New short-story alert!

As explained in the summary, this story is modeled after the interview style from Season 3's premiere episode: It's A Black President, Huey Freeman. As the title indicates, it is very much a "where are they now" angle for some of our favorite Boondocks characters.

However… the inspiration and motivation to even create this story comes entirely from Marcus Williams, AKA marcusthevisual on Instagram. In 2017, he did several illustrations on the characters along with descriptions on a reimagined version of them all in their 20's. To find, Google "Marcus Williams Boondocks" and it should be one of the first links from a website called Konbini. I'm late as hell, but I saw these illustrations recently for the first time and was instantly blown away. Ever since I saw them I had the inspiration to do a story based on his version and his vision for the characters.

So before you read: go look at his work right now and support, read the descriptions found on his IG, do a quick recap of S03 E01, grab your popcorn, and get comfy. Cuz we goin' in.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Aaron McGruder's The Boondocks or any of his characters.

In 2008, history was made as the first African-American man became President of the United States. During that time, I had the opportunity to interview one family in particular regarding their thoughts on the election.

It has now been 12 years since that time.

I have decided to return to Woodcrest, Maryland to reunite with this family and conduct a follow-up. It seems that much has changed in the time since, including the world, government, and in each of their personal lives.

In this exclusive documentary, I, Werner Herzog, brave myself to revisit with some of the most dysfunctional people I've ever met…

The Freeman Family. Where are they now…? We'll soon find out.

The house appeared exactly the way it did the last time I had visited, all those years ago. As I rang the doorbell and heard the approaching footsteps, I wondered how much had changed from within.

Upon the door being swung open and first impression, it almost seemed like much had not.

"Who the hell are y'all, ringin' my damn bell? And what's with the cameras?"

And while I had expected to be met again to the boy with the permanent scowl, his grandfather mirrored a close second in comparison, as he glanced wildly among our crew.

I stared at Robert Jebediah Freeman in disbelief. Much like his house, the man looked exactly the same as the first time. It was as if he hadn't aged a day, which was mildly alarming, considering the original age estimate we believed him to be. The world may never know the answer to that mystery.

"I am Werner Herzog, Mr. Freeman." I re-introduced myself. "We're here for the follow-up documentary."

"Werner Who-now?" Robert squinted at me in confusion.

"Werner Herzog. We've been emailing about this interview for weeks."

"Uhhh…?" He stared at me blankly.

"I literally confirmed with you via Skype yesterday."

"Hmmm, I don't remember ever seeing you." He gave me a distrustful look.

I held back my sigh. "I came here 12 years ago during the election and inauguration for President Barack Obama."

"My man Obama!" His face lit up slightly, emphasizing the former president's name. "Did I ever tell you about the time, him, Michelle, and Beyoncé and I were on a yacht?"

I blinked at him as he went on, gesturing dramatically as he did so while he turned to face the cameras more. I watched silently, even more convinced of my previous diagnosis.

Dementia… this man most certainly suffers from dementia.

After fifteen minutes of Robert still spewing nonsensical lies, my hand slowly found its way into the depths of my blazer to hold my pocketknife. I deeply considered ending it all, but fell short yet again as I released my grip. We had since moved into the foyer in an effort not to "waste up his A/C", though I would've much rather burned myself alive in the sun than listen to him continue to ramble.

It seemed like an act of God when Robert paused to cough, and I immediately took the opportunity. "Is Huey ready for the interview?"

"Huh? Yeah, he up there somewhere. But uh, don't you wanna finish my interview? The cameras were rolling, right?"

"Of course." I lied to his face, knowing the cameraman had stopped recording within moments of Robert's first story. "We'll finish up your segment later. In the meantime, we'll schedule Huey in next."

Robert shrugged in return before lifting his head to the ceiling. "BOOOOYYYY! Wilbur Hodgepodge is here for you!"

"It's Werner Herzog." I corrected, but noticed a deeper voice say in unison from behind me.

I turned around to the stairwell, immediately meeting an intense set of eyes I would never forget, looming down at me from the top.

I stared at the young man as he began his descent down the steps. He kept strong eye contact with me while he did so, having that same indifferent expression that still haunted my nightmares to this day. Shockingly, his incredibly large hair seemed even larger if possible, still styled in the same natural afro he had worn it in previously. Aside from the thin stubble mustache he had connected to the goatee beard on his chin, his face had not changed much. It had only developed and matured with age, the same way the rest of him did.

Even with both feet now on the ground, he still towered slightly over me, well over six-foot with the hair. He had filled out and broadened overall in size, now with noticeable muscle added to his build. And alas, even in his adult years, his wardrobe still had such a militant look to it. He stood in front of me unwaveringly wearing an open army-green button up over a white T-shirt, dark jeans, brown boots, and was carrying an inconspicuous black bookbag over his shoulder.

