Decided to transport this entire story to Boondocks Forever for two reason. 1.) I really don't want to focus too much on another Jazmine tale. 2.) Since Boondocks Forever is on-going project that will have a collection of tales, there is no need for a seperate story of mine to exist away from it.

I noticed that I am not getting a lot of reviews. I won't let it discourage me. I may not be the a great writer and my views may be polarizing, but that is part of my personality. If you want me to review your story, I wll whole heartedly. I just figured out how the damn thing works.

On with the story. This is about Jazmine's frustration with her hair and race. She enters in a pageant and crazy shit goes down. There is more to this tale than meets the eye. As I've repeatively said, everything that I write is satire. I will make a point. Enjoy.


Prologue: Narrated by Huey Freeman

Every morning Jazmine Dubois would wake up and furiously comb her strawberry blonde hair with no avail. She used all types of hair relaxers and ingredients, and spent countless hours every morning attempting to tame her rebellious hair, but there was never any success. In Jazmine's mind, it was a war that she couldn't afford to lose. Jazmine would go to extreme measures to achieve her goal of being socially accepted. She tried using her door as a make shift hair presser, ironing her hair which led to a iron shaped print on the foot of her bed, and even attempting to soak her hair in the sinks of the school's restrooms during every bathroom break. Of course, this led to a lot of puddles in the hallways and many kids slipped and got hurt. The custodians didn't even have to wet the floors thanks to her.

Jazmine was suffering from what many African American women such as herself (I don't care what she says about her mom being white and her dad being black or saying that's she is mixed. That's some ol' bullshit. She is as black as the Gabriel Union standing next to Dwayne Wade in a power out): Afro-Denial. Afro Denial is a psychological affliction wherein patients exhibit self-delusional behavior believing that they have long straight flowing hair, and also thinking that long this Eurocentric standard of beauty is universally accepted among the whole culture. They also refuse to accept their course, thick hair and sometimes insult it by using the words "Nappy", "Bad hair", and "Shitty."

Symptoms of this disorder range from getting a perm, believing the lighter your skin tone the more attractive you are, and to buying those damn beauty magazines that only accentuate European standards of beauty. Jazmine was a victim, more or less, to all these symptoms and it didn't help that her father, Thomas Lancaster Dubois, obviously favored white women and thought they were more attractive than his African sisters and when it came to his daughter, he tried to emphasize her European, Caucasian traits while diminishing her Nubian qualities.

Jazmine is like many insecure women in America. She needs assurance that this society will not allow her to have unless she looks a certain way.

*Side note:This is the only part that Huey is narrating.


"Daddy," Jazmine called out while straining to pin her hair down from her bedroom. This was part of her routine. She would attempt to repress her hair every morning before school for a good hour. She would fiddle with it while sitting on the edge of her bed and would always submit because she always had to catch the school bus. She would then always, full of shame and regret, tie up her hair in two afro puffs. This time, little miss Dubois opted for a more progressive approach.

"How can I fix my hair?"

"Well sweetie, I've always suggested that we use lye, but your mother said that you were too young," Tom paused, "And Huey would berate me day in and day out"

"Tom, are you serious?" Sarah, who just arrived in the scene, interrupted with a tinge of annoyance in her voice. "Tom, Huey is just a ten year old boy. What could he possibly…"

Sarah stopped and thought about her words carefully. Huey was a ten year old boy that had tranquilizer darts, bullet proof vests, a samurai sword, and an expertise in Martial Arts and Parkour. Huey could wreck just as much, if not more, havoc as his little brother, Riley, if he really wanted to. It also didn't help that Huey is considered a domestic terrorist as well as a militant radical who has the likes of Che Guevara on his wall like some sort of sports star. Huey was anything, but harmless even though he was genial towards the Dubois family.

"Never mind," Sarah shivered at the thought of an angry, pissed off Huey, "but nonetheless, Tom. It is a bit too extreme to suggest that Jazmine use lye. You forget that it burns. Plus, she is only ten years old."

Tom, already feeling overwhelmed and flustered by his wife's seemingly passive comments, retorted back, "Do you see any other "normal" girl with this kind of hair? Beyonce may have sported in that Austin Powers movie, but that's completely different and it was played for laughs. No woman considers it beautiful."

Tom, unaware that he completely forgot that Jazmine was still standing in front of him, didn't realize that Jazmine was in full blown tears until he heard her wail. "You (sob) don't (sob) think (sob) I'm…I'm…," Jazmine was so stunned that she couldn't even finished. She just sprinted out her bedroom door and ran downstairs with her arm covering her now drenched face. Tom and Sarah, still shocked, heard the front door slam which indicated that their daughter has officially vacated the proximity.

"Way to go, Tom," Sarah not hiding the incensed anger in her voice and gave her oblivious husband a terrifying glare, "You really are a model father." Sarah shook her head and left after her baby girl. Tom stumbled to explain himself, but Sarah wasn't hearing it. She didn't even turn around to her bumbling fool of a husband.


