A/N: Random idea that came to me after I was on Facebook one day. This kinda goes along with Beneath The Surface… but in an unimportant and totally indirect way. Like, you don't even have to read that one to get this in any way, shape, or form… Enjoy ;)


"I'm not a Facebook status. You don't have to like me."

-Wiz Khalifa


The annoyingly bright rays of the early morning sun shone brightly on the young revolutionist's face. It was a Saturday, which meant he got to sleep in a little for some much deserved rest. Huey sat up in his bed, slowly stretching his arms above his head. Glancing over at his alarm clock, his eyes widened in shock. It was already 8:30.

Never in his life has he slept past seven... Ever.

He sighed, walking past Riley's still sleeping form and entering the bathroom. In exactly fifteen minutes he was supposed to be all the way across town. His assignment was to pick up Samuel L. Jackson at the airport, and escort him safely to Baltimore to attend the African American Festival. Even if Grandad allowed him to borrow Dorothy, there's no way in hell he'd make it in time…

Eh, he thought, brushing his teeth. He'll be a'ight. Besides… his thoughts drifted as he rinsed his mouth out with water. Why would anyone try to assassinate Samuel L. Jackson?

And just like that, he was free from his obligations as a Freedom Fighter. Now he had this entire Saturday to himself… What now? He walked back across the hall and sat down on the edge of his bed, retrieving his favorite book from underneath. "Malcolm X…" he sighed, making himself comfortable and flipping to the first page.

Just as he started really getting into it, he felt the familiar vibration of his cell phone, which rested beside him on his comforter. Placing the much abused book face down on his chest, he retrieved his smartphone.

Saturday, July 6th

10:00 a.m.

Incoming message from:

Jazmine D.

Heyyy Hueyyyyy :)

*-* Come At Me, BRO! :P

Huey rolled his eyes. It was truly amazing the amount of annoyances that single text message gave him. He sighed, tapping the 'reply' button.

Saturday, July 6th

10:06 a.m.

Outgoing message to:

Jazmine D.

What do you want.

Feeling slightly less peaceful, he attempted to return to his book. What seemed like twenty seconds later, his phone vibrated again. He sighed, sarcastically thinking: who needs literature anyway? He closed his book, returning it to its original spot. Sitting up in his bed, he opened his new text.

Saturday, July 6th

10:07 a.m.

Incoming message from:

Jazmine D.

You're meeeeean! :'(

*-* Come At Me, BRO! :P

Well, excuse him for wanting to know why she was disturbing him. He hadn't said it to intentionally hurt her feelings, but if that's what ended up happening… oh well. Not his problem. And from the looks of things, she didn't really want anything at all except mindless small talk. Without replying, he carelessly tossed his phone back onto his comforter. Yeeeeeah, he was pretty much finished with this conversation…

By now, Riley's lazy ass was up doing Ghandi knows what on their desktop computer. Seven years later and they still shared a room, much to each of their protests. Huey often preached to Grandad of the total lack of privacy and utter disregard of cleanliness on Riley's part. And Riley reminded him daily of just how gay their situation was. Even Huey had to admit… there was an awful lot of testosterone in this room.

"Awww, shit!" Riley exclaimed, snapping Huey out of his thoughts.

"What?" He asked, not even remotely interested.

"That nigga dead! Foreal doe! He dead!" He responded, his eyebrows raised to his hairline and a large grin of shock plastered on his face.

Huey raised an eyebrow in confusion. "…who are we talking about again?"

Riley turned the chair to face his older brother, giving him a deadpanned expression. "Nigga, who you think? The 'Snakes on a Plane' motha fucka!"

Huey's eyes narrowed. "You can't be talking about Samuel L. Jackson…"

Riley face palmed, turning back to the computer screen. "Nawwwwwwww, I'm talkin' bout the other 'Snakes on a Plane' nigga… Nigga, you slow!"

Wait… how would that even be possible? He thought. "Riley, how do you even know about this?" Huey asked, skeptical of the whole situation.

