I apologize for my erratic posting schedule, but I’m not gonna lie to you: I was abducted by aliens. Which is code for “I am a problematic procrastinator”. However, from this point forth, I will be posting the Lemons every two weeks. So Wednesday, July 5th, is when the next Lemons will be up. It never said Monday, July 1st. That wasn’t even a real date.
Praise be to the most high for the successful delivery of healthy twin babies that made finishing this chapter way easier.
Bernie: (Bill Cosby running a cult?)
Steve: (You couldn’t tell?)
Steve: So, um, are you like the brother of fathers or the father of brothers because I’m confused over here.
Bill Brotherfather: I am he who is him. I am the father and the brother. The grandfather and the forefather. I am strength in numbers though that number is one.
*Bill Cosby slowly pushes himself up from his chair, snatches the cane by his desk and begins walking around it towards Steve Harvey*
Dave: Bill, look–
Bill: Hush. I will get to you.
Bill: Steve. I hear you’re trying to buy NBC.
Steve: That’s a bold-faced lie, Bill Cosby. I don’t want no damn TV network.
Bill: But you might as well, the way you hosting all these shows. If you have no interest in it, then why are you here?
Steve: Well, see, Donald Trump sent me–
Bill: Donald Trump!? You some sort of Uncle Tom errand boy? I knew that Family Feud gig was fishy.
Steve: Actually, Drew Carey put me down wit-
Dave: Aw, man, you took the dick money.
Steve: The what-now?
Dave: No black man gets this far without taking the dick money. They show you a mountain of cash, say it’s yours, put their dick in it and tell you to get it.
Dave: How you think Kevin Hart got 8 movies out at the same time? His money got dick skin cells on it. That’s how.
Dave: Chocolate droppa my ass. Chocolate floppa dick in his mouth.
Bill: Stop all this homosexual jibber-jabber.
Bill: So what does Donald Trump want from the National Brotherhood Coalition exactly?
Steve: I don’t know, dismantling feminism or wha-
Bill: Dismantling feminism, eh?
*Bill Cosby coughs into his left hand*
Bill: And then what? Dismantling the black man? What do we get out of this?
*Steve leans back on the Brotherfather’s desk. Nate Parker raises an eyebrow.*
Steve: Trump wants to help the black community and he wants men to be men again. You put 2 and 2 together, and he’s helping the black male community be men again. Now, fellas: What is empowering black women more than ever right now?
Nate: False rape accusations
Bill: What Nate said.
*Steve points at Dave Chappelle*
Steve: This man gets it. Beyoncé Knowles.
Nate: Dave is right.
Dave: Look, every time she puts out a song, suddenly every woman powerful. She telling girls they run the world and that niggas gotta put a ring on it. Fuck all that.
Dave: It Beyoncé keeps putting out “Don’t Fuck Your Man” theme songs, humanity will be facing extinction. I don’t wanna be extinct, nigga!
Dave: I say give Trump a chance again.
Nate: But you just took it back.
Dave: That was for white people. They really don’t fuck with that nigga right now and I kinda like making money again, Nat Turner.
Bill: So what does the President want us to do?
*Steve does a birdman hand rub and smiles while looking at the group of iconic black men and Nate Parker*
Steve: . . . I don’t know, man. I’m lost.
*Madonna jumps down from the overturned truck just to catch an uppercut from Jiggaman. She falls backwards, hitting her elbow on the driver side tire. Beyoncé walks up behind Jay-Z and peeks around his shoulder.*
Madonna: Wow, I thought you would hit like a man. Now, Sean Penn. Tha-
Jay: If you come near my family, I’ma do that shit again, don’t fuck with me.
*Madonna rolls on to her stomach, pushes herself up on all fours and slowly tries to plant her right foot.*
Madonna: When I turn around, you’re so fucked.
*Beyoncé’s iPhone Napalm tesseracts to her ear*
Solo: What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?