Huey, honestly, felt like he was wasting time at school. Shit, he could contest that he was smarter than most, if not all, of the school's faculty and they wouldn't even bother to debate. While kids were gawking about the Disney's number one sensations Hanna Montana and the Jonas Brothers, Huey was studying the works of Karl Marx and Anarcho-Syndicalism. While his history teacher was "performing", as Huey put it because it sure as hell as wasn't teaching the truth, he would either go to sleep or read one of his many books. While his English teacher was teaching about direct and indirect pronouns for the umpteenth time, Huey was reading Khalil Gibran. During recess, kids were playing hopscotch. During recess, Huey was in a handstand on top of his books testing his dexterity and balance while Caesar and Jazmine watched and sometimes tried themselves. Huey was different, and the teachers treated differently because of the fact that he was different and the fact that the government ordered them to since he has been blacklisted as a potential domestic terrorist and a threat to homeland security. It must be unnerving to have a student like that.

The only school that Huey seemed to give a damn about was lunch since it allowed him to pick at Caesar's and Jazmine's eating habits.

"Ceez, do you know what they do to cows in those industrial sweatshops that have the nerve to be called farms?" Huey declared with much scrutiny in his voice.

"No," Caesar mused right before taking a huge chomp out of his burger, "But I'm sure you are going to tell me."

"When you get an E. coli infection and start having violent diarrhea that will tear up your rectum like a bladed phallic object and start vomiting so much that you may never eat again," Huey nonchalantly stated while turning his attention away from Caesar's shocked expression and to his own veggie burger, "don't say that I didn't warn you."

Caesar dropped his burger. "Okay, not hungry."

Pleased with his success, Huey turned to Jazmine who was unusually melancholy. Huey furrowed his right eyebrow upwards out of curiosity.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Huey asked in the most sincere way that Huey Freeman could ask…which didn't really seem to be sincere on the surface by the way.

"Nothing," Jazmine mumbled and then she took her tray and left the two boys alone.

"See, Huey?" Caesar interrupted, "it's not acceptable to mention violent diarrhea at table. Damn, the hell is wrong with you?"

Huey narrowed his eyes at Caesar and then diverted his attention back at Jazmine. "I wonder what's eating at her," Huey pondered.


While the school day ended and many kids rushed out the entrance as if they have never seen outside before, Jazmine sulked in the halls. There is something wrong with this scenario. Jazmine, the little ray of sunshine, was sulking around with people watching her in the halls.

"Damn," she heard a voice holler, "Da hell iz eatin' you, Carrot Top."

Jazmine immediately turned around and glared at the offender who would have dared to pick on her wild mane at this moment. Unsurprised, it was Riley Freeman, Huey's younger brother and also Huey's yang to his yin. A Self-proclaimed gangsta and "Real Nigga." He considers himself manly beyond all comparison and despises anything remotely homosexual.

Riley, undeterred by Jazmine's glare, laughed at Jazmine's attempts to be intimidating. "Oh, look at Ms. Chia Pet ovah hur actin' all hard and shit. Girl, you bout as scurry as them cats niggas be using on the internet, " Riley cackled, "Nigga, you needta cut dat shit out."

Jazmine sighed and then began to tear much to Riley's surprise. 'Oh hell naw,' Riley thought. 'This broad ain't bout to make him look like da bad guy. Young Reezy gots a rep on the streets dat he needta maintain'

"Umm, Jazmine," Riley leaned in towards her but kept his distance, "Is you okay?"

Jazmine, unable to control her tears, gushed from her eyes and hugged Riley much to his dismay. "Riley, AM I BEAUTIFUL!" she whined…no she practically screamed.

Riley struggled to pry her Iron Clamp of a hug off, but eventually succeeded. "Yo," Riley said while wiping the tears off his shirt," Cut dat shit out!"

"Dat ain't gangsta, Jazmine," he continued, "da hell I look like? Da damn self-pity guide? Shit ,take dat ta somebody else who curr. Peace."

With that, Riley was on his way. Jazmine sat under the bulletin board with her knees and continued to cry her little heart out. A blue piece of paper slowly floated beside the somber child. Jazmine got a glance of it at the corner of her teary eye, and picked it up.

"The Woodcrest Junior Beauty Pageant," her eyes scanned the rest of the paper, "All participants are automatically assigned a beauty coach?"

Her eyes grew wide with that statement. The joy and cheerfulness in her eyes returned. 'This is my last hope to be beautiful.' She went from sulking to skipping with glee. Even if she didn't win, the beauty coach will most likely fix her broken hair.

When Jazmine and Huey first met...

Jazmine was shy. Back in her hometown, she always had trouble making new companions because she was always felt that she was different. Like the students saw something was off about her. Her parents hoped that this would be remedied with the move to Woodcrest. The girl's parents took a sigh of relief when they saw a boy looking through a window watching them move. He had short, black hair, and of African descent. He also sported seemingly angry disposition on his face. Despite the child's demeanor, Tom and Sarah were glad that they was a kid around Jazmine's age that lived right accross the street. After the family finished packing, they saw an Afro wearing boy carrying a newspaper walk towards the same house they saw the angry kid in just a few hours ago. Sarah took it upon herself to encourage her bi-racial daughter to speak to him. The girl reluctantly walked behind him and introduced herself.

