A/N: This is my first fan fic and I decided to deal with a subject that is very serious in today's world. Of course it will have that Boondocks flavor (I hope). I don't know how long this will be but I do know that it will have (hopefully) an amazing story. So, just sit back, enjoy, and leave a review if you can.


Pistol Whipped

Chapter 1 - "Obama is Bitch Ass Nigga"

It was a hot day as always in Woodcrest. Huey, Riley, and Grandad all sat in the brightly lit living room, watching the music video of Gangstalicious' latest hit, dubbed "Slap a Hoe". Riley was once again getting into it.

"Oh yeah, that's my nigga right there, doin' it big again," Riley said as he sat on the floor, his face practically on the screen.

Huey glanced over at the TV and rolled his eyes, before going back to a history book he was reading. Grandad just watched with a "what the fuck?" look on his face the whole time. He was all for hoes and slapping, but the repetitiveness had been close to giving him aneurysms.

"Slap a hoe!- EY!
"Slap a hoe!- EY!
"Slap a hoe!- EY!
"Slap a hoe!- E-"

Suddenly, the screen went black and switched over to a news broadcast. Riley's temper rose like childhood obesity.

"News!? I ain't wanna watch some gay ass news."

"Can't be any more gay than Gangstalicious," Huey replied in his calm tone, refusing to look up from his reading.

Riley snapped his head around towards his brother, "Nigga, I just got done tellin-"

"-Hush boy!" Grandad interrupted, "I don't wanna hear another word about that Gangstalickdicks, now let me see the damn television."

"His name is Gagsta...Li-cious, and he ain't be lickin' no dicks, neither..."

"Nigga, if I say he lickin' the dick,he lickin' the dick...now get cho ass on the couch...blockin' my TV..."

"Ugh..."

Riley recieved another glance from Huey as he reluctantly sat on the couch next to Huey.

"No Homo."

"...Whatever."

Finally, as only Riley and Grandad payed attention, it was quiet enough to hear what the news anchor was saying.

"...again, we should be taking you live to the White House in just a minu-oh, I'm getting word that-yes, the President is ready...let's go live to President Obama as he addresses the American people..."

Huey immediately looked up from his book, thinking, "what garbage is this man going to spit now?"

Another black screen appears and slowly fades. Obama is seen at his desk with both hands on it, looking like he only can.

"...My fellow Americans, today is a great day...a historic day. This past year, we sat at our homes and watched in agony as death tolls of another mass shooting were reported. We were shocked...and angered, but most of all, we as a people were afriad of the direction our country was taking..."

Huey had now put his book down and was watching intently. "This can't be what I think it is," he thought.

"...Over the last few months, I have worked with congress towards a solution to this problem...and the only one we all agreed on was..."

"It's exactly what I think it is."

"...the complete ban and confiscation of all firearms in America..."

"WHAT!?"


I am the stone that builder refused,
I am the visual,
The inspiration,
That made lady sing the blues,

I'm the spark that makes your idea bright,
The same spark,
that lights the dark,
So that you can know your left from your right,

I am the ballot in your box,
The bullet in your gun,
The inner glow that lets you know,
To call your brother son,
The story that just begun,
The promise of what's to come,
And I'm 'a remain a soldier till the war is won.


Grandad's scream nearly shattered windows as he stood up, "has this man lost his damn MIND!?"

"...now I know what a lot of you are thinking, have I lost my mind? No. It was a collective decision based upon-"

"Power and greed," Huey answered as he tuned out the rest of Obama's speech.

"Ey," Riley looked up from his iPhone and looked surprised at the look on Granddad's face, "what happened? I wusn't payin' attention."

"The end Riley, that's what happened." replied Huey as he gave him a powerful but caring glare.

"Whachu talking bout' nigga? What end?"

"The man just took away our guns! I can't believe it!" Granddad looked on in disbelief as Obama signed the documents.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, so..." Riley began, "we can't use guns any more?"

"No!" Granddad screamed, "can't you see!? No pistols, no shotguns, no rifles, no nothing..."

"I know what's gonna happen..."

Robert and Riley turned their attention towards the Afro-haired one as he stared at the TV with a scowl.

"Ever since Sandy Hook, I knew the government would vote to take away our gun rights because of fear."

"But ain't that a good thing though?" asked Riley, earning stares from both his brother and Granddad. "I mean..." he continued, "I'm as gangsta as a nigga Honey Badger, but...that nigga killed some innocent kids and the other nigga shot up a theater, I mean...that's messed up."

"Which is why we should research mental disabilities, not ban guns " Huey said, "but of course-"

Just then, the sound of a phone ringing shot through their ears as Grandad quickly picked ot up.

"Hello?...yes, he's here...it's for you Huey."

Grandad handed the phone over to Huey as Riley began texting on his iPhone. Grandad began to pace back and forth while looking at the floor.

"Hello?"

"What's up little man?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Thugnificent."

"Yeah...I think you want Riley."

"Nah, nah, nah, see...I just got done watching my boy Obama-well I though he was my boy, before he turned out to be into a bitch ass nigga...anyway, I just got done hearing him say how he was taking all the guns away an' shit."

"Yup."