"It happened, like, a hour ago," he snickered. "Slow ass nigga."

Huey rolled his eyes, growing annoyed. "Okay… But how did you find out about it?"

"Facebook, nigga."

Facebook. The center of social media hell. People start drama on there, knowing they won't say shit to your face. People claim they're single on there, knowing damn well they have a wife and six kids at home. Now, apparently, people are spreading rumors that Samuel L. Jackson was dead. It gave Huey no faith in his generation. When MySpace died, Jazmine begged him to make a Facebook account (and still does…), Riley claims there to be lots of "bitches" on there, and Caesar, Hiro, and even Cindy just swear it's the best thing since sliced bread. Huey's never had a Facebook. And as far as he's concerned, he never will.


"So… he's really dead?"

"Yeah, man. He's really dead."

"Well, damn…" Huey was shell shocked. He had somehow slept later than usual that morning, negating his duties as Freedom Fighter Junior President. He sighed, resting his forehead on the table in his bedroom in disbelief. "This is my fault."

When his 'Afro-Haired Escort' (as the police reports refer to Huey as) failed to show up at the airport, Mr. Jackson hailed a taxicab. Somewhere between Baltimore and DC, a group full of niggas surrounded the taxi, ordering Mr. Jackson out. According to Black Eye Witness Man, the group of niggas were angry with the turnout of this years BET Awards ceremony. Apparently upset that it was Samuel L. Jackson, not Kevin Hart, that hosted the awards this year, the group full of niggas proceeded to drag Mr. Jackson into the street… and beat the living shit out of him.

"That's true," Caesar commented. "But personally, I'd blame those niggas who jumped him…"

"Obviously." Huey said, his head still resting on the table.

"Ya'know… none of this would've happened if you had a Facebook." Hiro said, stepping into the room with a large bowl of popcorn and plopping down on the foot of Riley's bed.

Not this Facebook shit again... Huey thought. He raised his head a little to look at his friend. "And how on earth do you figure that?"

"I'm just saying. Maybe you could've attempted to save him if you saw his last status update."

Huey sat up straight. "What?"

"His last status update." Hiro scrolled through his smartphone, looking for something. "It said something like… Oooo, here it is."

At the sight of food, Caesar had hopped from Huey's bed to Riley's. Stuffing his face with buttery deliciousness, he watched the encounter between his two best friends. Reading the screen of Hiro's Blackberry, Caesar's face looked torn between sadness and amusement. He glanced over at Huey. "C'mere, you."

Huey rolled his eyes, but obediently made his way over to his brother's bed. Why were his friends making such a big deal about a stupid status update? When he sat down on the edge of he bed, Hiro handed him his cell phone. Scanning the screen, Huey saw something that blew his mind.

Catalina Lovin'Lifee Dominguez shared Samuel L. Jackson's status.

HELP! NIGGAS TRYNA KILLLL ME! D: #9-1-1!

-sent via iPhone

Huey blinked. It's amazing the nigga had time to post a status on Facebook from his cell phone, but didn't have time to call 9-1-1… He continued to read the rest of the Catalina girl's post.

R.I.P. Sam Jackson. So sad how NOBODY helped him! :( Smh, niggas be absolutely crazy nowadays…

38 likes,16 comments

Huey felt guilty. He was supposed to be the one to help him, specifically if things like that happened. He decided it wouldn't hurt to read some of the comments.

Victoria Swaggalicious Raymond: Kevin Hart's my motha friggin dude… but I wouldn't kill niggas over him lol

Right next to Victoria's comment was this small little shape. It looked like… a thumb? The fuck? And next to the thumb was a tiny seven. Okay, what did that mean? He continued.

Andre Bartholomew DuBois: I blame his afro haired escort. Like, why wasn't he where he was supposed to be? SHAKING MY HEAD. Whoever that guy is, he should really kick rocks… Like, REEEAAALLLLY!

Andre DuBois… Jazmine's crooked ass cousin? Was this dude trying to come at Huey discretely? How would he even know who the 'afro haired escort' is? His comment also had the little thumb symbol, except his had the number one next to it instead on seven.