I noticed the way he slightly shifted the bag behind him more, now out of clear view from the cameras, and I felt an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. My intuition told me there was a good possibility I could die today at the hands of the Freeman clan, but at least it would not be in vain. If nothing else, I was going to finish this documentary… or die trying.

"It's been a long time." I greeted, brushing past thoughts of my impending demise as I stared at him. He blinked back stoically in return.

"Eh." He replied after a beat. "Time is a construct."

This fucking kid.

Huey Freeman, 22-year old retired (TBD) domestic terrorist.

I blinked at him in silence, staring back at his apathetic expression. He looked about as miserable as he had the last time around. There was a distinct feeling of déjà vu as the crew bustled around the kitchen over sound and lighting, already having the cameras faced directly at me from across the table. By now I was used to settings like this, it didn't deter me. I just wanted to get this over with.

"So…?" I raised an eyebrow at Werner Herzog, now seated opposite from me at the kitchen table. He had yet to begin and I had places to be. "Are we ready to get started?"

"About." He replied, continuing to stare at me blankly with his hands folded. "Are you ready?"

In response, I reached into the bag I had tucked beneath the table. I slid my black journal out from the front pocket and set it down, beginning to flip to the section I'd been working on. The one I'd spent the past few weeks pouring my thoughts out regarding the current state of the government and what it means for our world and future moving forward.

If they wanted the truth, if they were truly asking for my raw and honest thoughts… I'd give it to them.

"Yes." I confirmed with a slight nod.

Herzog glanced down a bit at the notebook. "Did you… prepare something?"

"I did." I nodded again. Admittedly, I had been vague the last time during the documentary. I would not be this time.

"Your grandfather didn't mention?"

I stared at him, holding in the sigh. "Mention what?"

Herzog wasn't able to keep his contained as he leaned back slightly in his seat. "Huey, do you know how many views our last interview received?" He continued after my blank expression in response. "To be frank, the last biopic we did among you and your family and friends, went on to become one of my most popular documentaries ever."

"You're kidding." I deadpanned. That had to be a joke.

"I do not kid." He replied vacantly. "Are you familiar with my film, Grizzly Man?"

"Yes."

"Are you also familiar with my films, Into The Inferno, Encounters at the End of the World, Lessons Of Darkness, and/or Fata Morgana?" He rattled off.

"Yes." I answered the same way.

"The Freeman documentary has surpassed all of those combined as far as views and popularity."

Damn. He sounded noticeably salty about that fact, which was only slightly amusing, but I kept my indifferent expression.

"So what does that mean for this interview?"

"For some reason, you and your family have an extremely large audience. The number of requests to do a part two for this documentary has been overwhelming."

"Okay…?"

"However, your 'fans' are more interested to learn about each of you in particular. For example, things that have transpired over the recent years, where you are at now in your lives as far as career, relationships, et cetera, et cetera."

"…Seriously?"

"Contritely."

"So you're not here to discuss politics?"

"This is not meant to be a political story, no."

I blinked at that, redirecting my head downwards to my journal. With a heavy sigh, I closed the cover.

I guess the lid to Pandora's box would have to stay shut for now.

"Okay then." I finally relented. "I can answer some questions for awhile, but I have a rally I have to attend after this."

"What type of rally will you be participating in?"

"I'll be one of the keynote speakers for a Black Lives Matter event downtown."

"That sounds like a big deal."

"Eh." I shrugged nonchalantly, noticing the way Herzog's stare always seemed to harden at that. In hindsight, I suppose it could be considered a big deal. The BLM chapter had only been requesting me to speak for the past several months but… I've been busy.

"Do you believe it will be a peaceful gathering or otherwise?" He asked, obviously implying whether it would turn violent.

"Depends." I answered honestly. Of all the rallies I've attended over the years, there have only been a handful that have escalated. And from the situations I have personally seen first-hand… it has always been from the result of being provoked or targeted by the security/law enforcement involved.

For that reason, I always kept my enhanced set of Black Power Fists ready at my disposal. I didn't have them the day I witnessed the first rally encounter. Granted, I still kicked that mall-cop's ass without them, but it might not always be that easy. Which is why I needed to stay strapped just in case.

But that information doesn't need to be documented. I thought to myself, shifting my bag a bit more under the table with my foot.

"So then, in terms of your career: what exactly do you do? Are you a member or employee of the Black Lives Matter organization?" Herzog asked.

"I'm a member, yes. But as far as what I do, I've founded my own organizations."

"You have plural organizations?"

"Less than I used to." I said wryly, thinking back to the 23 I had initially started with. A little overkill maybe, but they had since merged and overlapped into the groups I have established now, so it hadn't been a waste.

"I'm the founder of three radical leftist organizations: Africans Fighting Racism and Oppression, the Black Revolutionary Organization, and the Black Revolutionary Underground Heroes."

"So… otherwise known as AFRO, BRO, and… BRUH?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. "I've had these groups in development for years, but over the last several we've been able to really establish ourselves to the point where we're now recognized on a national level."

