I Ain't Scared of You (22 page)

Time-out is some bullshit. I don't play them fucking games. See, our generation dropped the ball with their kids. We talk about we want to give our kids more than what we had. Naw, more ain't better. See, we fucked up. Don't you hate it when your relatives bring their kids over your house and they jumping on your furniture and shit?

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I'll babysit your kids all day if you let me hit them. If I babysit your kids, you won't need no hidden camera to see how I'm treating them. You come pick your kid up and he got a knot on the corner of his fucking head, don't ask what happened to your kid. I took a hammer and slapped the fuck out of him! When he got a rope burn around his neck, it's because I tried to hang the fuck out of his ass.

I'll tell you something else I don't like. I hate the fuck out of funerals. Black funerals? I ain't going to another funeral. I ain't going to my own funeral. I went to my cousin's funeral the other day. It was the most aggravating thing I've ever experienced in my life. I told my wife I ain't going to no more fucking funerals.

They lost my muthafucking cousin. We got to the funeral, and it was about to be four or five funerals because they done lost the body. They opened the casket, and my auntie say, “That ain't my muthafucking son! You better find my muthafucking son before I blow this muthafucka up! Find my baby! Find my baby!”

They rolled that muthafucka out, brought in another casket. It was him. But he had on black. And that was the wrong outfit that muthafucka had on. My auntie say, “That ain't the outfit I brought him! He don't like black! He wouldn't be caught dead in black! I bought him brown. Y'all better get some brown on my baby!” They roll him out, come back three minutes later, and she say, “Now that's my baby. How y'all change him so fast?” They say, “We just change the muthafucking head.” All that hollering, I'd have changed the heads, too. He's dead!

That's why I ain't having no funeral. To hell with a funeral. If you can't treat me right while I'm alive, fuck it. I ain't gon' know you're there. I just wish I could stage my own death. Just play like I'm dead. So I can see the no-good sumbitches when they come to my funeral. I'd be laying there like I'm dead and I ain't dead. I just want to raise up on a few people and cuss they asses out. Oh, don't let a person come by that owe me some money. That's when I'm
going to grab their fucking arm: “Aw, hell naw, hell naw! You got my money?” You know you want to do that. Don't you want to tell people off sometime? But you scared. You say, “Fuck off!” You'll tell your woman or man, “Fuck off!” But a person on the street? Naw, you say, “Let it go, let it go. I don't want no trouble, let it go.”

I never thought I'd be like this. I used to be the hammer. Now I ain't nothing but the nail. I'm an oral sexer. Oral sex, if it ain't done right, will make a person fight. A woman will tell you in a minute. “Get up! Stop, get up, go on over there. I'll do it my muthafucking self.” And you sit there, watching. If a man is getting it from his wife or somebody he like, it's different. If it's your wife, and she ain't doing it right:

Now if a woman tells you “right there,” she means, right there and don't move. And your back be hurting like a sumbitch, don't it? You be saying to yourself, “I'll be glad when this sumbitch come!” Oral sex is the same way. She saying, “Ooooh! Ooooh!” “Oooh” make me sick. “Ooooh” means you gon' be licking for four more hours.

I was over my brother's house the other day, and my nephew came in. Me and my brother are playing pool, and he says, “Daddy what's the difference between a hypothetical question and a realistic question?”

My brother, he's kinda slow, too. He says, “They basically mean the same thing, but sometimes they're different, sometimes. For
example,” he said, “go upstairs and ask your mother if she would make love to the mailman for $250,000.”

My nephew went upstairs and came back and said, “Daddy, Mama said she'd make love to the mailman, the milk man, and any other man for $250,000.”

My brother said, “Go downstairs and ask your sister if would she make love to the next door neighbor for $250,000.”

He ran downstairs and came back three minutes later. He said, “Daddy, she said she would make love to the next door neighbor and the whole neighborhood in the next block for $250,000.”

My brother looked at me. I looked at him. He said, “Son, sit down. See, son, hypothetically speaking, we should have half a million dollars.” He said, “But realistically speaking son, we live with two hoes!”