I Ain't Scared of You (6 page)

Read I Ain't Scared of You Online

Authors: Bernie Mac

BOOK: I Ain't Scared of You
3.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Ya hidin' from the law? Get you an apartment across the street from the police station. Ain't nobody ever gon' think to look across the street.

When you wanted by the police just walk past 'em. It can be four police right here, talking to each other.

Just walk past.

FUGITIVE:
How ya doin', officers?

POLICEMAN:
How ya doin'? Anyway, yeah, we gon' catch that motherfucker.

And you keep on goin'.

ME:
I'm always talkin' about how I'm getting too old to fuck. People ask me, “Well, what about women your age? Are they tired?”

Lemme tell ya: I think women are in a different mode physically. I think they get tired of it when they get a certain age. But when they get it, they are more in tune to it than we are. Because when they get it, their body chemistry just goes to the left. They gotta have it.

A woman can last longer than a man physically and internally. She can go longer without. Like a woman might go without sex for six, seven months. But when that muthafucka do get it? Boy, you'd better be in shape 'cause she might break somethin' off.

FRIEND:
I seen a few that had been celibate for like seven, eight years.

ME:
Oh, yeah. They crazy than a motherfucka, too. A nut will make you go crazy, man, really. If you don't get a nut, you will cuss a motherfucka out. You see those evil-ass women on the job and shit? 'Cause they ain't been bustin' no nut.

And plus, women got tools. It's so unfair. When God made us, man, He shorted us. I ain't chargin' His work, but women got toys—dildos, vibrators, all that sort of shit—to get off. You can't compete with no dildo.

They got this thang called the Beaver, man. It's a dildo with a little bitty tongue that goes over the woman's clit. Make a man jealous.

FRIEND:
Shiiit,
that's my added help.

ME:
Uh-unh. A lot of cats are insecure, man. You can't do nothing with that Beaver. That motherfucka will have women throwing up, man.

FRIEND:
That's okay.
Sheeeiiit.
Go 'head, babygirl. Do yo' thang.

ME:
Man, women get that thang, they be lookin' like they were electrocuted.

FRIEND:
I just be like, “Want me to help you?”

ME:
You turn that Beaver on they ass, they don't need
you.
The only thing that they need you for is to be next to them, for that warmth.

FRIEND:
That muh'fuckin' nut be getting close, they grab your muh'fuckin' head, pull you close. Man!

I'm not a church person really. Don't get me wrong: I grew up in church, and I love the Lord and all. I believe in God with all my heart and soul, and I'm a born witness that there is a God. But now, as an adult, I'm not one to be all up at somebody's church.

I think that church has gotten to the point where it's a scam. It's a business. The Catholics have been doin' it for years. I think that blacks are now getting in tune to it.

Like the churches in LA. They gotta have all the celebrities out. You got Magic there and Stevie Wonder and all them. It ain't nothin' but a conversation piece. It's about popularity, and I ain't never been no popularity buff.

These people get all caught up in the size of the church and the membership and the preacher's name, and everything else but God. They worried more about the building.

Any time you got a church that look like a doggone mall, something is wrong.

People say they go to church to bring themselves peace. Yeah, they go to give them serenity for the wrong they do.

A muh'fucka go to church on Sunday, but step on the their toe on Monday and see what happens. The do wrong on Monday, get high on Tuesday, get drunk on Wednesday, fight on Thursday, commit adultery on Friday, lie on Saturday—and then they wanna pray on Sunday.

Or else a muh'fucka just mess with church when things're going wrong for 'em. It take somethin' tragic for 'em to straighten up.

Ya blood test done came back. You got a doctor's appointment on Tuesday. I call you up like, “Hey, man, what you doin?”

“Aw, I'm just sittin' here readin' mah Bible. Twenty-third Psalm, you know.”

Hypocrite ass.

One of the things I hate about how life is now is that you just don't have quality nothin' no more. People just don't make good stuff like they used to.

Milk used to make bones strong. Now, it makes you sick than a muh'fucka. It'll have you shittin'. You gotta take pills to drink some milk now.

Water used to be free. That shit costs you two muh'fuckin' dollars now.

You used to be able to take medicine and get better. Now, the medicine will fuck you up worse than the illness. You ever see those commercials for medicine?

“Take this for your whooping cough. But warning: the side effects will make your nose bleed, could cause high blood pressure, blindness in one eye, stomach aches, and tightness in the wrist.” You like, “Fuck it. I'll just deal with the whoopin' cough.”

Bernie Mac at eight years old.

'Cause there ain't no quality shit no more.

Why is that, when you're black and successful, everybody feels like they're part of that and you owe them?

Don't be no doctor. People will come ring your doorbell at three o'clock in the morning.

DOCTOR:
Who is it?

NEIGHBOR:
It's Antoinette. Pookie sick! He red all around the throat.

DOCTOR:
You should take him to a hospital.

NEIGHBOR:
Well, you know, I ain't got no medical insurance. Can you write me a prescription out? C'mon, this is
Pookie!
You know, Pookie used to play with your son for many years. We grew up together. Don't bullshit. This is me!

What the fuck does that mean? Why niggas always try to say that? “This is me, man!”

NEIGHBOR:
C'mon now. This is me! Pookie bleedin' out his mouth
and
his ass!

DOCTOR:
But I don't know what he has. Plus, I'm a pediatrician, not a general practitioner.

