The Lemons Part 26






*Prince sits crossed-legged on the terrace of the Harris-Burka home, eyes closed as if in a gentle slumber*


*Harper walks over to Prince and touches his scarf, causing Prince to flinch way as if a hot lighter grazed his ear*


Prince: What in the

Harper: I like your headscarf, Mr. Nelson.

Prince: Thank you, little girl. Where are your parents?

Harper: They’re doing yoga, too. It must be yoga time.

Prince: Its not yoga, it’s meditating. Do you want to meditate?

Harper: What’s meditating?

Prince: Its when you sit down, close your eyes and don’t make any noise at all. When you do it for 20 minutes, food tastes better and you can stop time.

Harper: You can stop time?

Prince: Sure can. See.

Harper: See what?

Prince: I just did it.

Harper: Wooooooooow!

Prince: Come on, sit down like this.


*Harper sits crossed legged next to Prince*


Prince: Now, this is where you close your eyes and stop talking.

Harper: What if I have to pee?

Prince: Then you can get away from me and go pee.

Harper: Okay.

Prince: Now close your eyes and imagine that you’re at a unicorn soccer game or something, but only cheer in your head.

Harper: Okay


*Harper closes her eyes and seals her lips. Prince quietly chuckles to himself and goes back to his own meditation.*


Neil: Holy crappie, this is so cute.

*Neil Patrick-Harris emerges from the house and Prince’s lips tighten*


Neil: If Beyoncé didn’t say that I couldn’t take pictures, I would take like 2,334 pictures.


*Harper screeches like a spider just fell on her chest and begins flailing around on the ground*


Neil: Oh my God!


*Neil runs over to Harper and David comes out of the house and kneels by her side*


David: Baby, what happened?

Harper: I was watching the unicorns play soccer and the Sugarport Luckyfluffs were winning, and then Sun Apple had made a mistake and stabbed Goldenlaugh with his horn! Goldenlaugh started bleeding and choking and everyone was crying and I didn’t know what to do!

Neil: Oh, honey. . .

Prince: What. Is going on.


Neil: She has a very active imagination. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it gets kinda dark. Such is raising a little creative.

Prince: Uh-huh

David: Let’s go in the house and watch some Kazoops.

Harper: Okay.


*Harper and David walk back into the house. Prince stands up and rolls up his meditation mat that the Dalai Lama gave him.*


Prince: Look, man, I don’t like dealing with no kids. Have you ever seen me around a child?

Neil: Hm, now that you mention it–

Prince: Do y’all just let your babies run around the house?

Neil: For the most part. We babyproofed the hell out of the place so that our children can know freedom.

Prince: Only one thing can lead your children to true freedom and that is following the light of Jehovah.

Neil: Oh, that’s awesome.

Prince: It is indeed awesome.

Neil: We’ve been teaching our precious children about all of the religions of the world and we have yet to teach the them about JWs.

Prince: Is that so?

Neil: Yes. We want our kids to grow up with knowledge of the world to help them make better decisions, you know? Nothing holds you back like ignorance.

Prince: Oh, don’t I know it.


*Prince puts his hand on Neil Patrick-Harris’ shoulder, but snatches it back once he realizes what he did*


Neil: Hahaha, come on, do you need hand sanitizer to wash away the gay germs.

Prince: The sinner germs.

Neil: No, I definitely meant gay.

Prince: Look, it’s nothing personal, but anything Jehovah isn’t wit, I am not wit. Now, pardon me while I find a new meditation area.

Prince: You and your family have interrupted my grinding.


*Prince readjusts the mat under his arm and walks into the house as Neil shakes his head and watches*


*Elsewhere, we find Patti, Taraji and Mariah sitting in Mariah Carey’s dining room. Solange Knowles stands in the living room by the doorway, listening to her sister speak of recent events. . .*


Solo: But whyyyyyyy?

Bey: Because he needs to be uncomfortable. He has too much comfort.

Solo: But the media is starting to get over Lemonade, boo. You closed the album with a love ballad. You forgave him, right?

Bey: Yes. And here I am never having given him something to forgive me for.

Solo: But PartyNextDoor is a WhoreForSure. Why him? I could’ve sworn you mentioned Anderson.Paak.

Bey: Who is extremely faithful. He covers his eyes when women bend over.

Bey: Besides, my respect for him wouldn’t let me ruin his relationship.

Solo: You don’t respect Drake?

Bey: No. He squirms easily and I find him adorable in a corny way.

Solo: Well, when are you leaving? I’m ready to go right meow. Please take me home, yo.