"That must be a proud accomplishment for you."

"Pride leads to destruction." I responded plainly.

He stared at me in silence for a few moments before continuing. "So then, in addition to your organizations, does that sum up your career goals? What is your big-picture plan?"

"It barely scratches the surface." I told him at once. "My plan is to promote change. For my people and everyone worldwide."

"What do you think of the current climate in our world today?"

I stared at him in seriousness, slightly cocking my head to the side while I tried not to noticeably narrow my eyes. That wasn't even worthy of a verbal response.

"Can your fans assume that you're not a supporter of the current President?"

I turned my head to steadily face the camera with a slow blink. "They can assume whatever they'd like."

"Without delving fully in, any brief thoughts you'd like to share?"

I shrugged, still staring at the camera. "The man has a lot of enemies. Be a shame if something should happen to him."

"…Do you still consider yourself retired?"

I turned back to Herzog, now staring at me with an unreadable expression. I blinked at him silently in return before checking my watch.

"Next topic please, I'm going to be cutting it a little close."

And there wasn't enough time to go into that.

He still looked slightly apprehensive, but cleared his throat after a moment to continue. "There's been word that you've been scouted out by the NAACP. Is this true?"

I debated on sharing for a brief moment before supplying a light nod. It was bound to come out sooner or later. "That information is accurate."

"In what ways will you be involved with them?"

"As of last week, I've signed on to be their official Administrator of African-American Contemporary Issues." I revealed.

"Is that a new position within the organization?"

"Very." I confirmed, as both the title and role had been created especially for me. "Basically, they've requested my help for further ways to bring awareness and understanding about the plight of young black people. They also want me to act as a platform for them, to help keep them updated about what the day in the life of a young black person looks like these days. Because obviously it's not the same as what it was back in the 1900's."

"That sounds like a big undertaking."

I shrugged. The life of a black hero has never been for the meek of heart.

"Are you residing in Woodcrest still or have you since relocated to be closer to the city?"

"I have a house in Baltimore now. But I come home every weekend to help out my Granddad."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, thrown off by the sudden topic change.

"Your fans want to know."

"I don't date really."

"So you've dated before?"

"I didn't say that."

"You said really. So does that mean you're single?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"That is one of the top questions your fans want to know from you." Herzog explained, and I shook my head at that. It seemed completely ridiculous.

"I have time for one last serious question." I emphasized. "I have to head out in about five minutes." Werner Herzog considered for a moment while he glanced down at his notes.

"Final question… do you have any regrets about not leaving the country?"

I stared at him. That was the last real question he wanted to ask?

"Regrets?" I practically scoffed. "Regrets? Did Pete Best regret leaving the Beatles?"

"…Who?"

"Exactly." I glared, proving my point as I felt the irritation rise. "How could one regret staying in the land of modern day lynchings, mass shootings, and all-around homegrown terrorism? Who wouldn't love living in a place where you get to spend the rest of your life working a dead-end job just to pay off your student loans right before you die from a man-made illness you can't afford to cure? I'm thrilled to be where little boys get gunned down for playing with toy guns at the park and men get murdered for selling loose cigarettes. After all, we do have our Commander-in-Chief guiding us, right? You know, the same one who goes around grabbing women by the p—"

"Sorry to interrupt Huey," Herzog slightly raised his hand, glancing down at the phone now in his hands. "Incoming question from a fan on Twitter who wants to know who you're currently dating at the moment. It's already gaining many retweets. Do you have a response?"

I glanced incredulously between him and the camera blankly before starting to rise from my seat.

"No comment."

I began un-wiring myself free of the microphones as the crew started to shift and talk a bit. Werner Herzog slowly stood from his chair before approaching me.

"Thank you for your time today, Huey. I'm sure your fans will thank you as well."

"I'm sure." I replied dryly. "Do you have what you need mostly?"

"For now." He nodded. "Next on the agenda would be—"

"WHAADUUUUUP?!"

I let out a heavy eyeroll as we all turned our heads towards the loud and sudden intrusion.

The one that came from my annoying-ass brother, now leaning casually in the kitchen doorway with a shit-eating smirk.

"MY turn to shine, niggas!"

Part two of the interview coming soon… :)

PSA: Also friends, when I say this a short-story, this is SHORT story. Like 3-5 chapters max. When it's done, it's done. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but got too long XD

Very special extra-loud shoutout to OG veteran and the real one: LovinHueyFreeman. Because without her help… this story would not have happened, y'all. Would've been cancelled. Especially this chapter. She has Huey's name in her username for a reason, she is the true VIP. The "regrets" dialogue scene at the very end was all her creation and suggestion, periodtttt. Thank you again so much girl for the collab help!

And again, go check out marcusthevisual on Instagram and look at all his work, it's incredible! Like it, heart it, support, and follow asapppp!

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!

~Schweetie