Caan observed. TSL’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Alright, we’re cool on that?”

“Yes, everything’s chilled,” Sir Caan reassured.

TSL felt in his mind a coolness now. He kept his cool as well. He wanted to get out of this situation.

“We’re okay, though,” Sir Caan said. He dapped TSL.

“Alright. We’re going to shoot the video in a week thanks to the company. We’re going to be on the Web with a production budget.”

“Great. Good. No, we’ll meet up, Top.”

TSL reached out to Julisia at Casprittis. He called after ordering a hoagie. Then, gunshots rang out. He ducked. He knew the short, steady burst of an Uzi.

“Goddamnit!”

He grabbed his phone and turned on the video chat.

“Jul’, I’ll call you back,” he commented.

“Alright. Is everything alright, though?”

“I’m checking right now. I’m hanging up.”

He dialed the police.

“What is your emergency?”

“Yes, Philadelphia rapper, Trenton “Sir Caan” Batten is currently engaged in a shootout with an unknown suspect. He has a weapon that is not in his name. The street was crowded but the crowd dispersed upon hearing the shots fired. He should be arrested for this bit of force that he has used.”

The snitching enlivened TSL. He considered the toddler that was grazed on the top of her head and the father who caught a slug in his arm. That’s why he looked at Sir Caan in the face. With a straight face, Sir Caan looked and then smiled with fists in cuffs.

“We’re going to do that video. It’s okay.”

“We’re going to see.”