NEIGHBOR:
You can give me some antibiotics to clear him up.

DOCTOR:
You
need
to take him to a hospital.

That's when the muh'fucka really go off.

NEIGHBOR:
Oh, see, you done forgot where you came from! Well, I didn't! I didn't! I remember when your daddy was sucking dick behind the funeral parlor while your mama was in the front selling hot dogs without the bun! I remember when you used to smell like piss!

I remember all that!

I remember when your brother got his head busted out on 63rd with a pair of click-clacks! Who rushed him to the hospital, got him three stitches across this muthafucking eye? Me! Now, my son Pookie, you can't even give him some antibiotics? You'll get yours!

And they always say, “nigga” at the end, like it's punctuation.

NEIGHBOR:
That's alright. Your day'll come—nigga!

Boy, motherfuckers are a trip.

Most of people's problems are self-brought-on. People make bad decisions and try to blame other people for their lives.

You ain't gon' get ahead with seven kids. You ain't gon' get ahead, and you're dealing with four, five women. Or if you lyin' and cheatin' and partyin' all night. Somewhere in there, something's going to have to give. A bill ain't gon' get paid or something. And you know what they say about bills: “Once you get behind, that
is
your behind.”

But still, people want to do that and then wonder why their life is like it is. And then you gon' go and get mad at the brother who's tryin' to do something with himself, the brother with triple A credit.

You comin' to his house talkin' that bullshit: “Hey, man, uh, let me use your license plate, man.” “C'mon, man, why don't you let me borrow your car?”

Ain't that some shit!? You done tore up your shit, now you wanna tear up mine. Talkin' 'bout you'll get my shit fixed. Nigga, you couldn't repair
your
car when the muh'fucka had a flat!

Your life is all fucked up! Your wife left you, and now you fuckin' her sister. Don't think nothin's wrong with that. But you want respect.

You scream, “I'm a man!” But you don't work. Muh'fuckas come in the house, you sittin' around smokin' cigarettes. You live in the basement. You go in your mama's purse, tryin' to get some change. Talkin' about, “You want somethin' from the store, mama?”

You hopin' she gives you a ten-dollar bill so you can keep the change. You come back home,
“Where the change?”
That shit is high
than a muh'fucka. Nigga done bought some cigarettes and a quart of beer. Sorry muh'fucka.

Lil' kids in the neighborhood don't respect you. You want the lil' kids to call you “Mister,” but they still callin' you June Bug. You mad: “It ain't June Bug! It's Titus!”

I tell kids: you see him standing on the corner talking shit? He gon' be that muh'fucka 20 years from now. On another corner—talking shit. Or at someobdy's fucked-up job—talkin' shit.

The nigga's at the job puttin' down people who work hard: “You know he wannabe supervisor. You know that, right?”

Like something wrong with that!

“Ol' company man ass nigga. Come to work on time. The shit start at seven, he there at quarter to.” The hard-workin' guy put in overtime and here you go: “Damn, you tryin' to make all the money, nigga?”

Bernie Mac with Miller Lite Comedy Search winner Damon Wayans and Miller Genuine Draft representatives.

I used to work two shifts, right? Muh'fuckas used to walk by, “Wha, you got stock in the company?”

I respect anybody who works hard for what they get. People who try. You got brothers who don't work for nobody, who have paid their dues and can work at home taking care of kids.

People get mad at shit like that. Some nigga out there mad. He's just come home from work. He done got wrote up on the job. Meanwhile, you up on the balcony sippin' a brew, watchin' your kids and talkin' shit into the mic.

That's the luxury of paying dues. I got my hat off to anybody who sacrificed their lives to better themselves. Michael Jordan was drinking milk. He wasn't drinkin' cognac and smokin' squares. He flyin' and you mad: “Aw, man, fuck all that shit. I coulda made the NBA, but you know. . . .” Nigga, while you hangin' out, Mike is doin' squats.

Look at Tina Turner. She worked for hers. Her body looks good, better than a lot of 19-year-olds. Now, if she takes her teeth out, she'll scare the fuck outta you—but her body looks good. She worked at it.

Niggas don't want to educate themselves, then get mad at you for trying to do better: “Ol' brilliant ass muh'fucka. Fuck you.”

I was reading a book one time. A nigga told me, “Man, put that shit down and come on over here and smoke this joint!”

I said, “I'll tell you what you do, muh'fucka. I'll smoke that joint if you read this book.”

That way, we'll both be fucked up.

See, man, most grownups ain't nothin' but some big ass kids and most kids ain't nothin' but some lil' ass adults. People who call themselves adults be some stupid muh'fuckas a lot of times. You see where the kids get it from—and that's where the humor comes from. Because you can't believe this shit!

I saw a woman trying to correct her daughter the other day. The daugher said, “I'm ain't.”

The woman got mad. She said, “What'd I tell you about sayin' ‘I'm ain't?' It's ‘I'm isn't!'”

Then niggas try to act like they finally get an understanding of things. But it be too late.

Other books

Hidden Heat by Amy Valenti
The Suburban Strange by Nathan Kotecki
Parthian Vengeance by Peter Darman
Girl Parts by John M. Cusick
The Cider House Rules by John Irving
Knox's Stand by Jamie Begley
Clockwork Princess by Cassandra Clare
The Horseman's Bride by Elizabeth Lane