The Bayville High little theater…
On stage and in the spotlight, Principle Kelly adjusted his tie and looked out over the audience. "…And next in our first annual Open-Mike night," Principle Kelly continued. "We have a performer I'm sure you're all familiar with… So please give a warm welcome to our star quarterback and possibly up-and-coming comedian…" Kelly trailed off as he turned to the side. "Duncan Mathews!"
In the control booth, some techie piped in the opening chords to Queen's Princes of the Universe. Back on stage, Duncan Mathews walked on from stage left. As the crowd cheered him, he shook hands with Principle Kelly, and graciously accepted the mike. Kelly did a quick fade, leaving Duncan alone in the spotlight.
"Hey!" Duncan greeted, looking out over the audience. "How you all doing tonight?" The crowd cheered, as they were expected to do after such a prompting. "So it's been a few months now," Duncan continued. "Since the big thing happened. Since the event that rocked the world of sports. Yes, it's only been a few short months since Michael Jordan, the greatest basketball player that ever lived, retired." Duncan paused. "For, what, the third time? The forth?" The audience laughed, and Duncan blew some air out of the corner of his mouth. "He'll be back," he muttered.
Duncan paused to take a quick drink from the water bottle that had been left on the stool behind the spotlight. "Ah," he said as he finished. "So, do we have any black people in the audience tonight?" Again, the audience cheered in the manner expected. Several students did so especially loudly. Duncan nodded his head. "All right. Not bad. Now, any white guy guys out there?" Answering his own question Duncan threw up his arm and yelled into the microphone. In the audience, loud cheers erupted. As he stopped cheering himself, Duncan chuckled. "Ah, I love being the majority…
"Do feel sorry for black people though," he continued. "I know a few of 'em, all pretty good guys. But they've had it rough. Life has just been pretty difficult for them" Duncan paused for a moment before starting to wander around the stage. "And no, I'm not talking any of that discrimination crap. If they got that they'd punch the guy in the face. Nor any of that wussy slavery-still-hurts whining. That ended like eight generations ago. It gone. Over. Done. Doesn't affect 'em. No…" Duncan trailed off, looking at the audience. "I'm talking about hair."
Several parts of the audience chuckled. "Oh, you know what I'm talking about. Black folks just got screwed when it comes to hair. I mean, look at me." Duncan idly brushed a few locks of his blond hair out of his face. "I've had this same haircut for the past decade. But it's been my choice. If I wanted to, I could change my hairstyle to anything I can think of.
"What hairstyles can you black guys have? You can shave it all off." Duncan ran his hand over his head for emphasis. "You can have a buzz cut. You can have a slightly longer buzz cut. Or…" Duncan trailed off for a moment. "You can grow it out and have a fro." The Seventies reference drew some laughs. "That's really it. You're hair just curls too much to do anything else. Nature screwed ya. I'm sorry.
"And girls!" Duncan leaned forward with true earnestness. "I'm sorry… I don't listen closely to this stuff—because I don't care—but some of you iron your hair?" Duncan looked around, appalled. "That can't be true can it? No sane person would willingly apply burning heat to themselves, would they? Not just for their looks…"
Duncan trailed off, looking to the side. "Wait, you're girls. Yeah, you would." A mixed reaction came from the audience. "Why do you do that, girls? Huh? And especially you black girls? Why flatten your hair just so that you can look like white girls? Straight hair doesn't make you look hot." Duncan placed his hand over his heart. "Trust me. I'm a guy. Your hair is just about the last thing I look at…
"Seriously, though," Duncan continued, quickly shifting tone. "Stop doing that. Find a new 'hip' style. Have the NAACP finance an expedition back to Africa and see how girls naturally deal with curly hair. Find a style that is uniquely you!" Duncan abruptly frowned. "But if they come back saying you should put hoops around your necks, shoot them on the spot." The audience laughed.
Duncan shook his head and walked back to center stage. "Yeah, I'm ripping on you guys, but you know its all okay. 'Cause your hair isn't all bad. It does have its good points." Duncan turned to face the audience. "Such as this: I guarantee you, you will never see a black person with a comb-over." Several audience members whooped. "And if you do, bust a cap in that brother's ass, he is not keeping it real…" Duncan trailed off to a renewed series of shouts.
