(Dazzle) Disk Jockey McDizzle

There’s a café that I frequent for work-related purposes.

That is, of course, my DJ services.

Today the owner of the café has called me in for another one of his live music events. Surely he has requested me for my superior abilities in the art of Disk Jockey-ing. I am a man of many talents.

I walked into the café and saw a group of men huddled around a table. They were all dressed in black suits. As I passed by, their heads turned to my direction and they nodded towards me in acknowledgement. I returned the gesture.

I continued my walk to the backroom and put my equipment-filled suitcase on the table. As I unpacked, I noticed the owner staring at me through the doorway with a grimace, but it was quickly replaced by a smile once he saw my gaze.

“Dazzle! My favourite DJ!” Mr. Scanta exclaimed.

“I am your only DJ, sir.”

“Exactly! Anyways, once it’s 4, you can start to set up your stuff in the usual spot. Please try not to disturb my customers. My workers will set up the rest of the café for this event an hour before it starts. I won’t be here for the event because, as you know, I hate this type of music. Just remember, please do NOT plug too many wires into my outlets. We wouldn't want to make the same mistake as last time,” he trailed off with a slightly sad look on his face.

“Understood.”

“Great! Well, I’ll be on my way!” he patted me on the back twice before he turned to take his leave.

“Wait!” I quickly grabbed his shoulder to stop him. He turned around and raised a brow in question.

“Sir. I was wondering about last week’s shipment. Did you receive my supplies on time?”

The owner’s confused face slowly morphed into a psychotic grin.

“Yes. I did. I guess I’ll have to thank Agent Dazzle for that one, huh?” he winked, placing his hand on my shoulder, and somehow his smile grew wider.

I let out a loud sigh. I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and turned back towards my equipment. I never know what to do when he acts like this.

The event started at exactly 8 pm sharp. There seemed to be more people than last time. I would not be surprised if past guests had recommended this event to their friends. I am possibly the best DJ this city has to offer. Actually, considering I am the only DJ that the owner knows, I am definitely the best DJ in this city.

The lights were turned off as I walked toward my equipment. A large disco ball in the middle of the seating area lowered, and scattered “oohs” and “ahhs” could be heard in the audience. The idle chatter in the room started to die down alongside the jazz music being played through the café speakers.

I plugged my mixer into the two large speakers. A large screeching noise filled the room, but I paid it no attention.

I am about to blow these people’s minds.

I tap my microphone to check that it is working, and another very loud screeching noise comes from the speakers. Some people cover their ears in annoyance, and I’m shot a dirty look from multiple tables in the café. I hit the microphone again and only a tapping sound goes through the speakers.

Perfect. Everything is in the correct place.

I pressed a few buttons on my mixer and a singular beat started to repeat, creating a magnificent sound much like a metronome.

I grabbed the microphone and took a deep breath.

“AYO! HOW’S Y'ALL DOING TONITE?”

My voice reverberated throughout the whole room, I could feel it on my skin. The only response from the audience were scattered claps. One person cheered out loud, but they quickly stopped. I recognized the person as one of my regulars. Must be a fan.

“I GO BY MANY NAMES, BUT TONIGHT I AM DISK JOCKEY MCDIZZLE! I AM HERE TO PLAY SOME SICK BEATS FOR Y’ALL!”

I pressed another button on my mixer and a syncopated beat joined into the current one. I turned a few of dials and the tune started to gain some body. I looked around the room with a smug expression as people started to bop their heads along to the music.

“LETS GET IT Y’ALL!”

I turned yet another dial and the music began to build.

And build.

And build.

My skin buzzed with excitement, and the audience seemed to feel the same way.

People began to stand up and bob up and down to the beat in anticipation for the beat drop. Hands were clapping and the people were cheering. The disco ball changed into the strobe setting and the flashing lights added to the atmosphere.

I did one final scan around the room before the beat drop to make sure everyone was having fun. Everyone seemed to be out of their seats, but in the far right corner, a pretentious-looking man was still seated. He noticed my gaze and scoffed.

No. This will not do. I grabbed my mic.

“AYOOOO IS EVERYONE HAVING FUN RIGHT NOW???”

The crowd roared in response.

“I'M GONNA NEED EVERYONE TO GET UP AND DANCE! THIS BEAT WON'T DROP BY ITSELF!”

The pretentious-looking man shot me a dirty look and mouthed a couple words. Duck Goo? I couldn’t see him clearly due to the flashing lights. Oh well.

Maybe this man is uneducated… Yes. That would make the most sense. Anyone with an IQ over 1 point would be able to appreciate my music. Maybe that explains the odd phrase he tried to say to me. I felt bad for this man, he was clearly trying to appreciate my music. I must drop this beat in his name.

The music was finally hitting its peak. The crowd started to cheer louder.

This is my time to shine.

I turned the final knob on my mixer and grabbed the microphone one last time.

“LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO!”

And thus, the beat dropped.