[Editor's note: Odd Future member Lionel Boyce writes a weekly column for West Coast Sound. His archives are available here.]
There was a brief period, a few months back, where I disappeared from my everyday life. Neither my family nor friends had any idea of my whereabouts. What happened was that I started a dubstep cult.
As unlikely as it may seem, I am one of the greatest dubsteppers on the face of this planet. But few people have actually witnessed my unbelievable moves because I move so fast that nobody's eyes can keep up -- they can't comprehend what they've just seen.
One time a guy's neck just exploded.
My original intentions were not to start a cult; in fact, how the cult came to be was very unusual. I was in line at Target, buying lotion and chips when I got a phone call. I didn't feel like answering it, so I just let it ring.
My ringtone was a Skrillex remix to "Going In for the Kill" by La Roux, and although everyone around me seemed to be annoyed by the song, there was one guy behind me in line busting out some serious moves. As he continued to dance, people began to smile, chant and cheer him on.
Then I realized that the guy dancing was my homie Big Cam. I asked him if he would be interested in starting a dubstep crew, and he was excited about the idea. We went around the city dubstepping on random corners and alleyways for hours at a time.
Within a week we were a local phenomenon. We were given the nicknames Envelope and Cheese Gritz, which still makes no sense. People came to us to learn how to do the dance, and we gladly took them under our wings. Since there were so many people and we needed a place to teach everyone, we decided to rent a house.
Some claimed that our training methods were crazy or irrational, but if you were able to keep up, you could potentially be considered a legend in the dubstep world.
I became so consumed with the teachings that neither myself nor any of the students left the house for five weeks. We didn't feel the need to eat food or sleep too often because we were surviving off of smoking crack. On average, we would be stepping for 18 hours a day, every day.
But the shit hit the fan when police got a tip that there was a 13-year-old kid who was missing for three weeks, staying at our house. They came in and arrested everyone in the house.
Luckily, I got away because I was taking a shit at the Sizzler's bathroom down the street. Unfortunately, Cam was taken to a mental institution due to him thinking he was Wesley Snipes in the movie Blade. -L-Boy
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