Once upon a time in a lonely forest, there was a little boy looking for his grandmother's house party. He was a special little boy, for he was known far and wide as being the boy with the beats. He spun wax at Grandmother's first four house parties, and all the other boys, girls and woodland creatures had sucked their pacifiers and bounced around, so he became known as Little Boy Beat. On this particular day, Little Boy Beat had to get to Grandmother's House Party 5 because he was the live attraction, and he'd heard that Grandmother was sick. So, with a basket of vinyl under his arm, he went into the dark and lonely woods. Just then, a wolf-- neither fat nor slim, and known among those parts as being a bit of a badass-- happened along:

"Where are you going, Little Boy Beat?" he asked.

"I am going to Grandmother's House Party, Mr. Wolf," answered the little boy.

"Where does she live?" asked the Wolf.

"Oh, at the third cottage past yonder mill. Grandmother is very ill, so I am taking her these sweet beats which my producer has made for her."

"If she is so ill, I will go and see her too," said the Wolf. "I will go this way, and you go through the woods, and we will see who gets there first."

So saying, he shambled off, and ran all the way to the cottage.

Tap, tap-- he knocked at the cottage door.

"Who is there?" asked Grandmother, who, by all accounts, was once called Pete Tong.

"It is I," answered the Wolf in a soft voice, "Little Boy Beat! I have brought you nice, fresh cakes and butter."

"Pull the bobbin and the latch will lift up," called out Grandmother.

The Wolf pulled the bobbin, lifted the latch, and entered the cottage. Then, he ate up poor Grandmother, put on her nightgown, and pulled her nightcap right over his ugly wolfhead, and crashed on the couch. "The old bitch was a bit tough," he mumbled to himself, "but the little boy will be a delicate morsel."

Meanwhile, Little Boy Beat lingered on in the woods. It was so bright there; the birds sang merrily in the trees, and the brook chattered as it ran down to help the mill do its work. Everything was full of life. He chased the dainty butterflies, and then gathered a posy for Grandmother who could not get out and see the Spring flowers grow. At last, tired with his play, he set off to reach Grandmother's house party.

He knocked at the door, and the Wolf, softening his voice, called out: "Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." Little Boy Beat opened the door and walked in.

"Put the basket on the table, and come into bed with me," said the Wolf, "for I feel cold."

Little Boy Beat thought that his grandmother's voice was very hoarse, but then he remembered that this might be on account of her cold. Being an obedient boy, he got into bed, but when he saw the hairy arms, he began to grow frightened. "What long arms you have, Grandmother!"

"The better to hug you with, my dear."

Then he saw the long ears sticking up out of the nightcap. "What great ears you have, Grandmother!"

"The better to hear you with, my dear."

"What great teeth you have, Grandmother!"

"The better to eat you with, my dear!" shouted the Wolf. With one bound, he sprang out of bed, and would have gobbled Little Boy Beat right up had the boy been a second slower. Little Boy Beat whipped out his wax, leaped behind the tables, and shouted, "I am Paul Oakenfold the Mighty! Ye shall obey me!" Then he laid down some smooth trance grooves, mixing like a king and making the little piggies in the backyard pen roll in the mud with delight.

The Wolf was stunned, but hungry, so he lunged at the other tables-- the ones with the giant stacks of speakers. His tongue flapped out of his mouth and his eyes rolled lasciviously as he slapped some old faves on the deck and started spinning. It was battle. He drooled: "Fatboy Slim is fuckin' in heaven!" And they went at it.

It lasted for what seemed like hours, but in actuality only lasted 154 minutes. By the end, all the children and woodland creatures had come to watch the battle. The Wolf started with a subtlety that no one expected, but soon he was driving Little Boy Beat into submission with heavy, hard house sounds that bore his personal mark. The raccoon kept a list as the Wolf brought it from all sides-- new, old, stuff you've heard in various conflagrations, all warped into an intoxicating, mesmerizing beat factory. Racoon was shouting now: "Major Force! Art of Noise! Chemical Brothers! Underworld! Armand Van Helden!" The list went on, but was drown out by the encompassing peace that swallowed the Wolf's groove: Little Boy Beat's decks were, as the field mouse said, "en fuego."

Little Boy Beat, for such a small boy, had the wisdom of years in front of house parties. He let his roots be the yin to the Wolf's yang. Where the Wolf bound the listener into dancing submission with cascading beats, Little Boy Beat went old-school cerebral on his ass. Shimmering, space-age synth loops came and went in gentle succession, sometimes matched with delicate melodies, sometimes framing dense beats. The Raccoon came running soon enough, a little out of breath when he gasped: "Luzon! The Unknown! Brainchild! Jan Johnston! Solar Stone!" And we marvelled at the breadth of Little Boy Beat's selection which mirrored-- yet was completely different from-- the Wolf's.

When it was all over, someone realized that Grandmother wasn't dead at all, but chewing frantically on several pieces of Trident in the corner. Little Boy Beat had gained a new respect for the harnessed aggression of the Wolf, and the Wolf was no longer hungry, for little boy's beats had fed him. They gave each other a wet kiss with plenty of tongue and danced into the sunset.

We all thought it was over until we saw that the DAT recorders for each had been recording the whole thing, separately! The weasel, who was very good with such things, made compact discs for everyone so they could listen to the legendary duel. Everyone agreed that both performances were exceptional, but no one could agree on whose was better. The Wolf was an illustration of trance-beat hypnosis in its smoothest guise, but Little Boy Beat had crafted an incredible testament to skills, experience, sharp ear, and synthesis. The debate raged on for many years, and no agreement was ever reached, but everyone that witnessed the Great Battle that day was glad to have been a part of it. And to this day, people walking through the forest can be seen wagging their hips to the reverb of that wondrous event.

THE END

-James P. Wisdom