"Umm, excuse me..." the girl finally released with her arms folded behind her back. To her surprise, the seemingly recluse child stopped dead in his tracks, but didn't turn around to face her. Jazmine was a little discouraged by the kid's ackwardness, but she wasn't completely deterred.

"Hi, I just moved in across the street. My name is Jazmine," she continued, "Whats yours?"

"Huey," the boy flatly responded with his back still turned towards her, "Its good to have more black people around."

Jazmine was a little dumbfounded by his observation that she was completely black. In fact, she wasn't even sure if he even looked at her yet.

"Um...Gee, um why...," the girl stuttered along, "Why would you think I was...um..black?"

Huey turned around and gave her stern look. His amber eyes borrowed deep in her emerald ones.

"Well first of all, Mariah," Huey said with emphasis, "Your afro is bigger than me."

Jazmine subconsciously grabbed her hair as if it was in danger. "I don't have an afro," she combed her hair down as if it would make a difference, "My hair is a little frizzy today."

"Angela Davis' hair was just a 'little frizzy'," the deadpan kid retorted while walking away, "You have an afro."

Jazmine was infuriated with the boys offensive words. "I do not!" she yelled and then raised an eyebrow, "And who is Angela Davis?"

"A retired professor who once ran against Reagan on the Communist political ticket. She had the same skin tone and hair as you."

Noticing the girl's oblivious blank stare, he shook his head.

"Okay Jazmine, if you are not black, then what are you? Hmmm," He inquired.

"Well, lets see,"Jazmine twiddled her fingers and then placed her pointer on her chin while pondering,"My mother is one-quarter Irish, one-quarter Swedish and One-Half German."

The confrontational kid rolled his eyes while the befuddled Jazmine continued.

"And my Grandmother on my Father's side is part Cherokee..."

Huey tuned her out because she was committing the same crime that most people of multiple racial backgrounds committed: when they have a lighter background, they automatically think that part is greater than the darker one. In fact, her whole explaination never once referenced her racial background. She seemed to think that most ethnicities are all only one shade of color and she intentionally highlighted the European ones. Huey was convinced that one, if not both, of her parents were intentionally excluding half of her background, and his first clue was when she fervently denied being black. If someone thought that she was white, would she be relieved or give that person the same opposition to claim as she was giving him? From that point on, Huey took an active duty to remind her that she has African vein in her blood as well as the Caucasian.

"...And his father was from Haiti, I believe," she finally finished, "Which makes me-"

"Which makes you," Huey cut her off as he turned around and walked away, "As black as Richard Roundtree in "Shaft of Africa.""

"Does not!" the mulatto protested," And who is Richard Roundtree?"


"Jazmine! Your …umm…beauty coach is here!"

Tom and Sarah didn't put up much resistance when Jazmine asked to participate in the beauty contest. Normally, the interracial couple would at least deliberate with one another before making such a drastic decision like you would expect lawyers would do, but since Tom's disparaging remarks towards his bi-racial daughter, they would agree on anything that would help their supposed "baby girl's" self-esteem issues. However, they weren't expecting who… or maybe a "what" …was at their front door.

Jazmine sprinted down stairs and saw what was maybe the unholiest of the unholy sights that her emerald eyes have ever laid upon. Her "beauty coach" was a tall, slender dark man almost the same skin tone as Uncle Ruckus. He wore green high heels and sported a long, flamboyant, green, sparkly coat with what seemed to be green belts wrapped around his arms…in the middle of spring. Apparently he was a man that went beyond the impossible in terms of fashion sense. His hair was combed down on one side of his head and spiked on the other. He held out hands in a stereotypically arrogant manner with his elbow just below his shoulders while his forearms were held up. His hands dangled as if he just got a permanently unfinished manicure. One of his mitts loosely gripped on a bundle of papers.

Jazmine's expression matched her father's, who had been in awe at this site for quite awhile since he was the one that opened the door: their jaws hung as low as possible. Sarah found it so amusing that she held her hand over her mouth to control her barely audible giggle.

The man's condescending eyes scanned the residence as if he were waiting for something. Sarah eventually caught on.

"Well, Jazmine, aren't you going to introduce yourself, sweetie?" Sarah snorted, still trying to hold back her laughter.

The little mulatto girl blinked.

"Hi, I'm Jazmine."

"Oh, so you do have mannahhhs," the man cut his eyes towards Tom, "Unlike someone. Close your mouth, sweetie"

The prestigious district attorney, offended, responded.

"Pardon me," his voice laced with skepticism, "but we still haven't gotten your name yet. You just said that you were Jazmine's beauty coach."

"And I still haven't gotten yours eithahhs," the man snapped his fingers at Tom, "But since I am just bettahhhs than you. I am known as The Great Miss Cee."

The curious girl knotted her eyebrows together, "Umm 'Miss' Cee?"

"The Great Miss Cee, honey," corrected the gaudy wearing male, "The state sent me to deal with your…"

The Great Miss Cee pervasive eyes scanned Jazmine from head to toe. Judging from his eyes, he wasn't too pleased.

"Your special 'sizzy'," he finished as he used his hands as air quotes and then sauntered, his paws in the same position in the way he stood, towards the girl's mother, who was on a brink of laughter, and handed her the papers, "Herahhh mah credentials, accolades, and accomplishments."

