A/N: So, A Boondocks Thanksgiving, which takes place in the community of Woodcrest, which is written with my community! Lmao sorry I'm corny. But anyways, big thanks to: cutechibilolita, MaiXii, InvisibleGeek, MercuryManson and PalestinianEyes for co-writing this story with me. It means a lot, and I probably wouldn't be able to write a lot of things without my community members' input and help across the board. So. Big kudos to them, I appreciate them a lot. Also, if you like this, or even if you hate it, either way, check out their work. Really. Please do.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Boondocks or any of its characters
Jazmine walked through the Woodcrest park, sighing happily as a chilled breeze cooled her flushed skin, the frosted grass and fallen leaves crunching dully under her boots. Contentedly, she took in the November scene, bare branches stretching into the pale sky, reaching for a sun that was a pale ghost of its summer self. Geese flew overhead, and her grin only grew wider at the sound of them, excitement beginning to ripple it's way through her. She loved the holiday season, and everything that come with it, including the cold weather. Hurried now, she made her way to the oldest tree, who's twisting, ancient form sat rooted in a hill, bearing witness to the ever changing world.
An all too familiar silhouette stood beneath the tree, the tight curls his afro consisted of bobbing lightly in the wind, his mood a reflection of the frigid temperatures. Her rosy cheeks bunched up in a smile, and she found herself running against the wind.
"Huey!" She breathlessly called, waving a mittened hand and flashing pearly whites. The stoic boy turned towards her advancing form, his seemingly permanent frown only slightly diminished at the sight of her
"Geez it's cold up here!" She half-heartedly whined, pulling her jacket tighter around her petite frame. Huey's eyebrows raised, his voice strained as though out-of-patience.
"If you're cold then why did you walk all the way over here?" Used to his pessimistic attitude, Jazmine waved her hand, exaggerating her motions with feigned arrogance.
"Psssh, I need the exercise." Quickly dismissing his question, she jumped to another, more favorable topic, her emerald green eyes lighting up at the prospect of tomorrow.
"Anyways...Aren't you excited Huey!" She began to lightly spin, barely able to contain her jubilance.
Shoving his hands deeper in his pockets, Huey raised an eyebrow, stubbornly feigning ignorance.
"Fo' what?" She halted mid spin, all joy slipping from her slackened face as shock pulsed into her system.
"For what?" She echoed, disbelief coloring her voice. Furrowing her thin brows, the mulatto placed her hands on her hips, asking with a combination of disbelief and irritation.
"Didn't you know that tomorrow's thanksgiving?"
If Huey felt intimidated by the girls sudden attitude, he didn't show it, crossing his arms and plopping to the ground with a scoff. A short moment of silence was broken by his question, his voice soft but noticeably maddened.
"Why do you even like that holiday Jazmine?" His words dripping with venom and his wine eyes narrowed. Her face lit up, taking the sarcastic question literally, and she sat in front of him, legs crossed, confidently making eye contact with her friend's intense gaze.
"Let's see...It's a holiday to give thanks, and the food is really good!"
She paused, searching for words. "Our families can all get together and we get a week off of school. And we can remember how the pilgrims dined with the Native Americans." "Huey simply shook his head, not in the mood to put her foolhardy Eurocentric ideals to rest. She frowned at his expression, freckled nose crinkling.
"Don't you love all those things?"
Her green eyes sparkled with curiosity and he shifted uncomfortably, looking away with a scowl, his mood considerably darkening.
"Whatever, Jazmine."
His blasé reply gave the mulatto a poor taste in her mouth, irate notions swirling her stomach, and she stood, exclaiming, "Huey Freeman, you are so negative!" She melodramatically stalked off, nutmeg curls bouncing, and Huey sighed in response.
"Whatever."
What's the point of telling her the truth when she clung so desperately to her ignorance? He wasn't in the mood for this, or the holidays in general.
\-_-/
"Boy! Get yo ass ready and get down here!" Grandad yelled from downstairs.
