Who Made The Potatoe Salad? Page #5

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I'm just not into all that.

- What are you into?

- Actually I'm a...

You... What was that word

you were about to say?

Come on, come on, say it, say it,

or I'm gonna beat your ass, say it!

Cop.

Help. Help.

Let him go, let him go, Monster,

let him go.

No, this is your last day on Earth, cop.

One-time killed my brother.

You gonna die today, pig.

- Daddy? Monster, he tripping again.

- I'm gonna bust your ass up, too, b*tch.

What did I tell you?

What did I tell your big ass?

Not to step foot

in my goddamn house again.

Motherf***er!

Bust your ass again

like I did the last time.

I was just leaving, Mr. Jenkins.

You'd better!

Before I pop another cap up in your ass.

Big son of a b*tch.

You all right?

Yeah, I'm fine,

he started choking me by surprise, I...

Not you, a**hole.

I'm talking to my daughter.

You all right, baby?

I'm fine, Daddy. I'm fine.

And you're supposed to be

a goddamn cop.

The sh*t I do for your love.

You hungry?

So, your dad really wanted you

to marry this Malik guy?

Yeah.

I mean, his dad and my dad,

they were both in the Party together.

And it kind of seemed like

the perfect match, you know?

- Up until he robbed that bank.

- What?

Yeah, he's been in jail

for the past five years.

- How much time did he get?

- Quadruple life.

And this is the man

your dad wanted you to marry?

Yeah.

I love you, Ashley.

But I ain't robbing no banks

for your ass or your daddy's approval.

Ashley.

Don't forget where you are, young lady.

Now, this thing came in the mail

for you today.

- What is it?

- Some kind of tape.

Didn't have a return address on it.

Why not pop it in and see what's on it?

Come on, baby, break this up right here,

let's make a little space.

I can never get comfortable on this couch.

Where'd that come from?

They don't even serve corn in here.

Look, baby, it's Malik.

Hey, baby. It's Malik.

Daddy, do we have to watch this?

How come you block all my calls

at every residence you move to?

Ashley, let's just watch it

and see what he has to say,

it might be something really nice.

And return all my letters. Unread.

I just thought

maybe you want to holler at a nigga.

Thanks to this new videogram program,

put together

by Governor Schwarze-n*gger,

I'm able to send you

this small visual massage.

Just for you.

They say it helps keep us

grounded in reality.

You probably wondering

why I sent you this.

'Cause you got a big old, fat, juicy ass, girl,

and the motherfucking titties.

Them motherfuckers float over my head

every night when I'm dreaming.

Plus, Daddy just wanna make sure

his baby girl all right.

Me? I'm cool, you know what I'm saying?

Long as there ain't no crooked cop

trying to assassinate me.

Getting shanked by a nigga.

Motherf***er trying to... You know,

inmates sodomize a motherf***er,

treat me like I'm some kind of

fairytale sh*t. You know what I'm saying?

Or a motherf***er

get some food poisoning,

with all that bullshit

they serving down there.

Still trying to figure out

how the f*** I get corn in my sh*t,

and they ain't even had

that motherfucking sh*t in here.

Other than that,

prison's been a positive,

positive experience.

I never told you what went wrong

with the "alleged" bank robbery.

You know, it wasn't the "alleged" bank

robbery that got me quadruple life, no.

It was the amount of explosives

and arsenic they found at the crib.

They tried to charge me

with a terrorist act.

I ain't no motherfucking terrorist!

I don't fit the motherfucking description,

George Bush, boy!

Anyway, I just opened up 'cause,

I guess it's my institutionalized way

of saying I'm sorry.

You knows, what we had, baby,

was special.

You remember that time,

your high school prom,

when I came to pick you up?

And everybody like, "Who the f***

this old dude?

"You know, coming to grab

a little shorty," right?

Like I was some kind of child molester

or some sh*t.

You know what I'm saying? Remember

I bust caps in the air,

and all them little b*tches ran?

All right, I took you down

to the Bonaventure.

And I taught you how to do it tiger-style.

I will never forget that sh*t,

and I know you won't, either.

Power of duct tape.

Girl, there ain't a day go by

in this motherf***er

I don't think about you.

You know what I'm saying?

When I'm shanking the sh*t out of a

motherf***er, I'm thinking about you, girl.

Yeah, when I'm squirting the motherf***er

with lighter fluid

all between that motherf***er's cell,

and I drop that match on that b*tch...

I'm thinking about you, girl.

When I'm in this motherfucking cell,

by myself late at night.

You know what I'm saying?

You know, I'm not really by myself,

'cause I got my b*tches,

you know what I'm saying?

I got my motherf***er...

Petroleum jelly.

$1.99.

Commissary. They got deals

up in this b*tch.

And I start beating up on the defendant.

Guilty, guilty, guilty.

I'm thinking about you, girl.

Daddy, please shut this off.

Guard, get in here.

He's doing it again. Guard?

Oh, man, what the f*** you want?

Every time a nigga

try to get a jack session here,

here come your tight-suit-wearing

motherfucking ass.

- Put your hands up against the wall.

- F***, no.

Put your hands down,

where the hell you going?

Nigga, you gonna jack it off for me?

- Get down on...

- Pull the...

What the f*** you looking at,

you bubble-eyed bastard?

Cover's on the side of the couch,

Keystone Kop.

And, Ashley, I think it's about time

you made your way upstairs to go to bed.

Tiger-style.

Whatever.

Michael?

Baby.

- What are you doing here?

- What do you think?

- What about your daddy?

- What about him? I'm a big girl now.

Big girls do big people things.

Baby.

- Really, we should...

- Should what?

- We should keep this PG-13.

- Okay.

- Baby, be gentle.

- I will.

That's it.

Wake it up, a**hole.

It's breakfast.

You might want to put that thing away.

'Cause we don't want no hard d*cks

at the breakfast table.

- Good morning, baby.

- Good morning, baby.

Good morning.

Okay, Michael,

this is my grandma and grandpa.

Oh, great, okay, it's a pleasure

to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins.

No, baby, this is my mama's parents,

Mr. and Mrs. Brown.

Yeah, and you get that sh*t right.

Very nice to meet you,

Mr. and Mrs. Brown.

- Glad to meet you, too, son.

- Very nice to meet you, Patrick.

You'll have to excuse her,

she's a little senile.

- What?

- No, no. It's okay, it's okay.

He's a nice young man.

Too bad you couldn't have met

a nice young man.

Now I've said something to you before

about that sh*t.

Don't come over here

and start no sh*t with me.

- Not today, please, Papa.

- Come on, Papa, it's Thanksgiving.

You need to shut up.

Your man ain't about sh*t, either.

Your daddy about to get

his old light-skinned ass whooped.

- That's what's gonna down...

- Paul will beat you like...

Hey, hey!

Can't we just be civil for five minutes?

This is Michael's first visit with us.

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