Place: Woodcrest, Maryland. Time: Present. Weather: Hot as shit!
They say the heat makes people crazy.
Before a few days ago, Huey wasn’t sure if he believed it or not. But after the third straight day of ninety degree weather in February, he’d started to change his mind.
Really, it all went back to the fact that the Bush administration had faked 9/11 to justify invading the Middle East so that they could drill oil in Iraq and Afghanistan. That, in turn, helped the automobile industry continue producing SUVs and Hummers, which all contributed to global warming. So when Huey walked down Timid Deer Lane wearing his coat and scarf, it wasn't for no reason. It was because it was too damn hot to make sense outside, and he refused to give in to it.
He'd have to make fliers later.
With his boombox in hand, playing something loud and appropriate, Huey was pretty sure that he was prepared for anything crazy that he'd probably come across. Disregarding his dumbass brother opening up a hydrant like they were still back in Chicago, of course. What he wasn't prepared for was far worse than anything he'd anticipated. Sure, there'd probably be people walking their dogs up the street, or sunbathing and being generally uninterested in the fact that by noon, it'd probably be hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk, but here in the suburbs? Gunshots were the last thing that he expected to hear.
It was like it was the damn inner city or something. He turned around to see just what the commotion was, but when he did, it wasn't his street that he saw-- crazy people or not. It was a beach. A goddamn beach.
"What the hell?" Huey said, eyebrows drawing together with confusion.
It was still hot, but Huey Freeman was pretty sure that this wasn't Woodcrest anymore.
[Note: Huey is still holding his boombox (it's one of the ones you just snap an MP3 player in), and it's still playing "Fight the Power" at very loud volumes. :)]
Before a few days ago, Huey wasn’t sure if he believed it or not. But after the third straight day of ninety degree weather in February, he’d started to change his mind.
Really, it all went back to the fact that the Bush administration had faked 9/11 to justify invading the Middle East so that they could drill oil in Iraq and Afghanistan. That, in turn, helped the automobile industry continue producing SUVs and Hummers, which all contributed to global warming. So when Huey walked down Timid Deer Lane wearing his coat and scarf, it wasn't for no reason. It was because it was too damn hot to make sense outside, and he refused to give in to it.
He'd have to make fliers later.
With his boombox in hand, playing something loud and appropriate, Huey was pretty sure that he was prepared for anything crazy that he'd probably come across. Disregarding his dumbass brother opening up a hydrant like they were still back in Chicago, of course. What he wasn't prepared for was far worse than anything he'd anticipated. Sure, there'd probably be people walking their dogs up the street, or sunbathing and being generally uninterested in the fact that by noon, it'd probably be hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk, but here in the suburbs? Gunshots were the last thing that he expected to hear.
It was like it was the damn inner city or something. He turned around to see just what the commotion was, but when he did, it wasn't his street that he saw-- crazy people or not. It was a beach. A goddamn beach.
"What the hell?" Huey said, eyebrows drawing together with confusion.
It was still hot, but Huey Freeman was pretty sure that this wasn't Woodcrest anymore.
[Note: Huey is still holding his boombox (it's one of the ones you just snap an MP3 player in), and it's still playing "Fight the Power" at very loud volumes. :)]