The blue-eyed lawyer scanned the page filled with celebrity names, some she was familiar with and others not so, such as Vivica A. Fox, Nicki Minaj, and Jada Pinkett Smith. It was safe to say that her daughter was in capable hands…despite his hands never going below his shoulders.

"The Great Miss Cee," the bashful child interrupted, "I really need your-"

"Say no mah, child," the flamboyant flamer snapped his fingers at Tom, "You get mah bags. Chop-chop."

He turned his attention towards Jazmine, again.

"And you come with me. We have a lot to work to do."


The boys had the same routine after school. Riley would be stuck in detention while Huey and Caesar walked back to class because Uncle Ruckus drove the bus that went back to their neighborhood and Ruckus "don't want no baboons messin' with da beautiful white chillin." When the boys arrived home (more precociously Huey's), they sat at the kitchen table and did their homework. Most of the time, Jazmine and Cindy (if she wasn't in detention with Riley) would join them, but due to precarious circumstances, this didn't permit this. Jazmine was off doing whatever and Cindy just had to antagonize a teacher with Riley. So it was just the vitriolic best beds.

"You know," Caesar interjected while both he and Huey were doing their homework, "I will never understand Black conservatives. It's like they want to be made fun of and ridiculed by the same party they are representing."

Huey didn't even turn his attention away from his work and kept writing diligently.

"Maybe they're masochists," the perpetual frowner finally inputted.

The dread head looked up and pondered the idea," That would explain why Michael Steele funded a private jet full of BDSM gear with the RNC money."

The cynical child's head jerked up and his left eye twitched as if he saw something atrocious, "You just had to say that? Now pervasive images are clouding my mind."

Caesar smirked, "Speaking of MC Mike. Doesn't he look like Humpty Dumpty from Digital Underground?"

"Caesar, I think that we are the only kids our age that would actually appreciate that joke," the boy closed his book, "I'm done."

"Aww, man! You always get done before me!" the dread head pouted, "Are you a robot or something? Do you feel anything? Do you feel happiness? Regrets? Joy?"

Huey scooted out of his seat and shrugged.

"If it means anything, I have regretted one thing."

Caesar lifted an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Spending a good chunk of my life under the Bush administration."

The optimistic boy laughed, "It's a good thing that Obama is in office then."

Huey didn't respond. The afro dynamo just seemed to space out. Caesar waved his hand in front of Huey's face trying to get his attention.

"Huh, what?" the started Huey stirred.

"You iight, man?" Caesar questioned, "You've been spacing out in Huey World a lot ever since Jazmine dipped out on us the other day."

"I don't know," the revolutionary's eyes gleamed, "She just seemed off lately."

Caesar lifted his eyebrow, "What? Are you just mad that you didn't get the chance to make her feel miserable and someone else did? I'm sure that Jazmine is just going through things. It probably isn't as dire as you're making it out to be."

Huey still looked uncertain and reluctantly responded, "I hope you're right."

"Now that's settled," Caesar stretched his arms out, "After you help me out with this, we have to get Michael Steele a woman on Adult Friend Finder. I think that may be his kind of thing."

Huey raised an eyebrow, "How do you know about-"

"Huey!" they heard a voice roar from upstairs, "Boy, hurry up and fix my camera. Shoot, I was talking to a fine yeller-bone too."

The skeptical child shoot his head in both embarassment and shame.

"Him," Caesar answered with a wry smile.


Sometimes Jazmine liked to reminisce about all the things that have happened since she moved to Woodcrest. She never expected the sudden change in location to be so enlightening. She would close her eyes and think about the good times. And sometimes, her mind would flutter towards the bad.

The wide-eyed idealist often looked to the clouds for comfort. In her emerald rich eyes, clouds were the perfect listeners. They never refuted her claim or denounce her proclamations as pure drivel. The cotton in the sky just kept on floating as the girl stood in awe in her sun yellow dress. The summer breeze blew her orange mane and her sunflower dress into the wind.

"Most people don't understand what it's like being different," the beige girl mused.

"Like…"

She struggled to find an analogy.

"I once saw a yellow flower right in the middle of bunch of red roses," she confidently continued with her eyes never leaving the tranquil sky.

"Everything around it was either green or red." The naiveté placed one hand on her tiny stomach, "And here was this yellow flower. It looked lonely."

Her eyes wandered back towards an old oak tree and glanced at the afro bearing boy leaning on the tree who seemed to not be paying attention to her since his eyes were fervently scanning through his newspaper. She smirked.

"That's what it is like to be biracial." Her eyes glistened, "I'm different from everyone else. My mom and dad say that makes me special. But I just think it's lonely."

"Jazmine," Huey interrupted the girl's moment of self-triumph.

"Yes," the girl politely responded with her hands clasped together while turning her head completely towards her best friend.

"You're black," he flatly retorted while his eyes left the newspaper to meet her green eyes. "Get over it."

"Ohhhh, be quiet," she stuck her tongue at her critic with her hands on her hips. "Nobody was talking to you anyway. Hmmph!"

