Walk In My Shoes

By DaveTheWordsmith

Disclaimer: Boondocks is owned by Sony Pictures Digital Inc. and Aaron McGruder. All the copyrights associated with Boondocks belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

Chapter One

'Sup, y'all. 'Dis is ya boy. Riley Freeman: a.k.a. Riley Escobar. Young Reezy. 'Dat nigga you love ta' hate but don't wanna hate ta' love. Like they say, a nigga don't wanna fuck wit' a nigga like me 'cause a nigga like me don't fuck around. No homo.

Yeah, I'm 'dat nigga 'dat made yo' bitch leave you or yo homie and come ta' me. Yeah, 'dat's me to a T.

But yo, check 'dis out, right? Like Nate Dogg say, 'I ain't never loved no ho.'

At least, 'dat's what I thought 'til yesterday. 'Dat day changed a lot o' shit and how I feel 'bout things. I'll tell y'all what I'm talkin' about.

Come 'n' take a walk in mah' shoes.

"Get yo ass up! Get yo ass up! Get yo ass up! Get yo ass-"

I went 'n' touched 'da snooze button on my iPhone lyin' by mah' head so quick, you wud'da thought I was Bruce Lee brought back from 'da dead. Fa' real.

I still need ta' change 'dat fuckin' alarm 'doe. Cindy went 'n' changed it to 'dat annoyin' ass voice clip of T.I. Man, 'dat shit make me wanna keep mah' ass in bed even longer.

Ta' my right, Huey's bed is empty 'n' his bed is made, as usual. I worry 'bout him sometimes. Dude's so uptight, you could stick a piece o' coal up his ass 'n' a diamond'll pop out. One o' 'dem blood diamonds, too, since he all pro-black 'n' shit.

"Boy, you betta' get yo' ass up befo' I make my belt wail on yo' ass like Aretha Franklin in '68!"

Damn, Granddad! Cain't a nigga get a few mo' minutes of sleep in this muthafucka? Shit! Even me bein' thirteen years old now, he still wanna whoop mah' ass like Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee 'n' Jet Li put togetha'.

I don't know 'bout y'all, but gettin' up at 7 o'clock in 'da summertime ta' make me 'n' Huey have ta' do garden work is a bitch! We cain't even make a bowl of cereal, a pop tart, or nuttin' first!

But I finally got up 'n' out of bed 'n' into 'da bathroom, 'n' I do what I gotta do: shit, shower 'n' get mah' swag on. Lookin' at myself in 'da mirror, 'dis summer, 'dis thirteen year old is definitely gone' get all 'da bitches.

"C'mon Riley, we gotta go and trim those bushes before Granddad gets in our asses again," Huey peeked his head through the door, lookin' serious as hell. 'Da nigga ain't even knock, eitha'. What kinda shit is that? Fuck him 'dough, I'm still gonna get mah'self lookin' right befo' I'm through.

"Pause," 'dat was prolly 'da hundredth time I used 'dat shit 'dis week, 'specially wit' him 'n' Granddad. Just hearin' Huey slip like 'dat wanted ta' make me laugh, but I knew that if I did, he was prolly gone' fight me right here 'n' now in 'dis bathroom. "Too easy," I whispered.

"Riley," He was gettin' agitated, and 'dat's exactly how I wanted him ta' get, so we could get 'da work done faster. He stepped out 'da doorway so I could get out. He was wearin' his usual pro-Black t-shirt 'n' Army fatigue pants shit. I didn't wanna get mah' fresh shit messed up from 'da yard work, so I got dressed in mah' wife-beater 'n' baggy jeans.

"Huey, I know why you wanna get 'dis shit done so quick. You tryna' get up in 'dem girl's guts, huh?" C'mon, Huey. You knowin' damn well you wanna get some cut from Jazmine ta'night. Even he don't wanna do the work as much as I do.

Huey was slow ta' react on 'dat one. I knew I hit dude's soft spot. "Whatever," he said as I followed him downstairs into 'da livin' room.

Damn 'dat bacon smelled good. I bet it's 'dat apple cured bacon, too. I can't wait 'til I'm done with 'dis dumb ass work, so I could get me some. Only thing 'dat broke me out of 'dat good feelin' of smellin' 'dat good ass food was walkin' into 'da garage ta' get 'dem expensive ass gardenin' tools Granddad left for us to get. I know he steady laughin' like a mad scientist 'cause he gets ta' work us like we slaves, while he get ta' sit 'n' watch TV all day.

"And don't forget ta' water 'da lawn, take out 'da trash, wax 'da kitchen floor, sand down 'da-"

As we stepped out ta' 'da front yard, Granddad's words was soundin' like Charlie Brown's teachers, just a bunch o' wompwompwompwomp shit. He was still runnin' off at 'da mouth, yellin' out orders. Why he ain't just go 'n' get Lando who got more experience wit' 'dis shit, 'n' could prolly do it for free, too!

"Let's jus' get 'dis shit ova' wit'," Huey looked at me. I knew he was waitin' for what I was gone' say. "And so you can get wit' Jazmine later on 'n' hit 'dat."

Huey's eyes glared at me as he started trimmin' a bush wit' an electric bush trimmer. He may've been mad but he knew I was right.

After we finished cuttin' everythang we needed ta' do, 'da shit was lookin' nice like some shit you'd find on Better Homes and Gardens. Huey went on inside, prolly ta' go on his laptop or somethin'.

"Hey, Riley!" I turned around ta' see some chocolate chick from mah' school, wit' a fat ass, wearin' booty shorts walkin' by 'da yard wit' her small ass dog on a leash. Her long hair damn near went ta' 'da top of her ass, too!

"Sup shawty," I walked up ta' her 'n' she stopped, along wit' her dog. At 'dat point, 'dere was no doubt she would be givin' it up. 'Da happy look on her face gave it away. After a few minutes of choppin' it up wit' her, I told her I had ta' bounce, so she took my number 'n' left. Shanelle was her name, but soon she'd be screamin' out my name wit' her face down, ass up in da' air, beggin' fa' mo'.

Soon as she left, I went back inside 'n' threw my ass on 'da couch. Granddad came in 'da room. He burped 'n' started rubbin' his stomach befo' he sat in his chair. Guess he jus' got finished eatin'.

I turned ta' look at 'em. "Granddad, there still any breakfast left?"

He shook his head. "Nope, Huey done ate it all. Boy's stomach's so big now, he almost went 'n' ate my food, too! I ain't cookin' no mo' food this mornin', so you bettah' go 'n' fix some food ya' own damn self!"

"Dayum! Fuckin' Huey!"

"Hey, watch yo' mouth, boy!"

Guess I can still go on down ta' McWuncler's 'n' get me a McWuncler Sausage Griddle wit' cheese. I ain't gone' be cookin' shit today!

Soon as I was 'bout ta' get up 'n' go, my damn iPhone rang. I had ta' put 'dat "All About the Money" by Gucci Mane 'n' Rick Ross as my ringtone, 'cause 'dat's me all day.

I accepted 'da call, 'cause I knew who it was. "Sup, this's Young Reezy, and it's you, my favorite young breezy. W'sup, Cindy?"

"Riley, we gotta talk! This's serious, for real, baby," she sounded like she got done cryin' or somethin' 'cause her voice was all shaky.

'Da first thing I wanted to know was what 'da fuck's goin' on? "Oh it's like 'dat? 'Den wussup?"

'Den, 'da shit she said next hit me in 'da chest like one of Huey's kicks.

"Baby, I think I'm pregnant…"

Maybe one o' 'dem kicks from Huey wouldn't be so bad right 'bout now.