Why do I have to be a part of this; I told him what Thanksgiving was really about but he still insisted on celebrating it, Huey thinks. He walks down stairs and into the kitchen.
"Grandad I told you a million times what Thanksgiving is about."
"Boy cut it out with your story of the Indians getting slaughtered."
"It's not a story it's history. And they're not 'Indians,' they're Native Americans; moreover, Lucayans and Mayans, and the other indigenous people who lived here before Columbus came. He was the idiot who called them Indians because he thought he was in India, before they didn't know of such lands. And also, they weren't JUST slaughtered. They were also raped, became slav-" Huey rambled on, just as Granddad cut him off.
"Boy you better not tell this story to our guests," Granddad warns. "Now go wash up."
Huey did not say anything else, he just went up to get ready like Grandad wanted.
He was finally out and heading into the living room. Cindy was there playing Call of Duty with Riley.
"Come on, Reezy, back me up! Shit, these hoe's crazy!"
"I'm trying," Riley starts. "Yeah, take that nigga! You saw that, C-murph? Headshot!"
Huey ignored them and began to read.
"Hey McHater! What you reading? Is it Twilight?"
"Very funny, Cindy. Why are you here anyway? I thought your parents wanted you to go to that fancy dinner party with them."
"My parents can't tell me what to do, I'm a real nigga."
Riley gave her a dap.
"Hell yeah, C-Murph."
"Boy watch yo mouth!" Grandad yelled from the other room.
"Shit, can't tell me what to do."
"What you say!" Grandad said as he pulled out his belt and cracked on the wall.
"Nothing."
"That's what I thought." Grandad mumbled something else as he walked back into the kitchen.
Huey sighed and kept reading. The door bell rang and Grandad yelled for one of the kids to get it, and of course it was Huey.
"What up my brotha from anotha motha," Caesar greeted him.
"Hey Caesar." He simply said as he walked in. We walked back to the living room.
"Hey guys! Riley let me try." Caesar said as he snatched the remote from Riley's hand.
"Nigga!" Riley yelled.
"Go Ceez, cap one in his ass!" Cindy yelled.
"What the fu- aye, y'all leave my lil' homie alone!" Ed Wuncler III exclaims as barges through the door of the Freeman household; his best friend, Gin Rummy, and his grandfather, Ed Wuncler Sr., right behind him.
Huey just read his book, and fell into another world; blocking out what was happening around him.
\-_-/
"Hey," Hiro says, closing the door after him. Huey looked at him, nodding in greeting, his thoughts going back to Grandad's cooking. There was silence for a second until Huey looked back at Hiro.
"You aren't spending this holiday with family?"
"My mom is working." Hiro says, his smile falling for a second, then returning. "Where's Riley?" He asks while Caesar enters the kitchen.
"Uhh," Huey starts, thinking of where his younger brother could be.
"Shit smells hella good!" Riley says. Ahh, so that's where he is, Huey thinks.
"Right? I can't wait to eat!" Caesar says, and the two continue to enthuse about the food. It was a shame to see them so excited over something that would kill them. It was as if they haven't seen Soul Food. A point he brought up last Thanksgiving.
"You might be put into a coma." Huey mutters and Hiro laughs. Hiro thought the food would be fine, but didn't want to say anything, avoiding a long rant by Huey.
"Nigga, shut up!" Riley says, still looking at the food. Caesar turns around, looking at Huey, crossing his arms.
"You don't understand Huey! This food is perfect! Your grandad really knows how to throw it down!" He says, turning back to drool over the cooked food. Huey sighs, looking at Hiro.
The doorbell rings as Huey shakes his head, causing Grandad to exit the bathroom. Hiro laughs again, watching as Huey exits the kitchen.
"Answer the door boy!" He shouts and Huey sighs once more, walking to the door. Grandad shoos the boys out of the kitchen, giving Riley the task to set the table. Riley begrudgingly accepts in fear of a whooping.
