When the store lights go off, Macklemore is standing in the donation room of Goodwill. He is elbows-deep in a canvas donation bin of someone else's clothes.
The bright florescent lights of the donation room remain on. Macklemore extricates one arm from the donation bin and looks at his giant gold watch (secondhand, not always correct).
Closing time, Macklemore thinks to himself. He begins to idly hum "Closing Time" by Semisonic. He continues to root through the donation bin, pushing side stained 5K t-shirts and old jeans to pull out uniquely patterned button-ups.
Generally, customers are not allowed in the donation room of Goodwill. But, Macklemore had provided a huge upsurge in business with the release of his hit song "Thrift Shop," which specifically namedropped Goodwill, he assumed. He assumed he would be welcome. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, at least.
Fifteen minutes later, Macklemore is finished. All the uniquely patterned buttons up have been removed from the donation bin, along with a scarf and yet another giant fur coat. He picks the pile up from the linoleum of the donation room floor and scurries to the door that separates the donation room from the sales floor.
"Oh, I didn't know I wasn't allowed back here," he mutters to himself, practicing. "Won't happen again... I found these, though..." He pushes the door.
It doesn't budge.
He jimmies the doorknob and pushes harder. It still doesn't budge. It's locked.
"Hello?" Macklemore says aloud. His voice echoes to the high ceilings. "Hello? Unlock the door!"
No one answers. He sets his chosen items aside and slams his shoulder into the door. "Hello!" he says again louder. "I'm in here! I'm Macklemore!"
Through the windows in the donation room, Macklemore peers into the storefront. All the lights are off and it is silent. The Goodwill is closed and the doors are locked.
He sprints across the room, sweat gathering at his temples, and tries the door that leads outside. It doesn't move.
"Why don't they turn off the lights in here when they close?" Macklemore says. He scrubs his hand across his forehead. "Why don't they check for customers?"
He bangs his fists on the door. "Hello? Hello!"
The only response is the buzz of the fluorescent bulbs overhead.
He turns and leans back against the door. He slides down, slowly, until he is sitting on the linoleum with his knees to his chest. The lights reflect oppressively off the stained white floors and walls.
"I'm trapped," Macklemore whispers, gazing at the aisles and aisles of donation bins. He knows inside each bin is at least one wonderful item, one come-up waiting to find him and guide him to nightclub glory. And yet, here, trapped within the well-lit rows, he does not feel excitement or joy. He was so used to appearing in Goodwill, snatching one or two things, and disappearing back in into a world of expensive mixed drinks and speed boats. Now he was trapped, locked up with other peoples' discarded items, marinating in the stench of unwashed clothes. Goodwill as an idea had lost its kitsch. Goodwill was now his reality. Like so many others, he had no where else to go.
Two hours later, Macklemore is lying inside a donation bin. The room is cold. He burrows beneath the fur coat he found so gleefully just hours ago, but still he shivers. The buzzing lights burn through his eyelids and keep him from sleep. He is thirsty. He is alone. He thinks of the song that made him famous, and his stomach turns. He wonders if he will ever be the same again.
Kate Davis Jones is half of the "creative team" behind the vaguely popular blog "Rap Industry Fan Fiction." She's on Twitter - @k8dj
The Kid Mero Versus Baltimore Party Rap
Gay rap is not a genre.
Scrapbook: MØ Flips Through Her Old Photo Albums
From grunge to crust punk to hip-hop to coyly cool Scandi-pop, MØ digs through her old photo albums for the ultimate #TBT charting her music and style evolution.
Hipsters Can't Ruin Hip-Hop Because Hipsters Don't Exist
"Hipsters" are a fictional construct, an army of imaginary scapegoats in trucker hats perched perilously on top of both a five-panel and a snapback.
Deniro Farrar: Notice - Cult Rap - Part 3/4
Deniro Discusses How Cult Rap is a Genre of Music That Connects With the Listener Through Social Commentary
Insanely Close and Personal With the Brian Jonestown Massacre
I met Katy Newcombe when we were both fifteen. Now I see her presence lurking within magazine features, disguised as the words “Anton’s teenage Welsh bride.”
Courtney Barnett Told Us How to Stop Writing Terrible Poetry and Land a Record Deal
We talked to the Australian singer about art school and why trying to write good songs just leads to writing bad ones.
Turn Up to Keys N Krates' Diplo & Friends Mix
Occasionally, we the at Noisey will kindly request that you drop whatever you're doing and turn the goddamn motherfuck up. Now is one of those times.
Meet Amos: The Man Who Designs Moog's Wonderful Toys
Moogfest takes place in North Carolina this Wednesday and boasts a lineup including M.I.A., Giorgio Moroder, Kraftwerk, Dan Deacon and many more. So we talked to the man who dreams up synths.
I Went to Bogotá in Colombia For Festival Estéreo Picnic and Danced For Days
Noisey ditched North America for South to eat endless empanadas, catch up with Julian Casablancas backstage, get winded while dancing to Phoenix and find out more about Colombia's music scene.
Give Life Back to Fhqwhgads
How a Strong Bad/Daft Punk mash-up album helped bring out the magic in 'Random Access Memories.'