Bey: I will be leaving soon. O’Dell Beckham came to visit and things have become humorous.

Solo: Oh my god, I’m so jealous. I wish I was there.

Bey: You really don’t. OB O’Brien really wants to meet you.

Solo: Who?

Bey: Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you when our helicopter is close.

Solo: Oh. Okay.

Bey: I love you, sister.

Solo: I love your crazy ass, too

Taraji: Solo, what the fuck are you doing?

Solo: Bye


*Solo hangs up the phone and goes into the dining room*


Patti: We thought you abandoned us. It’s assassins trying to kill us and shit, girl. We gotta stick together.

Taraji: I’m not sticking to shit, Patti. I can’t with y’all no more. I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m done. I’m ready to go, Black Jesus.

Solo: Yeeeaah, I’ma be leaving, too.

Mariah: Well, I’m not going to stop you. The sooner y’all leave, the sooner I can get on James’ sky yacht.

Mariah: Its a fly-

Taraji: Flying yacht, no shit. I’m getting a heliuber or something. You coming, Solo?

Solo: You can come with me. My sister is getting us.

Mariah: Oh, Beyoncé is coming? How is she doing? Did she hop to the next dick yet? She should try it; It’s very reinvigorating.

Solo: I . . . will tell her that.

Mariah: How’s married life treating you, though? You’re married, right?

Solo: Yes.

Mariah: Is he cute? Is he black?

Solo: What the hell is this, fam?

Patti: Do you have any guns, Mariah? Submachine guns preferably? My pistol ain’t got much spunk left in her.

Mariah: BWAHAHAHA Patti, you the funniest and you know that.

Patti: Why she think I’m joking?




Aretha: Sit, Mandingo.


*Mandingo relaxes after hearing Aretha’s voice. Aretha?*


*Aretha walks in from the kitchen? And she stands next to the table and looks at Patti? How–*


Aretha: You blew up my goddamn house, you fat sea otter.

Aretha: You owe me one life-of-a-dumb-ass-bitch.


*At Drake’s Calabasas hangout, Drake enjoys a glass of orange juice in his kitchen when O’Dell Beckham Jr. walks over*


Drake: What’s good, ODB?

O’Dell: Shit, man, you know how it is. Out here catching balls and running with balls.

Drake: Hahaha

O’Dell: Playing with balls basically

Drake: Haaaaa. . .

O’Dell: Yo, I saw that shit Kid Cudi said about you. That’s fucking wack, yo.

Drake: No worries, no big ting. Meek basically said the same shit and no one cares. At least Meek made music people like in the past 3 years.

O’Dell: Forget that nigga


*O’Dell puts his hand on Drake’s shoulder and Drake looks at it like it just told him that it killed someone*


O’Dell: This is why you gotta keep real ones around you. I’m telling you, all my niggas got my back. We stay on each other.

O’Dell: About being real.

Drake: Of course.

O’Dell: Is it hot in here?

Drake: I mean, it’s like a pleasant humidity–


*O’Dell walks over to Drake’s refrigerator and opens it to see an entire shelf of water bottles*


O’Dell: Oh, shit! Mind if I wild out?

Drake: What?

Drake: I mean, yeah, you can have some water. The water is for everybody.

Drake: You gotta stay hydrated, right?

O’Dell: Man, you ain’t never lied.


*O’Dell opens the water bottle and begins pouring it all over his head and chest. He then shakes his head like a border collie that just came out of the rain.*


O’Dell: Sorry, man. I been playing football so long, I’m used to pouring the water on myself and drinking the Gatorade lol

Drake: Hahaha, yeah

O’Dell: I would say it’s the other way around, but Gatorade would have me all sticky.

Drake: Haaaaa, I know, right?

O’Dell: Yeah, I’d be sooo sticky.


*Drake becomes uncomfortable with O’Dell’s gaze but Beyoncé and Blue Ivy walk into the room before Drake is overcome by his awkwardness*


Bey: Am I interrupting something?

O’Dell: Wow, not at all, Queen Bey.

Drake: Oh, Beyoncé, am I glad to see you.

Bey: Really? Why?

Drake: Because. . .  You’re so pretty, you know?

Bey: Thank you. That’s not why, though.

Bey: Me and my baby will be leaving soon. I have enjoyed my time at your home. It was very fruitful.

Drake: Does that mean Blue enjoyed the produce garden?


Drake: It was. . .  it was like a reverse pun.

Bey: Okay, nigga.

Bey: Say goodbye, baby.

Blue: Bye, Drake. Bye Odle.