"And I just bought an AK-47 the other day, you know, nigga gotta step gun game up, you know?"

"...Mm-Hmm"

"So I was wondering if you can help a nigga out?

"With what?"

"Nigga, I know you have a plan for this shit, you probably have an extra brain in that big ass afro."

"I'm hanging up."

"-No! n-"

Huey slammed the phone back in its place, hearing claps from the TV.

"So why are you so worried Grandad?" asked Riley, still texting on his iPhone, "it's not like you have any-"

"I do."

"What?" both brothers snapped at the answer.

"Well," he began, "the truth is I've owned a some weapons for a while...for protection."

Huey and Riley both looked at him with a "huh?" expression.

The boys had always thought Grandad never owned any weapons, and for good reason. With all the shit they had been through, he had never once pulled out a weapon. One could only wonder what circumstances would make him do just that.

"And you just now tellin' us?" Riley asked.

"Boy, I can't be tellin' you where I keep my weapons! You cause enough trouble with those plastic ones already."

There was a short pause before both brothers replied, "True."

"Alright, Huey," started Grandad, "what's your big plan now? I can't have the government take away my guns! It's un-American."

"I don't really...have a plan," he answered.

"What do you me-"

Grandad was interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

"No! They can't take my guns now, what am I gonna defend myself with?"

The boys gave him a fiery glare.

"And you too of course."

"Yeah..." said Huey, "I don't think they can get here that fast, I'm sure its nothing."

With that, Huey made his way over to the door as Grandad cowered behind the couch. The door creaked open.

"Hello little nigglet, where's your Granddad?" That nigga owes money."

That could only be the words of Uncle Ruckus, standing there with his pink sweater and lazy eye.

"He's-"

Huey quickly turned back to see Grandad still hiding behind the couch. Riley was chilling on that same couch, still texting.

"-He's cowering behind the couch in fear of Government agents coming to confiscate his weapons."

Ruckus let himself in and peeked behind the couch to see Grandad looking under it.

"What's this I hear about confiscating weapons?" he asked as Grandad stood up.

Riley was quick to reply, without taking his eyes off of his iPhone, "Obama's takin' away our guns."

"Coon doin' what now?"

This time Huey answered, "Congress passed a bill which allows the government to confiscate and ban the use firearms."

Grandad now started to push the couch back as Riley chuckled at a text.

"Oh hell no!" Ruckus spewed, "...it's just like I thought, that shit smearin' anti-Christ is gonna bring about the end of America."

"Enough with the chit chat!" interrupted Grandad, "help me push this couch outta the way."

Huey then gingerly walked over and helped push, not sure of why he Grandad was doing what he was doing. Then, it became clear to him. A door.

The door was what appeared to be a very old cellar door. The brown wooden door had a handle and looked very much out of place.

"How long has that been there?" asked Huey.

"Oh damn, it's like that trap door outta Evil Dead," Riley said, finally putting his iPhone away.

Grandad ignored both of them and proceeded to open the door which led to complete darkness. He took a few steps down and started to reach out at the air.

"Where's that damn-Ah."

The light bulb then flickered on and lit the entire room for them to see. The room was noticeably moldy and full of cracks. The only thing in there but a big, black crate. The brothers followed their Granddad downstairs and next to the crate.

"Oooooh, I bet Grandad's packin' some AK's in there," said Riley.

"AK 47's are overrated," his brother replied while Ruckus made his way downstairs as well.

"Hater."

Grandad stood in front of the crate as if not wanting to open it for whatever reason.

"Alright Huey," said Grandad, "what do you think is gonna happen?"

"Happen with what?"

"You know...America, our rights, our liberties..." Grandad now turned around to face Ruckus and his two both grand kids. "I have lived and fought in this country for too long not to notice when it's going to hell...but I need to be sure if now is the right time to panic...is it time...to give up on America?

"Hol' up," said Riley, "how you know Huey gonna know what's gonna happen?"

"He's the smartest monkey I've ever layed my eyes on." suggested Ruckus.

Granddad turned to Huey, communicating through eye contact for him to answer his bold question. Ruckus and Riley too turned their attention to him. He sighed.

"Long story short...it's gonna be hell...Once the weapons are gone, more of the liberties we enjoy will be taken away like nobody's business. You think not having a gun is bad? How about no privacy? No voice? Cameras everywhere, FBI tracking your every move, having a number instead of a name..."

"All right, I get it!" shouted Granddad.

"You asked," answered Huey with a shrug as Granddad turned and slowly began to open the crate.

At that moment, Granddad thought about what he was going to do. Would he take the guns and hide? Run away? No. He and his ancestors had been through too much to just go out like little bitches. They had suffered too much to just give up the land that they fought for. Hell, for his money, African-Americans were the true patriots for fighting so every man can be equal. This was a much different situation, but in his heart, he knew he didn't want his grand kids growing up in a shitty America, but it was better than Canada or Mexico. No matter what Huey said.

He opened the crate all the way.

"Holy-"


A/N: Short chapter, I know. I am trying to get the characters and the tone of the show down right but tell me what you think. There are so many ways this story can go, haha. Next chapter will be up within a week if I don't get writer's block. Peace.