Her nose was pointed defiantly in the air away from her cynical friend, but it didn't faze him. The boy chillingly closed his newspaper, stood next to the girl, and gazed at the same passing clouds that she so enjoyed communing with. Confused by his sudden action, Jazmine blushed thinking it meant something else.

"One day, you come to be indebted to all who you are and not disparage it," he inputted as the wind carried his bulbous hair while his amber eyes pierced into the sky.

Jazmine snapped out her daydream and shook her head.

And sometimes, there were moments that were too obscure for her to appreciate.


Most kids looked forward to Fridays, but Huey, Caesar, and Riley have grown to detest them. Why? Because Uncle Ruckus made time off his busy and seemingly job schedule to make sure that the kids didn't catch the bus every Friday. "Take that. Yall, banana peelin' jiggaboos!"

"Sup, Huey," the dread head called out to his best friend who was just walking towards school.

Huey didn't even bother to face him.

"Well besides the fact that this hypocritical country funds Afghan warlords to stop a formerly funded by us Afghan warlord." He shrugged, "I guess that I'm fine."

Caesar just stopped and looked at his conscious, but extremely militant friend.

"Why do I even bother to ask you that question every morning?"

"Beats me," the aspiring revolutionary shrugged again. "So anything new?"

"Same old, same old," Caesar responded while rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Keep hearing about the same BP disaster. Keep hearing about the same general keep criticizing Obama about the Afghan war. Keep hearing about the same Tea Bagger movement look for excuses to justify their blatantly racist foundation while claiming that they aren't racist."

"I think Louis Farrakhan could help them with the last one. Or maybe John Mayor? Or even Don Imus? Or any white guy that made a racist declaration while declaring they aren't racist?" Huey inputted.

"They have a whole entire network dedicated to that, Huey," Caesar inputted. "It's called Fox News."

At this point, Riley was thoroughly confused with their using rambling and decided to change the conversation.

"Yo, did yall see dat ugly ass broad dats supposed to be "Jazmine's beauty coach"," Riley cackled. "Man, why is dey askin' sum two dollah ho dat look like some shit from Norbit fah beauty tips?"

Both Huey and Caesar glanced at each other. Caesar was trying to hold his laughter in while the boy's brother wasn't amused with his sibling's ignorance.

"Umm, Riley," Huey finally said, "That woman was obviously a man in feminine attire."

Riley's jaw dropped as if an explosion just occurred.

"Nigga, is you serious?" He was skeptical at first, but, to his surprise, Huey was being dead serious.

"Oh shit," his eyes widened and then closed as he was on the brink of bursting into hilarity. "Dat fairy faggot ass nigga."

Unable to control his laughter, the corn rowed deviant held his stomach and doubled over as if he were in pain while giggling uncontrollable.

"Dats da gayest nigga EVAH!"

Huey and Caesar just shook their heads simultaneously and then proceeded to walk away from the scene.


"Jazzayyyy!" The flamboyant one clapped his hands calling for the girl.

Jazmine stammered over to her coach wondering what he wanted now.

"Did I do something wrong, The Great Miss Cee?"

The poor mulatto child has been worked tooth and bone to at least satisfy Great Miss Cee, but it was to no avail. The belligerent cross dresser seemed to be focused on only the poor girl's faults. When a single book fell off her little head, the Great Miss Cee would throw a fit.

"God fucking dammit!" he'd exclaim.

When her model walk was less than satisfactory, the Great Miss Cee would pleasantly call for Tom, smile at the unsuspecting lawyer, and then punched the shit out of him.

"Fuck you, you punk ass bitch," he roared in a, unusual for him, masculine tone. After the sudden transformation, the pugnacious one would return to his usual feminine tone and shrug off the event as if nothing happened. "That felt better."

Jazmine was worried. She didn't want to be chastised, again, especially not the day before the climatic event. Her self-esteem is already on an all-time low, and she wasn't too sure if her dad had enough of a jaw to withstand another one of the Great Miss Cee's furious right hand.

He cut his eyes away from the extremely fragile girl. "Good jawwwb," he waved his hand.

Jazmine's eyes widened in astonishment and her mouth fell open. She couldn't believe her ears.

"W-w-what?"

"You bettah hear me this time," his eyes narrowed. "GOOOOOOOD JOOOOOOB."

The girl blinked her eyes and then a wide grin overtook her beige face.

"OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD," she squealed as she pranced around simultaneously.

"Calm down, sweetie," the girl's coach placed his firm hands on the girl's petite shoulder's. "The Great Miss Cee isn't finahshed yet."

Jazmine gulped and looked into his dark eyes with hesitation and fear. "You're not?"


Every other weekend, Jazmine and Huey would have a discussion on the seemingly symbolic hill, but it wasn't of their own desires. It was merely coincidence that the two would always meet on the same hill. To Huey, it was a place that allowed him peace and tranquility away from the chaos also known as his own household. To Jazmine, it was the location that allowed her to clear her mind. It was always a pleasant surprise for Jazmine to see her knowledgeable best friend reading a newspaper or any other literary source because it often meant that he was either willing to listen to her or going to let her talk his head off until her little heart was content. It was a win-win for the girl regardless of the outcome. But this particular day was different.