O’Dell: Lol bye

Drake: You know you’re always welcome, Blue. Mi castle, su castle.

Blue: Thank you!


*As Beyoncé and Blue exit the room, the Weeknd walks into it*


Weeknd: Goodbye, Beyoncé and Beyonce Jr. It was a pleasure.

Blue: Stop leaving so much sugar out.

Weeknd: Only when you’re here, princess.

Blue: Whatever.

Blue: Mommy, he’s so weird.


*Beyoncé and Blue head to their newly hijacked helicopter with pilot*


Weeknd: Drake, hahahaha, we need to speak. You have an issue.

Drake: What issue would that be?

Weeknd: Well, let’s let Funkmaster Flex tell it.


*The Weeknd lifts his phone which is running the hot 97 app*


Flex: Okay, it’s time


*Explosion Explosion*


Flex: See, me and the man Jay Z squashed the beef. It’s done. We spoke man to man.


*No they didn’t*


Flex: Bygones are bygones.


Flex: Jay Z got some words for yall. He’s pissed. Don’t play with him.




Flex: I’ma let him tell it, though. Let’s go. New Jay.




Somebody’s child: 808 mafia!

Jay: Listen

Jay: These little niggas need some reproach

Jay: They haven’t heard I’m the one you don’t approach.

Jay: You ain’t crashing the boards or calling them shots.

Jay: Stop.

Jay: I’m the one who knocks.

Jay: You must not have heard that I’m that guy.

Jay: I give the word, they shoot an owl out the sky.

Jay: Every body next door at the party now.

Jay: Then Hov come through and shut the party down.

Jay: Like, “hey man the music too loud”

Jay: Don’t get abused now cuz your dudes too proud.

Jay: I’m sending shots, better tighten up your vest

Jay: When October’s Very Own meets December’s Very Best


*Drake slaps both hands into his own face and drags them down slowly*


Weeknd: You wanted to be badman on campus so bad.

Drake: Shut up, Abel.



The Lemons Part 25






*Ava, Viola, Lil Mama, Octavia and Kirk look on in astonishment as Bernie Mac smirks at them with Kelly’s mouth*


Bernie: Y’all thought it was gonna be that easy, huh?

Ava: Why are you doing this?

Octavia: Yeah, it’s one thing to possess another man, but possessing a woman is out of line.

Bernie: That is ignorant. I can possess any body I want to. Gender and race shouldn’t matter. You being foolish.

Octavia: Why’d you bring race into this? You’re trying to distract m-

Kirk: How do we get him out of there!?

Bernie: Yeah, y’all figure that out.


*Kelly runs over to a window and busts it out with her elbow. She then runs past them out the door.*


Ava: Shit. I’m glad I used Viola card for this rental.

Viola: I’ma sue your whole shit. You paying for this.

Ava: You were just in Suicide Squad. You have the money.

Viola: Don’t bring up Suicide Squad no more.

Kirk: Um, can we help my friend? Why didn’t any of y’all chase her?

Ava: I don’t run

Octavia: Me neither

Viola: If i’m paid enough, eh

Lil Mama: She too big for me, I’m good.

Ava: After all the shit we went through to save your ass, we figured you’d be more grateful. Why ain’t you do it?

Kirk: My body isn’t capable. Something about being possessed just took so much of my energy.

Viola: Sounds like laziness to me.

Kirk: Can w-


*They all hear a car pull off and screech loudly*


Kirk: We could’ve caught up to her in that entire time we spent talking!

Ava: Whoops, I guess.

Octavia: Bernie said he had unfinished business. What could he be talking about?

Lil Mama: His family, maybe?

Octavia: I don’t think he would try to go see his family in Kelly Price’s body He’s smarter than that.

Kirk: That’s it. I’m walking to your house and getting my car.

Octavia: Bye

Ava: Peace


*Kirk shakes his head and walks out of the house*


Octavia: He didn’t even seem phased when he ended up in Kelly Price’s body.

Ava: Maybe he just high off of being a ghost.

Octavia: or maybe he realized he could use it to his advantage. He ran out of here pretty quickly. Maybe he looking for food.

Lil Mama: We can always search her twitter name or the Kelly Price hashtag. If anyone sees her being out of character, they’ll most likely go to social media.

Octavia: Smart girl! I apologize for saying I didn’t want you here. I didn’t, but I do now.

Lil Mama: Thank you, Miss Spencer.

Ava: Get off her dick. Jeez.

Octavia: Shut up!

Viola: So does that spirit serum kill the ghost or does it just remove it from the body?

Octavia: You can’t kill a ghost, dummy. It sends it back to the realm from whence it came.

