The Fault in my Fro

Chapter Four

"Afrogustus," Javi practically screams as I walk into the KFC. "You're back so soon?"

"Hey Javi." I moan.

"Afrogustus, what can I get for you?"

"Some curly fries would be nice, extra grease."

And okay, I know they don't sell curly fries at KFC, but Javi's a good friend of mine, so he makes an exception.

"Ah, your usual. Coming right up, man!" Javi walks away, limping -- achilles mishap.

I stare longingly out the window. I sure have gotten myself into a greasy mess.

Oh Hazel, my beautiful Hazel Grease Lafrocaster. Or should I say soon to be Lafro-less-caster. No, that's just cruel.

Javi waddles over to my table with the curly fries. He sits across from me, and I can't help but notice his Afro. He must have put more grease in it today. It looks might fine. Frick! I have to stop thinking about Afros.

Jav -- one of his many nicknames, along with J-dog, Manny, Jman, and you get the idea -- grabs my shoulders and violently whips me around like a chew toy.

"JAV," I yelp "STOP YOURE MESSING UP MY AFRO jeez." Grease pours down my face. Thanks a lot.

"What is the matter with you? You're acting like a rotten Afro. Cut it out. What's gotten into you?" Jav questions.

"Oh, besides more grease? Just finding out my girlfriend has to undergo afro loss. And I just can't deal with it, Javi, I cant." I drag out every syllable.

"Oh," Javi has a look of remorse on his face. "I'm real sorry, Afrogustus. I'm real sorry."

"Yeah. Me too." I run out of the restaurant -- can I call KFC a restaurant? Tears stream down my face. Or maybe it's grease. I hope it's the latter.

I walk down the alleyway, a shortcut to my house. Halfway through my stroll, I get a call from Hazel. I send it to voicemail. Ugh, could this day get any worse?

I trudge solemnly into my home, being greeted by the hundreds of greasy quotes my parents hang. I walk down to the basement -- or my 'Man Cave'. I dig through some of my old photo albums and school report cards. I find my prosthetic Afro, that I wore twenty-four months ago. I run my hand through my Afro, the one that after extensive chemotherafro, I was able to grow out myself. I start to cry. I pick up my phone and call Isaac. He comes over so I can rant.

After I cool down, Isaac and I play Grand Theft Afro; he wins.

"You should just talk to Hazel, man. Help her out. You know what she's going through. That's the least you can do for her."

"You're right, Isaac. Thanks a ton, buddy."

The next day, I go over to Hazels, and am greeted warmly by the Lafrocasters.

"Gus, so good to see you again. Hazel has missed you." They squeal.

I laugh, and walk in.

I go down the hall, and knock on Hazels door.

"Come in."

I burst through the door

"Afrogustus!"

"Hazel Grease!"

She runs towards me and we touch Afros. Her Afro is so dry, part of it falls off.

"Oh," She says, clearly embarrassed. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"Like this? Hazel, you're beautiful, afroless and all. I'm sorry it took me so long to come to that realization."

"Oh Gus," She chimes. "I love you, Frokay?"

"Frokay." I smile.

"What do you say we get out of here? Maybe go for a picnic?"

"I know just the place." I take her by her Afro and we walk out of her room.

We walk for several minutes and then finally pick a spot to sit and eat.

"Oh crappppp," says Hazel. "We didn't bring food! Ugh."

Good thing I have Burger King on speed dial.

The food finally arrives, via poorly greased delivery man. We sit and eat our burgers in silence. She feeds me some lettuce, that I know I will be fishing out of my teeth later on tonight. We share some laughs, but most importantly, we share our coleslaw. After the BK is devoured, we talk about our future. Where we want to end up in ten years. Hazel Grease wants to be a spokesperson for Livin' Without a Fro, ya Know? -- a very elite magazine. I on the other hand, want to help the less frotunate by donating snipping's of my Afro. Such a worthy cause.

"Hazel?"

"Yes, Gus?"

"I have a question."

"Mhm?"

"Would you do the honour of accompanying me to Afrodam?"