I Ain't Scared of You (16 page)

People always ask me about the kids who I talked about when I did that “Milk and Cookies” bit in
The Kings of Comedy.
The kids actually done turned out all right.

When I first got them, man, they was ignorant. They better—but that's training. They was ghetto-ized. They couldn't complete a whole sentence. Just ignorant. You know how you get a dog and he ain't trained and he chewing on the couch and all? That was these suckas. They was chewing on the couch. Piss all around the toilet—wouldn't even wipe it off. You come you sit on it, and you got a wet ass. Just nasty, you know.

So now, they're obedient. The oldest girl, she doing good. She got married, got two kids. She married a guy in the Marines, made a career.

The little one, she's growing up, she's doing real good. She's a good student, and she's gon' be going to college.

It took training, man. It took love. But it was hard. They used to stress me the hell out. That was the first time I was under some
stress.
I was getting the older girl's hair done every week. I had the little one in school. Man, she was taking the little girl out of school, gang-banging. Smoking reefer in front of her. It was a transition.

The boy is doing great, too. My nephew is very, very smart, on top of his game.

But he still a faggot.

He just know he is now. He didn't know then. Now, when he walk past a man with a big booty, he hums.

Hmmmhmmmm.

That's
a fag there. A homosex'yal. But he gon' be what he is. I still love him.

Recently, it was hot outside. Hot than a muh'fucka. 100 degrees. Devil smilin' and shit. The sun is
hot.
I'm too dark, man. Naw, I ain't shamed to say it: I'm too muh'fuckin' black. When I looked in the mirror, I said, “You's a black motherfucka, boy.” I started to come outside butt-motherfuckin'-naked. I got some shoes to match. They sharp than a motherfucker.

Black women don't cook when it's hot either.

You wanna get on your woman's nerves? Just say, “Damn, baby, you kinda stank.”

“You a motherfuckin' lie! That's your top lip, motherfucka!”

If you tell black people they stank—black people're too clean, man! We don't like nobody talking about you musty or somethin' like that, man.

Just fuck wit' ya woman. When she come by and try to hug you, you know, just say, “Damn, baby, what the fuck you been doin'?” “What you mean, what the fuck I been doin'?” “You kinda tart. Kinda tart.” “Yo' mama tart! Yo' mama tart!” Now she wanna talk about my mama and shit, see.

Black women somethin' else. I love me some black women, boy. But black women, they want to be your mama, your father, your woman, your pastor. They want to tell you what the fuck to do all the got-damn time.

You go out to eat, they wanna order for ya.

Don't order for me! Don't order for me! I'm hungry than a motherfucka right now. Salad my ass!

What type of shit is this?

You can't drive. You be drivin' all nice and smooth, going to pick your woman up, man. You be singin' with the radio and all that type of shit.

Soon as you pull the fuck up and she come out the door, there it go, it's out the motherfuckin' window. Here she come, gettin' on your fuckin' nerves: “Slow down. Watch that light. You see those kids playin' over there? How come you ain't park there? Back it up!”

Shut the fuck up talkin' to me! Before I choke the shit out you! Shut up!

Bernie Mac and wife Rhonda McCullough.

I love you. But black women gotta run shit. Black women always wanna tell you what the fuck you can't do. Especially when it's company around.

What the fuck you mean, “Uh, no, no, no, no, no, no,
NOOOO?”
I'm a grown motherfuckin' man.

And if you get a page? Man, I don't give a fuck where you are, if you with your woman and somebody page ya? You better call somebody the fuck up. You better call
somebody
back, I'm not bull-shittin'.

'Cause she lookin' at you. Hard, too. That's when they take a long “blink.”

And if you don't call?

You know I ain't lyin'. Black women somethin' else, man.

See how the world is now? I'm gon' show you how the world changin'. Water used to be free. The shit is $2 now.

By the year 2000, if you ain't got your shit together, you gon' be fucked up. If you and your woman ain't tight, you gon' be fucked up.

See, everythin's changin'. Milk changed. I love me some milk. But I can't drink no motherfuckin' milk. I'm lactose intolerant. Milk fucks me up. If I drink some milk, you gon' have to get the fuck away from me. I'm tearin' that room up!
Fffffrrrrrttttttttttt!

You'll be like, “Gotdamn!”

You ever have a fart pain that come up by your heart?
Fffffr-rrrrttttttttttt!

