Shaft's Dream

Distant drums. War drums. My town. We locals call it Motown, outsiders call it Detroit.

My dad, Shutchomouth, recently elected Meanmutha, lies bleeding in the street. My brother, Dolomite, and my cousin, Blackula, try to help him.

Big Mama and Foxy, my sister, are crying. There is a funeral pyre in the center of town, and the pageantry of the associated ceremony is fit for a Meanmutha. The traditional drink for the funerals of Meanmuthas, schlitz malt liquor, flows freely. Funk is heard throughout the town.

Motown appears to be under siege. It needs a Meanmutha. Shutchomouth must be avenged. And then Heironeous tells me, "Power to the People, Muthafucka." By using that traditional honorific (Muthafucka) I know he's calling me home.

*I wake up*

*I leave a note for Arcadius*

*I hit the road*

*Damn*