Big Queasy was a simple man. He grew up in suburban New Orleans, and in order to give his regular life a more adventurous flavor in music, he painted lyrical pictures of fetid swampland and referred to his hometown as “Nawleens”- a figure of speech which caused merriment among his peers. While he enjoyed rapping, his real love in life was “bulking”. This is the practice of attempting to add a maximum amount of bulk unto one’s person with a minimum amount of corresponding sag. The idea is that instead of going to one’s belly and drooping more and more, the food one eats is evenly distributed throughout one’s body, and stays firm on the bone even as it balloons outward. This is in contrast to the old traditional “muscleman” culture, where fat is almost always considered undesirable- here, it’s the ratio of fat-to-muscle that’s the issue, and rather than be entirely eliminated, the fat simply needs to be kept in check while an understructure of muscle can be built up, in preparation for more consumption.
As a major proponent of what he called the “Nawleens bulk boy” culture, Big Queasy had a very specific and rather unorthodox strategy. “Listen up, honey-poot,” he would say with an air of authority. “First comes the chili verde. I spend all day slow-cooking my famous Nawleens chili verde until it’s neighborhood-perfect. But the real key is the brown rice. The combination promotes maximum bulk with minimum sag, because both items have high protein, but the good fiber in the brown rice helps the body flush out the stuff in the chili verde that might produce sag. When the swamp community realized the potential here, we bulk boys were just constantly eating chili verde and brown rice. I mean all the time.”
A key component for Big Queasy during these massive eating orgies was a large container of lemonade or iced tea, which he would guzzle with huge gulps regularly. He explained that “Lots of healthy fluid- little sugar or caffeine, no alcohol yet-“ suffused and massaged the insides, preventing harmful clumping and avoiding a digestive traffic jam. The diuretic properties of the fluid had the added, unstated benefit of moving along the massive amount of gas building up in Queasy’s system, in a stress-relieving Niagara of meat vapor.
After a timely and prodigious BM, the next stop before naptime torpor set in was the important weight training component of Queasy’s regimen. For this, a soundtrack both mellow and energizing was needed to help the body into the proper rhythm. Queasy nearly always went with old-fashioned funk tunes from his enviable vinyl collection. He tried many other types of music, including some of his own rap albums, but funk was the clear winner. No “marsh-home bulk boy” would deny its effectiveness. Sometimes ladies would drop by Queasy’s front porch to admire and encourage, but due to the nasty farts, it was generally only the toughest women, and even they tended to keep a safe distance.
This would continue until Big Queasy was compelled to fall asleep, and it has to be said that it was a remarkably successful regimen for his purposes. He always encouraged others in his peer group to try it. While they had great fun affectionately mocking his manner of speaking, few denied that his methods worked for “building up bulk”.
Big Queasy had a fairly good life in the underground rap and bulking scene, but he always felt that as long as he was in New Orleans, he would be something of a butt of jokes, however good natured and well-meaning. There had also cropped up increasing domestic problems in his life. Too minor to even mention, they still told on Queasy’s rather tender psyche. One day, on a whim, Queasy decided to hop aboard a cargo train and try his hand at drifting. He had the clothes on his back, a wad of money, and a pistol which, needless to say, he never used.
He spent a few months in St. Louis, where he gained a rather better reputation as a rapper than he had had in New Orleans. His very scarce older recordings even became mildly sought after. Still taken with wanderlust, but not wanting to go too far afield in hopes that word of his slight St. Louis success could keep up with him, he stopped by Kansas City. There he branded himself as a romantic modern-day “gangsta” vagabond. In truth his drifting gave him more practice at avoiding criminals than committing crimes. But it was a novel enough approach to get the interest of a naïve young Cunning Keith, who painted Big Queasy in his imagination to be a cunning man of the shadows, rather than a furtive skulker. Queasy, anxious to be seen as a role model for more promising (but in this case far less likeable) young talent, taught Cunning Keith everything he knew about hip hop. Keith would know Queasy for about 3 months, but he would never stop telling stories about him thereafter- stories that naturally grew more colorful as time went on.
There was a dispute over a drug deal, the details of which remain murky. In the month of December, 1989, a few drifting punks claim to have seen Queasy safely board a cargo car on a westbound train. Thereafter, Big Queasy disappears from the records and, for all intents and purposes, from the face of the Earth.