You be like, “Man, that feels so much better! Got-damn!” You ever have a fart and your covers shook?
Fffffrrrrrtttttt!

Your woman be asleep; she just roll over, but she cuss you out: “You nasty motherfucka!”

How you sleep under that funk, man? I cut a fart the other day, and my wife was laying in the bed. I took the cover and put it over her head. All I seen was the bottom of the cover kickin' like a motherfucker!

All I heard was, “You tryin' to kill me!”

Everybody do it. Everybody.

But when you're with your woman, and she passes gas, she thinks it's cute.

Fffrrrrttt!

“Hee-hee-hee. You heard that?”

Like it's gon' be all right.

“Yeah, I heard it, you stankin' ass! What the fuck is wrong wit' you?”

A woman, on the first date, when you first meet her? And she cut a fart? It takes years to cut a fart in front of somebody, man. That means you tight. You got a relationship. You don't just meet a woman and she think she can just poot in front of you, like y'all “strong.”

You take her out on the night, you bring her to the door. “You know, I really enjoyed myself.”

“Me, too—”
Fffffffttttttttt.

You be talkin' to yourself: I know this bitch ain't farted!

You know I ain't lyin'. All of us human. Everybody make mistakes. We're human.

Me and my wife been together a long time; we've had our humbugs. Oh, we've had our humbugs!

You ever had a humbug wit' your woman, and y'all ain't speak for two weeks? Oh, that's some distressed shit! See, I'd rather cuss and fuss and for you to throw somethin' at me. But you don't talk to me for two weeks?

I don't know what's on you mind. I can't go to sleep around that kind of atmosphere. You ain't sayin' shit to me but want me to lay down. Everytime that motherfucka got up, I got up, too.

You read the paper: Motherfuckers'll fuck you up, man.

You ever had that thing with your wife where she's coming down the hallway? You're coming from one way, she's coming from the other. Y'all don't wanna touch and shit. Y'all
sliiiide
by and shit.

And black women, they're a trip. When they're mad at you like that and don't want to talk to you for two weeks, and the phone rings? They won't let you know. They'll just pick up the phone.

Riiiingggg.

Then they just put it down on the table and walk away. Two hours go by.

Hell, naw, I ain't get no got-damn telephone!

Or if you got kids, they say, “Go tell your daddy, ‘telephone.' ”

You ever run your kid when you and your woman was fussin'?

Two weeks go by, man, and see, the power of the coochie is a bitch. Women got the power 'cause they got that ol' pink eye. Coochie is something else. Coochie been in power since B.C. And it's been fuckin' motherfuckers up. All those Egyptians lost they mind over a piece of pussy.

Pussy can kill you and go to court and get off. Because women start that fuckin' cryin' and shit.

Let you, a man, get on the stand and start some fuckin' cryin'. The judge'll cuss your ass out.

Two weeks go by, you ain't had no pussy, you know you hot. You wanna make up. But as man, you can't do it. It's not right! Any man who make up first is a punk.

Hold out! Fight it out! I know your dick hard. I know you want some. You
shakin'.
She ain't helpin' none—she walkin' around with some ol' raggedy panties on with a big-ass hole near the crotch.

You sittin' in the chair, your dick so hard it's leakin'. But you don't want to say nothin'. She know what's up. Big-ass hole. Coochie just sittin' out there, just sittin' out there.

She come bendin' over near you, askin' you a fucked-up question while you all hard: “You seen the TV Guide? Huh? Oh, here it is. O-oh, I dropped it. Here it is.”

You lookin', lookin'.

Now, she walk out the room, stay for five minutes. Come back, ol' raggedy bra on, one titty all out, just hangin' out, nipple stickin' out like a .22 bullet. She scratchin' it and shit. Oh, you really hot now!

Then she go in the bedroom. Now you got to go in the room behind her. 'Cause you gotta play like you lookin' for something. You ain't got shit you lookin' for. She standin' by the dresser, you gon' walk behind her real close.

Now, y'all wrestlin'. You throw her on the bed, breathin' hard, tryin' to get your knee between her legs so you can pry it open.

Now, you finally get in there. You kissin' on her. She movin' her head left and right.

She finally start kissin' you. Now, y'all both fuckin' and screamin'. Then, you know you done bust a nut 'cause you start gruntin'. Need about ten pumps!

Now, she done came. Both of all y'all breathin' hard, like, “Whew, Shit.” Y'all lookin' at each other. Here come the bullshit . . .