Kids in his class often ask him why he plays the piano instead of a ‘cool’ instrument.
Why he’s not rocking out on a guitar, or smashing on some drums instead.
And each time they asked him this question, the answer was always simple.
There was a tall black man dancing in his head.
Ever since he saw that black man wearing sparkling bell bottom pants and a shirt with funky psychedelic printing on it, big afro hair with a comb stick out of it, he wanted to be him.
The man danced while jamming on his keyboard, sliding back and forth on the dance floor, his arms stretched out and his fingers rolling around on the keyboard.
The rest of his band are all horrible and spastic dancers so the women only payed attention to his groovy dance moves.
The boy tried his best to look as close as possible to the cool afro dude, he had natural frizzy hair so he had a sort of mini afro going on already.
He kept wearing the ones he had already outgrown, piano lessons had made her budget tighter and now that she didn’t have to buy him new pants it saved her money, so she didn’t mind that he wanted to wear pants that were too short for his legs.
He couldn’t find something with glitters to wear so instead he had a blouse that matched the color of his trousers.
His shoes did come close to the ones he had seen on the black man, so each morning right before school he would shine his shoes.
Her little white afro son ran across the schoolyard.
He has an old soul, his mother said to one of the mothers who was also waiting at the gates right before he jumped into her arms.
Weekends were always the most fun for him because he got to play his piano as much as he wanted too.
It wouldn’t matter where you were in the house, you would be hearing him playing his piano like crazy.
His mother stepped into the living room which was also the piano room, he was dancing around while hitting the piano keys, the floor even showed black streaks his shoes left behind.
She was starting to notice a change in his speech, and a couple of days later he wouldn’t eat anything besides chicken wings.
He kept turning more and more into the afro man inside his head, this worried her so she took him to see a psychiatrist to see what was wrong with him.
The psychiatrist suggested hypnotherapy to find out who this man was.
She hypnotized the boy and began to search for the black man.
But she did not find a black man that would be influencing the boy from within, so she tried to find out if the boy was in a previous life a black afro sporting keyboard playing man.
The closer she got the more the boy began to speak like a genuine stereotypical black man from the 70’s.
He even said he wouldn’t mind getting the groove on with her, he got up and danced around still hypnotized.
His dance moves were extraordinary, the two women looked at the little boy doing crazy disco move after another.
The psychiatrist knew enough and brought the boy back from his hypnotic state back into the real world.
The next couple of weeks she removed the memories of his previous life bit by bit until the boy no longer wanted to be a afro wearing keyboard player.
His mother was happy her son was back to being normal, she did find it a shame his interest for the piano were gone, it was no gathering dust but every once in a while she would hit one of the keys and the tone would be heard from anywhere in the house.
Kids in his class had often asked him why he didn’t listen to ‘cool’ rap music.
They were afraid to ask why he was dressed in such old fashioned clothes.
But if they had asked him, the answer would be simple.
There was a southern slave owner from the eighteen hundreds kicking slaves inside his head.
Why he’s not rocking out on a guitar, or smashing on some drums instead.
And each time they asked him this question, the answer was always simple.
There was a tall black man dancing in his head.
Ever since he saw that black man wearing sparkling bell bottom pants and a shirt with funky psychedelic printing on it, big afro hair with a comb stick out of it, he wanted to be him.
The man danced while jamming on his keyboard, sliding back and forth on the dance floor, his arms stretched out and his fingers rolling around on the keyboard.
The rest of his band are all horrible and spastic dancers so the women only payed attention to his groovy dance moves.
The boy tried his best to look as close as possible to the cool afro dude, he had natural frizzy hair so he had a sort of mini afro going on already.
He kept wearing the ones he had already outgrown, piano lessons had made her budget tighter and now that she didn’t have to buy him new pants it saved her money, so she didn’t mind that he wanted to wear pants that were too short for his legs.
He couldn’t find something with glitters to wear so instead he had a blouse that matched the color of his trousers.
His shoes did come close to the ones he had seen on the black man, so each morning right before school he would shine his shoes.
Her little white afro son ran across the schoolyard.
He has an old soul, his mother said to one of the mothers who was also waiting at the gates right before he jumped into her arms.
Weekends were always the most fun for him because he got to play his piano as much as he wanted too.
It wouldn’t matter where you were in the house, you would be hearing him playing his piano like crazy.
His mother stepped into the living room which was also the piano room, he was dancing around while hitting the piano keys, the floor even showed black streaks his shoes left behind.
She was starting to notice a change in his speech, and a couple of days later he wouldn’t eat anything besides chicken wings.
He kept turning more and more into the afro man inside his head, this worried her so she took him to see a psychiatrist to see what was wrong with him.
The psychiatrist suggested hypnotherapy to find out who this man was.
She hypnotized the boy and began to search for the black man.
But she did not find a black man that would be influencing the boy from within, so she tried to find out if the boy was in a previous life a black afro sporting keyboard playing man.
The closer she got the more the boy began to speak like a genuine stereotypical black man from the 70’s.
He even said he wouldn’t mind getting the groove on with her, he got up and danced around still hypnotized.
His dance moves were extraordinary, the two women looked at the little boy doing crazy disco move after another.
The psychiatrist knew enough and brought the boy back from his hypnotic state back into the real world.
The next couple of weeks she removed the memories of his previous life bit by bit until the boy no longer wanted to be a afro wearing keyboard player.
His mother was happy her son was back to being normal, she did find it a shame his interest for the piano were gone, it was no gathering dust but every once in a while she would hit one of the keys and the tone would be heard from anywhere in the house.
Kids in his class had often asked him why he didn’t listen to ‘cool’ rap music.
They were afraid to ask why he was dressed in such old fashioned clothes.
But if they had asked him, the answer would be simple.
There was a southern slave owner from the eighteen hundreds kicking slaves inside his head.
