Author's Note:
This was a creative assignment for class and...a very strange story.
...
LULZ (League of Unholy LegendZ)
A Boondocks Fanfiction
All characters are in-character (more or less)
Chapter One: Networking is key
"And if you add ¾ to ½ then what would your sum be?" asked a hazy voice in the distance. "Riley?" asked the voice sternly, "What are you doing?"
Riley snapped out of his daydream. He promptly grunted once he realized that he was not playing in the soccer field that he had been staring at before. Instead, he was drifting off in his third grade math class.
"What you want, Perkins?" he yelled indignantly, "You hatin' on me just cus I know I could be doin' somethin' better with my life?"
Mrs. Perkins was not amused, but of course after teaching Riley for seven months now, she was not surprised at his behavior.
"I don't know Mr. Freeman. What could you be doing right now?"
-"I could be"-wait, Riley stopped mid-sentence.
It was then that Riley realized what he was about to say: daydreaming about playing outside? Hell no! A month ago, Riley would have been plotting how to tag his neighbor, Tom Dubois' house without getting caught. He would have been fantasizing about stealing Granddad's car for a stroll to the video game store. Instead, he was thinking about doing something….innocent? No way, that is not what, Riley Escobar Yosemite-Sam Freeman is about! What happened? He became…docile.
Brrrnnnng!
Riley leaped out of his chair and consciously reminded himself to push Cindy McPhearson and trip Mike Chang while he ran by them. Wow, he thought, I really am trippin' if I had to take time to remember that.
While walking from the school doors, Riley was stopped by his brother, the young radical Huey Freeman.
"Hello Riley. I know better than to ask you this, but did you even pay attention in class today? I hear that your class has a big test coming up."
"Like you should ask!" barked the child, "You don't even pay attention in your class! How many times has the teacher wrote a note home saying 'Huey being uncooperative today?'"
"Well there is no point in me paying attention," retorted Huey, "I've known basic geography, reading, and long division since I was three."
Huey was not boasting at all, neither was he exaggerating his skills. Indeed, he was ready to begin studying at the high school or even the college level. So capable was he that he was at the point where he could spout the didactic lessons before the words would even leave the teacher's mouth, and sometimes, to his educators' chagrin, he would do just that. If examining his behavior superficially, your average person may ask "Why are you doing this, Huey? You are obviously smart, why don't you ask the school to give you more challenging work?" His answer, depending on how well he knew you, would usually be, "What's the point of achieving higher learning if you are still being fed the same Eurocentric agenda?" The person asking the question, now knowing the boy's rather radical ideology, would then wish that they had never said anything at all.
"But my situation is different" responded Huey, "I already know the material because I apply myself. You're smart, but you aren't even giving yourself the chance to learn the lessons."
"I guess we're two sides of the same coin then?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Cus' we're both smart, but we're not letting ourselves reach the potential that others want us to reach."
Huey smiled but then his smile began to fade. Riley was intelligent indeed. So intelligent that he was able to make connections between the both of them that, no matter how differently they acted, they were essentially doing the same thing.
"Riley," Huey started, "I know that you like soccer and that you're a good artist. The soccer team needs a team logo and mascot but they can only have a team member design it. Try outs are next week and I am going to try. Are you going to join?"
Riley thought about it. I guess that sounds kind of,…WAIT A MINUTE!
"Forget about your stupid soccer team! That's some mothafuckin herb shit, right there. No. Hell no! I'm starting my own club for real playas who don't sell out to goody-two shoes and play….soccer. NO!. Forget it!"
"Riley, come back (sigh)."
Riley sat at the family computer and clicked the keys idly. He had a five-page book report due tomorrow and of course he had waited until the last minute to write it.
AND THE 2 KIDS FOUND A PONY NAMED MISTY. THEY LIVED IN CHINCOTEAGUE, MARYLAND AND COULD NOT WAIT TO GET THE PONY. THE MOTHER OF THE PONY WAS PHANTOM…OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.
Riley hated writing. It was never what he wanted to write about anyway. If the report were about something he could actually relate to such as his homeys back in Chicago or his favorite idol, Gangstalicious' struggle with the police, then that would be a real report worth creating. But of course, here in Woodcrest, MD, the epitome of suburbia, no person could relate to that…at least not without the aid of MTV.
And then Riley remembered his brother and the nerve he had to suggest him going out for sports—as if he had nothing better to do with his life! What did he think he was? An herb like him? Well, Riley Escobar knows better than to front like he's a nerd.
After remembering his brother's offer to join the soccer team, Riley then became angry. If Huey was doing this project, he would have waited until the last day just as he did, but instead, would have read the book in 30 minutes, and then write an A-quality report in ten minutes. And that of course would be without him really trying. Riley curled his small fists in fury….but then calmed down. He remembered that he was a lot like Huey after all. When writing about something he was interested in, Huey could write impressive pieces of literature. Last Christmas, Huey was so convinced that Santa Claus had ties to the Illuminati, that he wrote a scholarly report complete with appendixes and footnotes for which he was preoccupied with for the subsequent three months. They both could be pretty lazy, but when it came to something they were interested in, they were the best experts on the subject.
I'm starting my own club for real playas who don't sell out to goody-two shoes like…soccer
Riley minimized the text document and logged onto his Facebook page
YOU HAVE FIVE (5) FRIENDS!
Riley hated seeing that friend box. It is not as if he did not receive friend requests from the classmates that were hopelessly enamored with the gangsta image he promoted. It was just that he did not want those kids destroying his reputation in case Gangstalicious were to look up his page.
Riley selected the "create a group" tab from his profile page and began typing.
THIS IS FOR ALL THE REAL TROUBLEMAKERS, CRIMINALS AND STRAIGHT UP VILLAINS OUT THERE! JOIN RILEY'S LEAGUE OF UNHOLY LEGENDZ (LULZ)! NOW!
Riley published the page and logged off of his account. He had plenty more typing to do on his report.