Viola: Call me another dummy.

Octavia: Let’s go. We should be moving, at least.

Octavia: Moving towards a Wendy’s. I am starving.

Ava: And the first thing you thought of was Wendy’s? Wow. I–

???: Who the hell are you? Why are you in my house? Eek! My window!


*A light-skinned man with a beard and a dissheveled blonde wig stands in the doorway, clutching his fur coat*


Ava: Uh, you rented the house to us. On AirBnB? Joanne, right?

Joanne: I wouldn’t rent my house to an African-American. That is outrageous. If you don’t exit my caucasian house, I will call the police.

Ava: How is your house caucasian?

Joanne: You ask such lower middle class questions. I am offended that you would direct them at me.

Lil Mama: You’re not even whi-

Joanne: I don’t have any money or any jewelry. Please leave after you pay for my window.

Ava: We didn’t do that. That was definitely a rock from a neighbor kid.

Joanne: There are no neighbor kid rocks. Did you not read the signs?

Viola: Signs?

Joanne: Yes, signs. “No pets, No children, no liberals”. The one with the dreadlocks is clearly liberal. The small one is a child. You, I like the cut of your jib. What is your name?

Viola: Nunya

Joanne: Nunya? How ethnic. Maybe I won’t call the pol-

Police officer: afternoon, ladies. I heard reports of a break in?


*a tall white police officer and a black lady officer of average height walk into the house*


*Joanne is startled and jumps back like caveman SpongeBob*


Ava: This bitch the snitch of Snitchtown.

Joanne: Please don’t use slang at me.

Joanne: Yes, officers, there was no break in. I am the owner.

Ladycop: Is that so. . .


*the officer picks up a framed picture and shows it to Joanne*


Ladycop: This is you?


*The picture shows a middle-aged white woman hugging two equally white children*


Joanne: Can you not tell?

Ladycop: Ma’am, can I see your ID.

Joanne: Of course.


*Joanne reaches into her fur coat and pulls out a state ID. Several other cards fall on the floor as she closes her fur*


Joanne: Don’t look at those.


*the tall cop takes the ID and looks at it as Joanne grabs the cards from the floor. There’s a picture of a 50 year old white woman underneath the name Joanne Lipschitz*


Tall cop: Hm

Tall cop: Checks out. Would you like to fill out a report about the window? It helps with house insurance.

Joanne: No, it’s fine. Just continue to do a great job of protecting our caucasian community.

Joanne: Blue Lives Matter. Hermhermhermhermhermherm.

Tall cop: indeed.

Ava: Black Lives Matter

Tall cop: SHE’S GOT A GUN


*The officer reaches for his sidearm, but Lil Mama pulls her phone out and turns it sideways. The police officers hiss and scurry out of the door like vampires*


Joanne: Hm. I have to remember that.

Joanne: I will forgive you for my window because I have a warm, Anglo-Saxon heart. I am very wealthy, so paying for that window will be like replacing a key.

Ava: Thank you, most kind and confused bitch.

Octavia: We can help move the furniture, at least. That was. . .  That was our faults. . .

Joanne: Nonono, please. Please.

Joanne: I do my best cleaning alone and without cameras.

Octavia: Ooooookay. Bye.

Joanne: Yes, goodbye.


*Octavia, Ava, Viola and Lil Mama makes their way out the front door as Joanne Lipschitz closes it behind them, watching them cautiously*


Lil Mama: So. That was bizarre.


*A Subaru outback pulls into the driveway and parks next to Viola’s car. A 40-something year old white woman in a black dress gets out and shuts the door*


White Lady: Wow, holy fuck, why are Oscar nominees in front of my house?

Octavia: We’ve come to go.

White Lady: What?

Octavia: We must leave, uh

Ava: Aw. Shit. This not Sidney Poitier house. The fuck.

Viola: Hahaha, Google Maps, am I right?

White Lady: You’re so right. One time my husband insisted on following a dirt road because it was 4 minutes faster and how about we came across a furry orgy.

Viola: What?

Octavia: *Giggles with delight*

White Lady: So weird. Hey, do you guys want some water? Redd’s? Yuengling? Michelob? Boxed wine?

Ava: Yes

Viola: No. We must find Sidney Poitier.

Octavia: the great Sidney Poitier!

Lil Mama: Yes!

White Lady: Okay! Hahahahahahha.

Tiffany: My name’s Joanne by the way.

Lil Mama: Huh?

Octavia: Bu–

Joanne: Oh, hold on, my phone’s ringing. Just, uh, hold on. I have to HAVE TO get a picture with you guys.