Smirking, Duncan ran a hand through his hair again. "Yeah, you've got your advantages. We both do, really. We all have the hair that suits us. Me? I would look like a deuche with black frizzy hair. And black guys, you'd look stupid to if you wore this floppy stuff. Think about it. What would Shaft have looked like if he had had a split curl. A Yuppie, that's what. A dumb, wussy, uncoordinated Yuppie…
"And another thing, black guys…" Duncan paused for emphasis. "You really don't need to worry about going bald. Because black people look cool when they're bald." Duncan shrugged. "Honestly, you do. The look suits you. The moment you start loosing any hair at all—voop!" Duncan whipped his hand along his head for emphasis. "You just shave everything off, and you're cool once again.
"White guys can't do that. White guys, can we do that? Has a bald white guy ever looked cool?
"Wait," Duncan interrupted. Walking to the side of the stage, he put his hand over his mouth and in a weak voice called out "Patrick Stewart!"
Prolonged laughter racked the audience. Duncan stood where he was, nodding with his lips pursed to the side. "You laugh," Duncan continued at length. "But its true. I swear to God. We were talking about this in practice one time. Honest. A few weeks ago, after some sprints, I brought this up with some of the guys. I asked them that exact same question—name just one cool looking bald white guy—and our linebacker looked at me with a straight face and said 'Patrick Stewart.'" Duncan held his hands out to the side. "I swear to God, guys. I couldn't make up something that crazy.
"So check your calendars people. Sometime in the last ten years, Star Trek actually became cool. Even for football jocks."
Duncan shook his head dismissively and walked back to center stage. "But Captain Picard aside, there are no cool looking white guys. That's just the way it is. We white people were born with this wild hair, and we need that hair to look good. Black guys were born with frizzy hair, and it looks good on them.
"And this goes beyond hair, too," continued Duncan, pacing once again. "Look at hats. White guys, when we wear baseball caps, how do we wear them?" Duncan pantomimed putting on a cap. "Visors facing front, that's right. Not only because it blocks the sun, but because it makes us look good. We need that visor act as a counterpoint for our faces."
Duncan stopped pacing. "But how do black guys wear their baseball caps? With the visor pointing back. And they only wear fitted caps as well. So once a black guy puts on his baseball cap, from their eyebrows up…" Duncan trailed off as he pantomimed switching his hat around. Then with a broad gesture, he brushed his hand up his forehead and across his hair. "Your head is smoo-ooth!" The joke, combined with the vocal inflection drew a cheer from the crowd.
Nodding to himself, Duncan launched into the final leg of his routine. "That's right. Black people like smooth hats. What do they wear in winter? Tight-fitting wool hats. And in summer they wear their baseball caps backwards, and put nylons on their heads." The crowd laughed loudly. "Dunno why," continued Duncan. "But they do.
"Us white guys, we wouldn't be caught dead wearing nylons over our hair. We'd look stupid!" Duncan scowled for emphasis. "We'd be stupid! …It'd mess up our hair…
"Black guys like smooth hats, white guys don't. I've already beaten the baseball caps to death… In winter? Yeah, we wear wool hats, but we make them long and pointy." Duncan held his hand above his head mockingly. "And then we put a big wool puffball at the end to make sure it flops around!" Many audience members laughed, remembering said hats. "And when we don't wear those, we wear those padded caps with big floppy ear-flaps.
"What other hats do white guys wear?" Continued Duncan. "A multitude of them! And all of them have something pointing away from our face. Like those Irish hats with small curved brim… Or the newsies hats from the turn of the century… Y'know, kind of like out baseball caps only with a bunch of fabric pulled up to the visor…
"The Robin Hood hats! Robin Hood wore a pointed green hat. Black guys wouldn't wear that… Same with the Davey Crocket coonskins."
Duncan continued pacing across the stage. "White guys invented the fedora. Our policemen wear those small caps with the upturned rim…" Duncan paused. "Of course, then there's the British policemen…" The audience laughed.
Duncan smirked at his audience. "And lets all remember, the coolest hat in the history of the world was made by us white guys. Or at least made popular buy us," Duncan conceded. "The cowboy hat…" Duncan pantomimed looking down while pulling on the brim of a hat. The audience roared in approval. "Yes'ir," the boy continued in a western drawl. "I recon' there ain't no cooler hat in the world than a good ol' cowboy hat. A big ol' articulated top, and a wide brim, to help spread our face. Yes'ir…"
Duncan took off the ghost hat and placed it on the stool behind him. "Buy, my friends, lets not get too proud of ourselves. After all…" Duncan gave one last pause before quickly finishing his routine. "We're also responsible for creating sombreros."
The crowd cheered loudly, and Duncan raised his arm in acknowledgement. "You've been a great audience. My time is up, and I hope to see you around. G'night…" With the crowd still cheering, Duncan quickly faded off stage.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------