“Blue,” R. Kelly commands.
His mirror lights turn a deep shade of ocean blue.
“Red,” R. Kelly commands.
His mirror lights turn a deep shade of blood red.
“Henny,” R. Kelly commands.
A compartment opens to the right of his ceiling to floor length mirror and a bottle of Hennessey emerges. It is topped with a miniature crown similar to the one Kels is currently wearing on his head.
“Honeys,” R. Kelly desires.
But nothing happens.
“I said,” R. Kelly pauses for dramatic effect, his luscious tenor flowing through the space of his walk in closet, “Honeys.”
All of the lights in the closet shut off.
Kels rubs his now wet hands through his cornrows. A small patch of light shines through the exit. He walks towards it, but the door slams shut.
The mirror begins to glow. Kels backs against the corner, bottle in one hand, Glock in the other, shaking in his very expensive Versace boots.
A face appears in the mirror. Kelly pulls the trigger, but the gun jams. He runs to the door, and bangs loudly. “Help, I’m trapped in the closet!” he screams, only too late recognizing the irony.
Lil’ John, who is in the other room playing Jenga with Snoop Dogg, yells “WHAT?!”
Everyone laughed, and all was well again.
**all credits to this story go to http://rapindustryfanfiction.tumblr.com**
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