"Fuck that…" Huey muttered. He tapped the 'comment' button, intending to shut Jazmine's stuffy cousin the hell up.

Hiro CheckMyBeatz Otomo: Andre Maybe his escort had a legitimate reason for why he wasn't there. Did you think about that? Shut your dumb ass up. You don't know a goddamn thing.

"Whoa, whoa, whooooooa!" Hiro laughed, reading the comment he was about to post using his account.

"What?" Huey asked, ready to defend himself online.

"Huey… you can't just verbally abuse people on the internet." Caesar said, chuckling.

"Using my profile…" Hiro muttered.

Huey rolled his eyes, erasing the unposted commented. "Whatever."

"He's right, ya'know,"Caesar commented, poking Huey repeatedly in the arm. "And if the Freedom Fighter's Junior President had a Facebook, we'd be a lot more efficient."

Hiro nodded. "True story," he added.

Huey swatted Caesar's hand away, frowning. Maybe… just maybe… his friends were right. Had he had a Facebook three hours ago, he could've at least alerted the other Fighters of the attack. He hated to admit it, but having a Facebook could probably increase productivity by about twenty-five percent… Huey sighed, feeling internally defeated.

"Uhhhh! Gay ass niggas all up on my bed!" Riley came storming into the room, clad in blue basketball shorts and a gray beater. He folded his arms, glaring at his brother and his company.

Huey rolled his eyes, returning Hiro his Blackberry. He stood up from the bed, heading towards the computer.

"Yeah nigga, that's what I thought…" Riley mumbled, untying his Jordan's.

After mentally choking himself, Huey went to Internet Explorer, typing in a website he never thought he'd ever use in reality.

Curious as to what his friend was doing, Hiro hopped off of Riley's bed and walked over the computer. Kneeling beside Huey, he let out a disbelieving laugh. This dude… is actually on… FACEBOOK!

Never enjoying being 'laughed at', Huey glared at him. "What are you laughing at?" He asked, his tone anything but friendly.

"Heh, nothing man…" Hiro stood up, walking towards the bedroom door and giving Caesar and Riley dap on the way out. He simply had to go home and add him, so that he could tag him in the biggest 'I-told-ya-so' post ever. "Have fun in social media hell!" He called from the hallway.

"I'm tryna figure out why yo ass is still on my bed!" Riley yelled, gesturing to Caesar. He refused to look gay by sitting on the same bed as another nigga. "The other niggas raised up, but yo gay ass is still here!"

Caesar faked a yawn, kicking his feet up and stretching his arms behind his head. "Don't worry, Reez. There's pleeeeeeenty of room for you…" He drifted off suggestively, struggling not to laugh.

"…." Riley stormed out of the room, muttering about his gay ass brother and his gay ass friends.

Huey shook his head. He seriously needed new friends… When he was navigated to the homepage, he saw a button that said create a profile. He had a brief moment of mental deliberation. Clicking this button would mean contradicting anything he's ever said about social networking sites. Clicking this button would make him a hypocrite. Clicking this button would change life as Huey Freeman knew it.

Sighing, he clicked the button. Little did he know how much this seemingly small decision would turn out impacting his life in a major way…


A/N: Originally this was supposed to be a one shot… but honestly, I'm having waaaaay too much fun writing this lol. It could go in so many different directions… the possibilities are endless! ^-^ Sooooo a two shot? Short story, maybe? Let's just see where this thang goes…

Disclaimers: Obviously The Boondocks ain't mine! I don't own Facebook, BET or the BET Awards, Samuel L. Jackson, Kevin Hart, computers, Blackberrys, Jordan's, afro haired escorts… I'on own shiiiiyt! :P

Did ya like? Te gusta? Should I continue to write about Huey's misadventures with Facebook? (Lol, I'd still continue regardless of what you people think… :P) Ayo! Click clack me them thoughts in a reviewww! :3

~*CiCi ^_^*~