“Hey honey,” Kanye said with a smile, adjusting the golden suit jacket he was wearing. He’d picked it up from Goodwill the day prior, at the request of his daughter. Wear something a little more humble, she had begged, at least for my birthday. He was reluctant at first, staring at her as he contemplated his options. Yes, it was her birthday and doing something special would be somewhat polite. But, on the other hand, he had a reputation to keep up. If the public saw him wearing the clothes of the less fortunate, then what would happen? It would be chaos, anarchy in the streets. He knew the kind of power he held, the responsibility his fashion choice dictated. Plus, humble wasn’t exactly easy for a legend like Kanye West, a man who literally defined a generation and saved culture from an otherwise violent demise. Yet, in the end, he realized he’d do anything for North, even if that meant being humble for one whole day.
He’d purchased the jacket for just $13.75, making it the least expensive thing he’d bought since early 2003. Even when he stopped by McDonalds to pretend to eat anything other than Alaskan King Crab claws cooked in pure truffle oil, he refuse to pay for anything on the dollar menu at standard price. Sure, to a mortal it might be a dollar for some Chicken McNuggets, but not to Kanye West. Not to the man who saved music from a death akin to Apartheid. Kanye only purchased those same McNuggets at $137 per nugget, and at his own god damn request. If it wasn’t expensive, then it wasn’t on his menu.
He stumbled upon the jacket while wandering through the Goodwill, his hand covering his mouth to avoid tainting his lungs with mortal air. It was the first thing he saw, a brown, tweed coat that looked identical to the one every single high school teacher wore while contemplating how comparatively little they did for the world. It was perfect, ideal for his mission. He purchased it on the spot and went straight to his tailor, forcing the man to coat the entire thing in gold flake so as to give it a bit of flair. If he was going to be humble, then he was sure as hell going to make humble look good. Sure, it was a bit heavier afterward, but he was a strong guy. He knew he could carry it.
“What is that?” North said, staring at his humble outfit. He knew it was down to earth, casual, and smart. He’d designed it himself, made it to fit in with the common folk, the mortals that walked in his presence. She was clearly proud, her face locked in place as her jaw drooped toward the ground, obviously in awe of how humble he had become.
“It’s my jacket,” Kanye said, running his hand down the fine, yet rough material, flakes of gold chipping off and spiraled toward the ground. “I got it from Goodwill.” He contemplated mentioning that he might have made a few minor adjustments, but didn’t feel like it was necessary. That would be bragging, after all, and a humble person like he would never do such a thing.
“Is that gold?” North said, her eyebrows raised slightly in what was probably respect.
“Sure is,” Kanye said. “The entire jacket is coated in a layer of gold. Cost well over $200,000.” He smiled, knowing he’d managed to humbly address the issue of cost without bragging.
“Why did you do that?” North said, glancing in both directions as if looking for someone.
“Just to add my own flair.” The poor, modestpeople of the world tended to make alterations to their clothes, like stitching buttons on and repairing seams. Kanye knew he’d done basically the same thing, only instead of fixing a hole, he’d coated his jacket in hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of gold. There was essentially no difference between the two.
“And what the hell are you wearing on your legs?” North said, her eyes sliding down toward his pants. So she did notice—he wasn’t sure if she’d pick up on his humble leggings.
“Just some pants I had made out of an endangered albino rhinoceros.” He was particularly proud of this decision, to have the tailor put together some one-of-a-kind pants using only third-world animals. If anything was humble, it was utilizing the materials of the less-fortunate to make an outfit.
“I just wanted you to be modest, Dad. That’s it. I just wanted to be able to walk down the street without you stopping to tell strangers that you’re a ‘modern version of Jesus, except more handsome and talented.’ Why can’t you just do that?”
“Wait, what?” Kanye said, adjusting the watch he’d purchased as humbly as possible. Normally he tried to haggle on the price a little bit, stating that he refused to pay a mere $125,000 for such a Breitling—it should be well over $300,000.00, and that he’d pay no less than $600,000. Yet, to be as modest and decent as possible, he accepted the watch at retail price, hardly even mentioning that he’d wear it once before tossing it in the garbage. Like all average folk, he relished in the great discount price he was offered.
“You’re not being humble,” North said, sighing. “That guy over there, he’s humble.” She pointed toward a man on the opposite end of the street. He was a short man, maybe five-foot-four, wearing a typical working class, casual outfit. Black polo shirt, blue jeans, and some white sneakers, a large bald spot in the middle of his head reflecting the sun.
“That guy?” Kanye said, his head twisted toward man. He looked like an asshole, clearly trying to one-up Kanye. What kind of a dick would come to his neighborhood, on his daughter’s birthday, and try to make a fool of Kanye West? Did he not know what Kanye had done for society? What he’d done for the world? Without him, there would be no future. There would be no hope. What was this douche doing? What had he accomplished in his life? Nothing, not a god damned thing.
“Yes,” North said. “That’s humble.”
Kanye turned the rest of the way toward the man, his body shaking with rage, and began running at him, his feet pounding the pavement as he moved. He hadn’t run in such a long time, his feet stumbling at first—it simply wasn’t a necessary thing for people like him. He could hire others to run on his behalf. Yet when his name was being tarnished, when his daughter was being tricked into finding more motivation in a stranger than he, that called for special occasion.
“You fuck,” Kanye shouted, colliding with the man’s back and tackling him to the ground. Kanye landed on top, their two bodies becoming intertwined. He lifted his fist in the air and brought it down onto the man’s face. “You think you’re more humble than me?” he shrieked, punching blindly. “I’m the most humble person on this fucking planet! I am more humble than your entire family combined! I set the standard for humble, how dare you test me!” The man squirmed slightly under him, his body shaking with each blow, until he finally stopped moving.
Kanye sat back up, his fists throbbing and bloody from his average, humble beating. He was just like a typical citizen, fighting for respect by getting his hands dirty. It felt nice to be regular, although he knew he wouldn’t make a habit of it. He smiled, glancing back over toward North. She was staring at him, her mouth agape in what was clearly approval, before she turned and walked back into their home.
You nailed celebrity-hood right on the head with this one; I’m sharing it on my blog first thing Monday morning on thewriteedgewritingworkshop.wordpress.com
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