"Hi Huey!" Jazmine says, a large smile on her face as Huey opens the door.
"Jazmine," Huey says, moving out of the way so Jazmine and her parents could walk inside. He eyes the tupperware Sarah carried in her hands before shaking his head.
"Hello Robert!" Tom says, and the two greet each other. Riley walks up, looking at Sarah's tupperware with a frown. Riley knew she didn't try to cook again... It wasn't that bad, but he would never admit it. Once he said something, he meant it.
"Nigga, am I expected to eat this shit?" He asks, and Grandad glares at him.
"Shut yo mouth boy!" He says, giving Sarah an apologetic smile.
"I'm being serious Grandad! Why y'all keep lettin her cook?" He was answered with a slap.
"Go finish settin that table boy!" Grandad says, and Riley crosses his arms.
"I'm done though," He says, pouting.
"Boy, go sit down!" He commands, and Riley listens. Huey sighs once again. "Stop being rude!" Grandad continues, and Riley huffs.
"It's okay, Robert." Sarah says with a smile, placing the tupperware down. Riley watches as Grandad leaves, and he goes looking into the tupperware.
"Oh, she made the peach cobbler again!" He groans, sitting back down and crossing his arms. "This shit look like throw up. Again."
"BOYYYY!" You can hear Granddad yell from upstairs.
\-_-/
"I'm thankful for money, and Mexicans who don't care how much I pay them," Ed Wuncler Sr. starts, the first to speak on the post-grace "what you're thankful for" table activity.
"I'm thankful for all the bitches and hoes in the world," Ed Wuncler III continues the table activity.
"I'm thankful for all the alcohol I can get my hands on," Gin Rummy speaks.
"I'm thankful for Mr. Wuncler, who let us stay in this beautiful home, in the beautiful town," Granddad's kiss up side takes over.
"I'm thankful for technology," Hiro says.
"Thankful for my homies out in Brooklyn, and my homies right here at home," Caesar, the Brooklyn native, says.
"I'm thankful for all the real niggas in the world, y'know, teaching the fake niggas how to be or whatever," Cindy states, signaling she's proud of what she's thankful for by smirking and nodding her head at her words.
"I'm thankful for our wonderful family and friends," Tom says, and Sarah agrees; not adding on a twist of her own.
"I'm thankful for my friends, like Huey, and mommy and daddy," Jazmine says as her old naive self.
"I'm thankful for SOUL FOOD! Woo! All the mac'n'cheese, collard greens, chitlings, fried chicken... Mhmhmhm! Can't wait to get my hands on this!" Riley exclaims, very appreciatively of Granddad's cooking; just to be followed by his not so appreciative brother, or at least towards the food.
Huey continues to keep his lips pursed, as he's done since great, and Granddad yells to get his attention. "Boy, just say what you're thankful for."
Huey stood up from his chair as he observed everyone in the living room.
"What am I thankful for?" he begin, "Well, I do know what I'm not thankful for: this holiday. Thanksgiving is basically when white men tell their children that their ancestors "settled" here when the truth is that they invaded the Natives, murdered them, and raped them until they barely even existed. It's just a sad excuse for corporations to make more money off of idiots that believe in the false history being told about the holiday." He pausefor a moment and finished his rant with an utter, "We really are a nation of sheep ruled by a government of wolves."
Everyone at the table stood there; dumbfounded. Granddad snapped out of his own trance and yelled, "Dammit, boy! Now you've done it!"
Huey protested, "Granddad, I don't regret my words, because even though it's cruel, it's still the truth." He turned to look at the food on the table. "Like this meal, for example. You brought pork on the table. I've read Elijah Muhammed's 'How to Eat to Live' when I was nine. Elijah Muhammed depicted in his book: The pig is a mass of worms. Each mouthful you eat is not a nutritious food but a mass of small worms the naked eye cannot detect. Worms thrive in the hog. When these worms are digested into your system, they cause a high birth rate to hundreds of new worms called larvae which travels the blood stream of your system and lodge in your muscles. These worms even enter your brain, lungs or your spinal fluid. They cause muscular aches, fever and many other symptoms of sickness. The worm has an amazing ability to go undetected in your system for many years.