"I hate summer," the yellow wearing girl sighed with her knees tucked into her chest while picking at her hair. "My hair's all big and poofy. I just wish it could look like-"

"Gee, I hate to interrupt," Huey stated sardonically while raising his hand to point at the sky. "But what do you think of those clouds over there?"

The mulatto raised an eyebrow in confusion, and then deliberately gazed at the magnificent sky.

"Do you like them?" Huey looked at her as if he were running out of patience.

"Of course," She exclaimed. "They're all big and pretty and…I don't know."

"They just look nice, you know," she added in. "They look big and soft."

"I like them," she finally finished and then noticed that question was out of place.

"Why?" the oblivious child asked her incredibly enigmatic friend.

"Just curious," the boy began reading his book again. "Now what were you saying?"

"I was saying that I can't stand my hair," she responded with a bit of annoyance in her voice. "You don't pay attention to me."

Without even exchanging a look with her, Huey gave her one final statement.

"Neither do you."


Huey Freeman's day has barely started yet, and he was already dreading it. It was bad enough that he was illegally segregated from public transportation("HaHa, you big nosed chimps"), but now an other being that irked him to no end dared to invade his personal proximity. This person was the living incarnant of everything Huey despised with America's hedonistic and hypocritical society, as he so put. If Huey were to physically accost this person, "not a court would send him to jail," as Huey so delicately put it. Even worse, this person dared to approach and, god forbid, greet him.

"Sup, Big Huey!"

Huey physically and mentally winced as Caesar and Riley turned around and faced whomever called. To their dismay, it was Cindy Mcphearson. Cindy was a confused little white girl that was a product of watching too much BET and listening to studio gangsters.

"Wassup, C-Murder," the younger Freeman responded, not nearly as reluctant as the other two.

"Nothin' much, Young Reezy," the girl smirked. "Still gettin' heat from da Fam after what we did ta Ms. Uptight, da otha day."

"Yeah," Riley chuckled. "Had dat ho cryin' like Chris Brown."

"Why are you here, Cindy?" Huey interrupted.

"Well since mah girl's are too busy keepin' an eye out fo mah candy hustle and Jazmine is too busy fo a sistah now and days," Cindy shrugged. "I thought I'd hang out with the Fundraiser since ain't nothin' else to do."

Huey got a glance at the belligerent blonde's shirt. The words ,"Free Weezy" were enbrazened acrossed the cloth. His eyes twitched as if he were about to lose it. In an act of dissonant serenity, he calmly asked about it.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

Cindy raised an eyebrow in confusion, and then realized that he was referring to her shirt. She suddenly started chessing.

"You know." The girl responded. "Just showin' my support fah my man, Weezy. " "I mean he was wrongfully put in prison off of some bullshit, and I'm just tryin' to help a brothah out."

"What makes you think he was "wrongfully" put in prison," the Afro Cynic emphasized with air quotes.

"Weezy iz a legend, Huey. He symbolizes the hope dat shit might get bettah, ya know. His music inspires da struggle. Of course, dey would put him in prison. Why wouldn't dey? I thought dat, of all people, you would understand."

"First off," Huey emphatically pointed out as he began counting off with his fingers. "Lil' Wayne is not a political proponent of the struggle. His lyrics don't inpire anything. They only perpetuate the notion that hedonistic tendencies and misogynostic beliefs, all while symbolizing women as nothing more as sex tools, are the best ways to maintain a lifestyle."

"And," Caesar cut in. "He sucks."

"Second," Huey continued. "Lil Wayne's is in no way a shining beacon in hope. Hope is irrational, but placing hope in a rapper that only wants money and sees himself as the greatest thing in all existance is like placing hope that people just might come out alive in a Jigsaw trap. He is no savior"

"And," Caesar cut in again. "He sucks."

"And finally," Huey exasperated. " Not every famous nigga that goes to jail is Nelson Mandela. Yes, the government conspires to put a lot of innocent blackmen in jail and yes, being placed in prison has a disproportional sentence in regards to the actual crime most of the time, but Wayne rightfully deserves everything he gets in prison."

"And," Caesar took a deep breath and sighed. "He sucks."

Cindy blinked. "I ain't understand a word you said."

"Man," Riley interrupted the discussion. "Don't listen to Huey McHater ovah here. He jus' mad cause Weezy gets mo' bitches and stacks mo' paper dan he will evah will in his life, son. Nigga stop hatin' and get dis paper."

Huey narrowed his eyes. "Thats it. I'm done."

Huey shook his head in disapproval and was about to walk away until Caesar pointed out a prescence approaching the quartet.

"Is that our favorite mullatto?"

Everybody diverted their attention towards the girl. She glew with happiness while her hair blew into the wind. A multitude of curls dominated her hair and hair didn't seem to be free flowing and out of control. It was the hair that she always wanted and bow finally recieved. The girl couldn't contain her joy that, finally, she was more like the crowd around her. Finally, she didn't feel like an outcast. She felt like she was accepted.

"Oh, look at mah girl, Jazmine," the blonde cooed. "You is goin' ta kill dem at dat contest girl."