*Jay cautiously walks over to Madonna just to flinch backwards when a gunshot goes off. Madonna falls to her side and groans like that lady that was squashing grapes with her feet and fell out the bucket. Like, she was like “oou, oou, oou” like a seal*
BeckyWithTheGrayHair: Stop making that noise or I’ll shoot you again.
Jay: Yo, did you murder Madonna?
Becky: That bullet was so rubber. I’m not going to kill someone in front of our queen while she’s pregnant. Are you nuts?
*Becky runs over to Beyoncé’s side and prostrates before her*
Becky: Please forgive me. I’m a horrible double agent, I am.
Bey: Yeah, you are.
Becky: This is all my fault.
Bey: Most of it, yeah.
Becky: I love you so much, you are glowing. You are more perfect every day.
Bey: Thank you. Now pick your gun back up.
Becky: Yes, gracious Goddess of Progress.
*Becky grabs her weapon and immediately points it at Madonna again. She sees Madonna’s foot slide around the corner and snickers.*
Becky: And where do you think you’re going?
*Becky leans against the bottom of the truck’s front bumper and then turns the corner to see Slaybell stabbing the shit out of Madonna*
Slaybell: And you thought!
Slaybell: You would crawl in my direction!
Slaybell: And LIVE!?
Becky: You big, tall, pleather body suit, butt surgery bitch.
*Slaybell darts her head up*
Slaybell: Aaaand how long were you holding that in?
Becky: Since I met you, now stop stabbing her.
*Slaybell looks down at Madonna’s frequently impaled corpse. Madonna’s hands are down her pants.*
Slaybell: I don’t remember doing this.
Jay: Aw, man, what.
*Jay and Bey come around the corner to survey the carnage*
Bey: lol oh shit. They killed Madonna, baby.
Jay: I. . . Yeah. . .
Slaybell: I apologize. I lost control.
Bey: Nah, this is flame emojis.
Jay: So we just gonna leave her here in the open near Neil Patrick Harris’ house?
Becky: Way ahead of you.
*Beckywiththegrayhair begins dragging Madonna’s body on to a puddle of gasoline and pulls out a zippo lighter.*
Becky: My Matriarch and Friend, you must move.
Bey: No, I wanna see.
*Jay and Slaybell grab Beyoncé under her left and right arms respectively and lift her away from Becky and Madonna’s body*
Becky: That should be far enough.
*Becky flicks her zipp one last time and drops it on the edge of the puddle. The gasoline lights before Becky even starts running. Becky reaches the others by the time it engulfs Madonna’s super old body*
Becky: I was *gasp* figuring *deep inhale* It would blow up-
*THE VAN EXPLODES, SENDING DEBRIS EVERYWHERE IN A 500 FOOT RADIUS. MADONNA’S HEAD LANDS IN SOME GRASS BY the road and Beyoncé points at it*
Bey: Slaybell, I’d like to keep that.
Slaybell: Yes, Creator of Dance Choreography.
*Slaybell jogs off towards the head*
Jay: Where are we going to put that?
Bey: The same place I put Aaliyah’s.
Jay: . . .
Jay: I’m ready to go like a motherfucker.
*A blue Corvette screeches to a stop behind Beyoncé and company. Naomi420 hops out of the passenger side*
Naomi420: Queen Lord, please take my seat.
Jay: So you just gonna leave me?
Bey: Yes, nigga, I’m in labor.
Jay: Wait, what? Wait.
Bey: It started when I was fighting Madonna, before Slaybell roundhouse kicked her.
Bey: If I would’ve said something, she would’ve gone easy on me.
Jay: But she knew you were pregnant.
Bey: If you had a uterus, you would understand.
Jay: No. I understand that you fucking wild.
*Beyoncé walks over to the door and looks inside to see BlueTammy at the driver seat*
BlueTammy: Get in, not-loser. We’re going. . . Babying?