The guests observed the pork in disgust as Huey took a deep breath. "But if I were to be thankful for one thing in my life, it would be the time I had with my parents." Uttering the last two-worded syllable made Riley look up at his brother in melancholy. Huey dared not to make eye contact as he continued, "They say Thanksgiving is about being with family, but my mother and father aren't here. Even though we weren't the richest family, we still had each other. When one of us would struggle, we'd all struggle together. We all had our ups and downs, flaws, and even mistakes...but it's what brought us closer together.
"I was never the cheerful person, but with my parents, I felt that life was actually worth living. Yes, what I have with Riley and Granddad are still the same and I still love them despite their mistakes, but I'll never forget the two amazing people that gave me life and taught me that everything does happen for a reason."
It was complete silence until Jazmine spoke up. "What happened to your parents?"
Huey looked down once he heard that question. "Let's just say some things are meant to be unknown, meant to be unsaid, and meant to be unheard."
"But you just mentioned it," Jazmine argues.
"Yeah? Well I also mentioned that Thanksgiving isn't a valid holiday, and look how far that got me." Jazmine frowns in defeat, and stuffs her face full of mashed potatoes to help get rid of the urge to argue Huey's point. All is silent at the table, everyone stuffing their mouths with all they can get-besides Huey, that is-until the door opens and one who's quite unpleasant calls out.
"Well, look at all y'all niggas gathering around, effecting dear, old Mr. Wuncler with your coon diseases," the unpleasant voice, known as Uncle Ruckus (no relation), remarks in the same old racist fashion.
"Boo, nigga!" Riley boos through a mouth full of food, already forgetting the words his brother recited from Elijah Muhammad's "How to Eat to Live."
"Ruckus! What are you doing in my house?" Granddad yells.
"I still don't understand how such smart, nice white folks living in the same town as y'all negroes," Ruckus continues his unnecessary comments.
"I'll take care of him Robert; I better be going anyways," Ed Wuncler Sr. assures Granddad, making his way to the front door.
"Yeah, we out too," Ed Wuncler III adds on, and him and Rummy follow his grandpa's steps.
Granddad sighed a relieved sigh, and the Thanksgiving dinner resumed; nevertheless, everyone left soon after this first occurrence.
"Bye, Robert! Bye, boys!" Sarah calls out cheerfully, as her, her husband, and her daughter make their way out the door; about ten minutes after Caesar, Cindy and Hiro had left. Toms waves his hand goodbye, as if to, in a way, support his wife's last statement. Jazmine, however, turns around; prepared to say more than just 'bye.'
"Huey, I'm just letting you knows that if you ever wanna talk, I'm here. Caesar's here. Hiro's here. Even Cindy's here. And of course your family... They might not show it everyday, or the might not show it at all, but they really are proud of you, and truly thankful for your presence everyday, as are your friends. Me. Your parents, too."
"Jazmine, I don't believe in that kind of thing," Huey refuses to let Jazmine's a almost wise words take over his mind.
"Well I do. And I know that up there," she motions, pointing up, signifying Heaven. "They're looking at you now, thankful that you're prospering and thriving today." And with those words, she leaves.
"Huey! Come clean the kitchen! I think today's itis... Might be... Mucus buildup, and your granddady's not gonna put the dishes away through that," Granddad half-rambles and half-scolds, leaving Huey to sigh, but move on and do the dishes anyways.
And as he moves to the kitchen to put the dishes away, under circumstances he previously considered bad because of the no-parent atmosphere, he walks in with a little smile only the most precise of eyes can see, for he has another thing to be hopeful for, brought to him by, who he's now realizing, may just be the best friend he'll ever have.
Hope.