"Finally, got dat nappy ass hair fixed," Riley inserted. "Bout time."

As the interracial troublesome duo gawked at the girl's hair, Huey was not amazed. His eyes projected almost deafening disapproval if eyes could physically conjugate words. His dissappointment was oblivious to the biracial girl, who was too busy sucking in the adulation from her friend, but it was clearly visible to anybody paying attention to him. Huey closed his eyes, looked down, clenched his straps of his backpack, took a deep breath, and turned around to press on towards school. Caesar was in awe of his friend's sudden mood swing.

"What's wrong?"

Without turning around and offerring his best friend a glance, Huey offered just one statement.

"Whats the point of talking if people don't ever listen?"


Its showtime.

Jazmine's big moment was finally here. All her friends were in attendence, and everybody was watching. This was her time, and nobody was going to take that from her. The girl couldn't wait for this moment and it seemed to had taken an eternity to finally come around. When the moment arrived, she was as giddy as a black girl at a Trey Songz concert. For the first time in her life, she was confident.

The contest was structured like this. Every coordinator would open and present for their prospect. They usually state what they did to help their model, and then gloat about the progress. Of course, not all were comfortable with this format.

"What kind of bullshit is this," the Great Miss Cee protested in his characteristic of uncharacteristically breaking his feminine demeanor.

"Well," the school's office assistant, who was the organizer for the event, let out in a way that shown she was clearly intimidated by his flamboyance, "the girls don't have much of a presence to simply walk down the aisle and garner the audience's attention. So we figured-"

"Whatevahhh" the fabulous flamer cut off the stutterring mess. He placed his hands on his hips and stuck his nose defiantly in the air as he walked away.

Jazmine wasn't deterred by this new obstacle. She was on an euphoric high and there was absolutely nothing that could bring her down. She felt invincible. She felt untouchable.

In the audience, the Freeman family and Caesar were looking for seats. They recieved an invitation from the Dubois household; and since Caesar's family couldn't attend, he hitched a ride with the Freemans. The only reason that Robert wanted attend was the promise of free food while Huey and Riley were dragged along for the ride.

"Man, Granddad," Riley scowled. "Why we gotta come to this gay ass shit anyways? Ain't like Jazmine supported anything we done."

"Boy hush," the griseled old man. "If you want sumthin' to eat fah dinner, then I suggest you stay yo uppity badass here and shut da hell up. Back in my day, we appreciated a free meal. Shoot mhmmm, we worked fah every bite we got. I remember back in the day when-"

Both Huey and Riley tuned their Granddad out when he uttered the words "back in the day."

Huey saw the Dubois family waving for their attention from a distance and decided that this was a time to interrupt his remininscing Granddad.

"Look, its Mr. and Mrs. Dubois." The boy interrupted, "And they saved us seats."

The quintet auickly scurried over towards the couple who were anticipating Jazmine's moment. Robert was the first to enter into his seat. Before he sat down, Huey called out tp him.

"Granddad," he called. "There are only two seats left."

The three boys just stared at eachother pondering who would take the remaining seats.

"Why don't you just have one of your boys sit on your lap, Robert," Sarah suggested.

Robert looked at his grandkids and then looked at Caesar, who had been searching through his Ipod and not really paying attention. He glanced at his boys again, and then back at the dread head.

A second later...

Huey and Riley sat in the remaining seats with their arms crossed while Caesar had the pleasure of sitting in Granddad's lap. Of course, the dreadhead found this moment comical.

"You are like the Granddaddy that I always wanted, but never got," Caesar snorted.

"We are still looking for that kind of Granddad," Huey stated in a monotone and flat voice.

"Boy, hush," the crotchety old man fired back at his grandson and then gave his attention to Sarah and Tom. "So when are they going to serve the free food?"

"After the pageant ends," Tom quickly responded and then glanced at the boys. "So how have you little guys been?"

"I've been keepin' it real. Gettin' this paper and not stuntin' dem hoes. Young Reezy got to watch his paperstack so da hatas ta keep on hatin'," Riley pounded his chest.

"O-kay," the lawyer, a bit stunned by his response, cut his attention to the never smiling young man at the end of the row. "How about you big guy?"

"Depends." the kid shrugged. "I've been labeled a domestic terrorist in my own country, the Teabagger movement continues to gain ground and Diddy is still cooning around."

"So he is just fine," Caesar interjected.

"Shh-Shhh. Hush. Hush. The show is about to start," Sarah frantically demanded.

"Welcome to the tenth annual Wah-Wah-Wah-wah-wah."

This show was boring. The only people that cared were the parents of the contestant that was on the stage at the time. It was just a gigantic waste of time and effort as they only attempted to bolster the girl's ego and nothing else. Granddad fell asleep and started talking in his sleep about Alicia Keys. Caesar didn't even pay attention to the pageant and kept his eyes glued to the Ipod screen. Riley took advantage of every opportunity to haze every contestant. Huey didn't even acknowledge the participants. He was reading a newspaper. The entire audience was asleep as if to say that they were dragged there.

Finally, it was Jazmine's turn. The Great Miss Cee stepped out in a golden veil covered in sequence. As he dazzled across, he took at a gander at the sea of snoozing and boredom.

