Although I had a terrible feeling in my gut that someone had happened to Hazel, I decided to stop and pick up a few more burritos. I quickly scuttled across the grass and bear crawled to the entrance of the Anne Frank House. The doors were crowded with Afros. Small Afros, long Afros, purple Afros. After a while of searching through the sea of fro's I caught sight of Hazels Afro. I wedged myself between a sticky afro and a smelly afro so I could see Hazels face. The man who flaunted the smelly afro swiftly turned around and looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"Afrogustus," he examined me, "boy, I haven't seen you since, well, forever!"
"Hey.....you..." I said unsure of who he was.
Thoughts bombarded my head. Why on Earth is this GREASY, STINKY, NO GOOD, sloth resembling man talking to me.
"Wow, you sure do look snazzy," he beamed.
"Thanks, but - uh I really should be going, I think my girlfriend is in trouble, you think we could catch up some other time?"
"I don't know, I'm pretty busy between my hair trims, art class, aerobics, swim class, peeling carrots, online shopping, golfing, and" ---- just like that I shoved my half eaten burrito down his throat so he would quit talking. I then shoved him to the ground, told him to take a shower, and stomped on his Afro in a blaze of fury. I marched up to the two large men that guarded the doors and demanded to be let in. What they told me next, I couldn't believe.
YOU ARE READING
The Fault in my Fro
Teen FictionAfrogustus Waters, a 20 year old man, suffers from afro withdrawal. He seeks the help of an afro support group. There, he meets Hazel Grease. The two become inseparable.
