Conversation · Egg Head

"Yeah, I'm a major Eyck-head."

"Wow!"

The skinny wraith looks at you with some disbelief.

"So am I! SO AM I!" He begins to shake his head so everyone would understand.

"Oh!" Andre almost falls over backward from the realization. "Is that why they call you Egg Head, because..."

"Eyck-Head to the mega! The K became the G! The boy became the man!"

"Your friend Acele mentioned him."

"Good, good."

"YeaaaaaaGH!"

"The Y to the E to the A to the A to the A to the A to the A to the G to the H to the exclamation mark..."

"YeaaaaaGH!"

He missed one 'A'!

"You missed an 'A' there. I yelled mine with six 'A'-s, so you have to yell it with six too."

"I'm the hard rhymer, the track attacker, the mic enforcer, the six checker! I am the law!"

"You missed an 'A' there, but that's okay. I'm a pretty lenient cop."

"It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice!"

Or maybe it's not Gottwaldian, maybe it's Oranjese -- probably an homage to Oranje, where Arno van Eyck is from, judging by his name. Could you be listening to an Arno van Eyck creation right now?

"Yeaaaah!"

"Lakierski materialski!"

"You can yeah and say random things all day long, but the track still doesn't sound all that hard to me."

"Spinning out lyrics since the day I was born."

"And the amount of lyrics I got is against the law!"

Still say nothing.

"HARD CORE TO THE MEGA!"

Say nothing.

"INTERNALLY COHERENT!"

"I was wondering if you knew who killed the mercenary hanging behind the Whirling-in-Rags hostel?"

"Good morning, yeah! One, two, three! Yekokataa, the place to be!"

"Why is this Yekokataa the place to be? What does that mean?"

"Yekokataa is a hard core place!"

An intricate system of irrigation networks pockmarking the earth, intermittent seas of phosphorous mud, ripped tarpaulin fluttering in the wind... A pair of molten rubber boots also comes to mind. All in all -- a truly hard core place.

"Yekokataa" is an abbreviation from the Graadian term "Zone of Ecological Catastrophe," an agricultural megaproject in the extreme south east of the Graadian isola. It involved cutting-edge approaches to irrigation and a completely new type of fertilizer.

"I am beginning to think this really doesn't have anything to do with the case."

"It's the message so listen and you will see. No illusion, the spirit is what you feel!"

Still say nothing.

"ALL CORE! ALL RIGHT! YEAH!"

Say nothing.

He furrows his brow as his very large head traces the sublime invisible movement of the music in the very real air of the stuffy tent...

"HAAAAAAARD COOORE!!! AAAAAAAIGHH!!!" He lets out an agonized roar over the feeble-ish, obviously not too hard core beat below.

"No, but seriously... I'm a little worried it isn't."

"The question is, what is the question?"

"Just answer the question!"

"But there was no question..."

"That would have been good, if I had asked you a question. But I didn't. Now it's just idiotic."

"But there was a question..."

"SO HARD CORE!"

"Is it, though?" He stops dead in his tracks, tilting his head to the side.

"IT IS!"

"But is it? I mean, really?" He tilts his head to the other side, like an owl.

"THE QUESTION IS, WHAT IS THE QUESTION?!"

"No, but seriously... I'm a bit worried it isn't." He frowns, then starts bobbing his head back and forth once more.

The skin on your back is crawling. For a second you can't even hear the music anymore.

There is a hawthorn tree on Rue de Saint-Ghislaine, right next to the canal.

Don't be alarmed! Everything is okay. He isn't actually worried. Everything is still super hard core! What he probably means is -- it could be even more so!

"I was thinking that too!"

"I am the mic enforcer, I am the chicks checker, YEAGH!"

Feels like you should reply with the very pinnacle of idiocy here, so that things get totally transcendent. But you haven't gotten there yet, so you don't know what to say.

"I don't know what to say exactly..."

"Under the radar, OVER THE TOP!"

"I was just thinking that a moment ago!"