"Ex-cusahhh me," the man voiced in the microphone.

Nobody made anything that would resemble a sound besides Granddad snoring and Caesar's music blaring out his headphones. There was nothing, but silence.

"Boooooo," a voice shouted from the audience. "Nigga you gay."

The Great Miss Cee, infuriated with the audience's apathy, snatched the mic off the stand and roared into it.

"If yall, muhfuckaz, don't wake da fuck up and listen ta me, I know sumthin!"

Huey lifted an eyebrow. Granddad and the rest of the audience woke up as if an atomic bomb went off. Riley's jaw dropped. The Great Miss Cee recieved everyone's attention except...

"Yeahhhhhhh," Caesar yelled while banging his head to his Ipod.

"Alright then," The Great Miss Cee cleared his throat as his voice was returning back to his regular feminine voice. "Now Ahhhh want to intrahduce mah ontrahnt, Jahzmeen Dubahhhw!"

The curtains opened to reveal Jazmine wearing a stunning blue dress. She practically glowed and illuminated the room. She was gorgeous.

But the crowd didn't care. She looked just like any other girl in the contest. There was nothing special about her.

"Its like they funneled one idea of beauty and churned it out for the masses," Huey inquired to himself.

Jazmine was stunned by the lack of audience reaction. The Great Miss Cee was pissed off.

"Oh hell naw," he spurred. "You bettah applaud mah hardwork!"

When nobody reacted to his demands, he chuckled. He chuckled like a maniac. The bystanders were a little distraught by his maniacal laughter. Before they can interrupt is creepy giggling, the Great Miss Cee took off his coat and threw the garment on the ground. People would have been disqusted by the G-string that he was sporting, but were awestruck by Dillion M134D Gatling gun he was handling. In otherwords, this guy was holding a gun that was made for helicopters. Everybody in audience fell into a deafening silence at the sight of this. Caesar, who had finally started to pay attention, and Huey said the only thing that would fit the current situation.

"Oh shit."

At that, the Great Miss Cee began blasting the humongous piece of hardware into the air. The entire auditorium burst into pandemonium and terror as everybody sprinted towards the doors.

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," Tom and a few others shrieked.

"Man, this why we can't go nowhere with black folks," Caesar inserted to Huey while shoving his way through the front door.

As everyone scattered through away, the Great Miss Cee was still spraying bullets around the auditorium with a sense of purpose and indignation.

"You mah fuckaz will appreciate mah aht," he screeched.


The boys were walking as if it were any other day that didn't come after the day that a maniac wielding a helicopter gun decided to go Inglorious Basterds on innocent bystanders. Nobody was severely hurt and the culprit was still at large.

"Man, I'm telling you," Caesar held out his arms trying to convince his friend, "Jackie Chan is better than Jet Li."

Ever since the incident at the pageant, Huey and Caesar vowed to never speak of it again. So they discussion everything and anything that didn't relate to it.

"Jackie Chan is like the Chinese version of Gary Coleman." Huey shrugged. "Jet Li is like the continuation of what Bruce Lee wanted."

"Whatever, man," the dread head rolled his eyes. "You can't tell me-"

The boys suddenly stopped as their biracial friend appeared in their sights behind Huey and Caesar's favorite hangout tree. She was oblivious to their presence because her eyes were focused on golden sunset.

"Alright, peace," the aspiring emcee finished his statement and started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Huey demanded.

"Look, that maniac is still at large and if he decides to come back to his masterpiece with that big ass gun..." the boy explained.

"Alright, alright, alright," the revolutionary silenced his friend. "I'll catch you later then."

Caesar nodded and then gave his buddy a peace sign as he departed. Huey turned his attention to the wide eyed girl who still had het eyes piercing the radiant sky. Huey quietly approached her and then sat down next to his shy friend. She turned to her visitor.

"Hi, Huey," she squeaked while closing her eyes in glee as her strawberry blonde hair matched the color of the twilight sky. Huey was shocked that her hair returned back to the poofy form.

"Hey, Jazmine," Huey blinked. "So what happened to your hair?"

Jazmine was confused by the question at first and then noticed what he meant.

"Oh," she curled her afro. "Daddy didn't want anything to do with my former coach so he decided to undo the perm or whatever he did to my hair as soon as we got home."

Tom's paranoia wasn't such a bad thing for once. Huey shrugged and then noticed a lone yellow flower that stood out on the hill. Huey got up and picked off the ground as his biracial friend watched him. He walked back and then handed the daisy to her.

"I figured that this flower was tired of being alone," Huey responded in an emotionless way.

Jazmine,flattered by the boy's gesture, grabbed the flimsy floral and placed it in her hair. Her emerald eyes gleamed at her friend as he sat right back next to her.

"So I hear Linsey Lohan was crying because she was sentenced 90 days in prison," she randomly inserted, trying to start a conversation.

"Eh," Huey opened up a book. "She better be grateful that she wasn't sentenced as a black man."


*sigh* Looking at my old work makes me sad.

I doubt that you guys are willing to re-review the tale if you already read this. Then again, it seems that the people who already reviewed ceased writing. So review if you find it refreshing...at all.