A/N: Its been a very long time since I've submitted anything, so I think it would be good of me now to do so since I'm actively reading and reviewing again. This is my first Boondocks fic, try to be nice if you can...Not sure where this will go...reviews would be helpful as that it does prompt me to keep going. N. E. Way... Don't own Boondocks...yadda yadda...language...yadda yadda...Starts slow I guess...yadda yadda...kinda short, yeah I know...
"You know what Riley?" Huey said thoughtfully as he looked up from one of his many social science books. "I've just realized that you're full of as much shit as you talk, and you talk a lot of it."
Riley looked up at his brother, who was propped against the head of his bed, staring almost absently into the pages of his book. He, who had been reclining on his own bed playing his PSP, furrowed his brow in miffed confusion.
"Nigga, wutchu talkin' bout?"
"I'm just thinking back to that basketball game of yours." Huey replied distantly without averting his eyes from the book.
"Nigga, how you gunna bring up some shit like dat knowin' damn well I'm tryin ta foget that embarrassin' ass shit…that 'tarded autistic-ass muthafucka g'wnin make me look like a dumb-ass in fruna all'em damn people. Lil' nigga bedda be glad he got guards now, otherwise I'd fuck is fow-eyed ass up…" Riley seethed under his breath.
Huey sighed. "Case and point Riley. Don't hate cuz he had skills and you didn't."
Riley angrily discarded his PSP, letting it bounce unceremoniously onto the bed sheets beneath him.
"Nigga you know I gave that punk his due! You see I n'er said nuthin when they put that movie out an' had me all fat n' nasty lookin' like Fat Albert or some shit! Sides Huey, you still ain't had to bring that up. An' why anyway?"
Huey shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe it's because I think about all this shit you be sayin' and how you cain't never back up any of it. That's all." Huey finally closed his book and looked at his brother. "Sometimes though, I feel as if that mouth of yours is what's ultimately going to be my downfall."
Riley sneered. "Nigga please, I ain't never asked you ta speak fa me, I gots my own voice!"
"Ok Riley. So when you sneak over to Thugnificent's house tomorrow with you're claims of 'fresh hoes' and you're inability to produce, whoese gunna be the one to bail you out of that whole you dug for yourself?"
"Huey quit hatin'! When have you evea known 'Young Rizil' not to produce?"
"Every community basketball game you ever played in."
Riley looked almost incredulous. "Negro please…"
Next day…
"Riley! What's up my nig!" Thugnificent's baritone voice boomed across his massive expanse of a living room.
"Sup, Thugnificent!" Came Riley's forced reply.
Yesterday night…
"Oh man, wut am I gunna do? I've called fourty-five hoes so far an' ain't nuna'them bitches gunna be available tomorrow—like them bitches have somethin' better to do than bask in the glow of Lethal Interjection's glory?!"
"Well Riley, I can think of a few things they could be doing…like making a living in a normal fashion for example…having a family, working, or being seriously involved with someone who isn't as shallow as everything Lethal Interjection stands for." Huey shrugged nonchalantly.
"Nigga I ain't ask fa no answer!"
"Coulda fooled me, the question was loud enough."
"Well, if you wanna help, find me some fly-ass hoes to take to Thugnificent's house!" Riley pleaded.
"First of all…" Riley sighed inwardly, this is how Huey always sounded when he was about to get up on his soap box. "…Grandad told you to stay away from that man because he was a bad influence on you. Secondly, it's bad on him to look to an eight-year-old boy to find women for him, and thirdly, you're trying way too hard to fit into a crowd way too old for you, and who really don't have any of your best interests at heart."
Riley rolled his eyes. "Nigga quit preachin, they my crew! I gotta come thew for'em!"
"…Or…" Huey continued. "…You could just be mature about it and tell Thugnificent the truth about the girls having other plans. Knowing Thugnificent, he'll just blame it on them saying it's their loss and you lose no face at all…"
Riley nodded his head. "Yeah, that sounds like a good backup plan, I knew I could depend on you!"
Huey frowned. "Trust me, I'm not trying to encourage you." Just then the phone rang.
"I'LL GET IT!" Riley bellowed as he quickly made haste for the phone at the bottom of the stairs. Huey just shook his head.
"Thugnificent, sup!" Riley gushed into the receiver, elated that his next-door idol was actually phoning him.
"RIILLEYY! Who the hell is callin here at this hour??" Robert shouted from somewhere upstairs. Riley placed a hand over the phone as he called back.
"It's for me Grandad!"
"Boy I asked who it was not who it was for! You don't need ta be gettin' calls this late anyway, now tell me who it is--!"
Riley had since blocked out his grandfather's rant from upstairs and returned his attention to the person on the other end.
"Sorry bout that Thugnificent, its jus my Grandad bein' nosey. Wasup?"
"It's all good lil nigga. I jus wanted ta make sure that them bitches g'wn be thew tomorrow, I got a T.V. crew commin' in so I'm'll need wall ta wall tities, ya heard?"
Riley felt his heart sink. He was expecting him to come through with hoes in tow, the man had plans! However, at this point he could take Huey's advice and tell him the truth about the bitch bailout, he could pin it on them no prob…a cowardly move sure, but at least he'd be saving face.
"Yo lil man, you still there?"
"Yeah, Thugnificent…uh, about the bitches…"
Thugnificent interjected quickly. "What about'em Riley, they is comin', ain't they?"
There was something in his voice that sounded sinister as he posed Riley the question, something not unlike Ed's grandfather whenever he spoke. It was enough to chill the backbone right out of Riley, causing him to loose his nerve. Only after another pause did he offer his answer.
"Uh, yeah Thugnificent, they'll be there. Them hoes should be lucky they even have an opportunity like this ya know?"
"Das wut I'm talkin' bout! Das wasup Riz, good lookin', holla atcha boy! Peace!"
Then the line was silent. Riley slowly returned the phone to its cradle, feeling dread creep over him as he did. He just lied to Thugnificent. How the hell could he face him and the other members of Lethal Interjection without a throng of gold-digging hoochies? He said there would be bitches, found that there wouldn't be, and instead of being a man about it, went and made his grave that much bigger. Here he was with little more than twenty-four hours to get fifty plus dimes, with nothing more than Thugnificant's name to drop. What was an eight-year-old wannabe thug to do? God he couldn't stand it when his brother was right…