Bey: Anywhere but here. I need a break from these dummies before we plan how to find Prince.
Bey: Not you, Slaybell.
Bey: Not you, Naomi.
Bey: Not you, Becky.
Bey: Not you, corpses.
*Jay-Z raises his hands and looks towards the sky as if he was frozen in time while asking god “Why?”*
Bey: You’re the dummy.
Jay: I used context clues.
Bey: Because you’re my smart baby!
*Beyoncé blows Jay a kiss before closing the car door. BlueTammy gives everyone a kinda sorta wave and pulls off into the night*
Jay: So, are y’all guarding me or something?
Becky: There’s not enough room in Tammy’s car, obviously. I just called us an Uber.
Jay: Okay, cool.
Becky:. . . Are you gonna call yours?
*Jay looks simultaneously amused and offended*
*An all white Mercedes-Benz SSS- class pulls up, running over a Warner Bros. mercenary in the process. The car parks and out comes Tina Knowles-Lawson. Blue Ivy gets out of the back seat and closes the door.*
Mama T: Where my daughter at before I start spin kicking niggas?
*Slaybell kneels before Beyoncé’s creator*
Slaybell: She has gone into labor, Mother Bee. Tammy is taking her to the proper medical facilities.
Mama T: OH. OH !
*Mama T gets back in the driver seat of the Benz*
Mama T: Are y’all coming? Blue gonna have to sit on somebody lap. Preferably somebody without blood on their clothes.
Jay: I call shotgun.
Slaybell: Beg fucking pardon?
Becky: Wow, how dare you?
Naomi420: No, wait, guys. He’s the reason Beyoncé has babies right now.
Slaybell: . . . Whatever. The princess sits in your lap, though.
*Naomi picks up Blue Ivy, whom was wrist deep in a dead soldier’s pocket, and hops in the back of the car. The others follow suit, with Jay getting shotgun.*
Naomi420: Hey, what you got there, girl?
Blue Ivy: A fidget spinner!
*Blue Ivy begins spinning a shuriken on her finger*
Blue Ivy: This is like the one’s ninjas have. Everybody’s going to be super jealous.
*Naomi stops the shuriken and takes it off her finger*
Naomi420: Uh, let’s show this to your mom first.
Blue Ivy: No.
Becky: So do we know which hospital she’ll be at.
Jay: Oh, we shut down the whole floor of the UCLA medical center. Light work.
Becky: I had one of my daughters in a kiddie pool in the basement of a 7-11.
Becky: Me and my husband were ducking the federal government at the time.
Becky: the Reagan Era was something else.
Jay: . . . 7-11s have basements?
*Mama T drives past a police barricade and to the front of the UCLA medical center, just to see Beyoncé holding two bundles between two women wearing Iron Man type mech suits*
*Jay Z jumps out of the car before it stops moving and runs towards Beyoncé*
Jay: Nah, what.
Beyoncé: You took long enough. Come. Look at our babies.
Jay: But it was like five minutes-
Beyoncé: Oh, that’s right, you weren’t here when I teleported into a helicopter. Stop treating me like I’m regular.
*Matthew Knowles peeks over Beyoncé’s right shoulder*
Matt: Aww, my precious grandbabies.
*Beyoncé does a jumping Black Panther front flip and lands next to Jay Z with their offspring*
Matthew: Wow, this is how we’re treating daddies now? Sheesh.
*A Toyota Camry drives past the Harris-Burtka household and comes upon the grizzly scene left by Beyoncé’s squad. The driver picks up his cell phone and makes a call.*
Chris Hemsworth: Hello? Yes, I’m your ride for today. Oh? It’s really impolite to leave and not cancel, ma’am.
Chris: Did you know there are a bunch of dead bodies here?
Chris: You did?
Chris: And you didn’t call the police?
Chris: . . . Ma’am, you don’t sound like a real ass bitch, you sound like my grandma.