Ava: Uhhhhhhhhhh

Joanne: Hello?

Joanne: Yes, hey, honey.

Joanne: You’re still driving that way? After what we saw before? Please do–

Joanne: What? You’re lying, you piece of shit.

Joanne: Because this sounds like a prank.

Joanne: “She was my beeest frieeeend. You were my huuuusband.” Her?

Joanne: Kevin. You need some sleep, Kevin.

Joanne: No, don’t call the police. They aren’t going to believe you.

Joanne: And if they do, what if they shoot a random black person?

Joanne: This shit happens, Kevin.

Joanne: Just mind your fucking business and come home. I think that place is a demonic portal.

Joanne: I love you, good bye.

Joanne: So my extremely exhausted husband claims that he saw Kelly Price pulling DL Hughley’s body out of a trunk.

Ava: Ah

Viola: Ha ha ha ho ho ho

Octavia: Oh, he is tripping, hahaha.

Joanne: It sounds like a MadTV sketch or something. Like, what? Hahaha

Joanne: So, that picture, though?

Viola: Yes, right now.



*the mystery team crowds around Joanne as she sets her phone up to take a selfie*


Joanne: Oh, is this your daughter, Viola?

Lil Mama: What? No, I’m Lil Mama.

Joanne: Oh, okay. I guess you can be in the picture, too.


Joanne: Cheese!


*Joanne snaps, like, 3 pictures*


Joanne: Amazing! Sorry for holding you guys up. Tell Sidney Poitier I said hi. Ava: Sure, okay.


*Avataviaolamama dart to Viola’s car and jump in*


Viola: Hey, which way is that shortcut your husband takes?

Joanne: Oh, its right down this road, make a left, make a right at the roundabout and go straight. Make a right on to the second dirt road you see and good luck. I’m going to bed.

Viola: Thanks, Joanne.


*Viola pulls her head back in as they pull out of the  driveway*


Octavia: So I think that guy in the wig was a liar

Lil Mama: And a scammer.

Ava: And none of our business. We need to find out if Bernie really about to kill one of the Kings of Comedy.

Octavia: Oh my god, what if that’s his unfinished business? Killing the other living Kings of Comedy?

Ava: First off, how did he get DL so fast? That shit was, like, immediate.

Octavia: It doesn’t matter. We need to find them


*Meanwhile, at Drake’s Calabasas Stronghold, Beyoncé receives a phonecall on her iPhone 12 as she watches Sausage Party with the OVO crew. She walks out of the regulation-sized theater and answers*


Bey: Yes.

Taylor: Beyoncé, I f’d up.

Bey: Do tell.

Taylor: I. . . I lo–. . . I. . . Oh, gosh.

Bey: You lost him.

Taylor: I’m so sorry, Yonce

Bey: This is actually wonderful.

Taylor: What? Really?

Bey: Yes. Now I don’t have to speak to you anymore.


*the iPhone 12 rolls into a perfect sphere and floats away. Beyoncé walks back into the theater*


Bey: Wow, you didn’t pause it?

Drake: You can’t get the full theater experience that way.

Bey: I can already hear Rihanna breaking your heart.


*Beyoncé’s iPhone 14s floats into the room and writes Jay Z’s name in the air*


Bey: Lol. I must take this.

Drake: Of course.


*Beyoncé answers the phone*


Bey: Yello.

Jay: “She’s wearing my scent”? Really?

Bey: Its a harmless song, baby.

Jay: You playing games, B.

Bey: Like, what games? Like the one where you catch a flight to Moscow and claim it’s business but there’s a bonus stage where you fuck another bitch?

Jay: Wow, but you don’t get a nigga back like that.

Bey: First off, nigga, I’m not Foxy Brown.

Bey: Second, you think that’s getting you back? I’m just having fun, right now.

Jay: Well, you’re having too much fun, now.

Bey: Nowhere near as much fun as you’ve had.

Jay: Look, you keep bringing up old shit.

Bey: I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. There’s a big dick trying to talk to me. Later.

Jay: Wow, don’t–


*Beyoncé hangs up*


Bey: I wonder how long I should torture him.

Drake: You better hope he doesn’t write a diss about you.

Bey: Lol, I’d flame his dumb ass.


*meanwhile at the Carter mansion. . .*


Kanye: So what are you gonna do?

Jay: . . . I’m going in the booth.



The Lemons Part 24







*Drake and Beyonce sit on a Terrace in Drake’s west coast home, an OVO table separating their bodies. Drake is giving his phone a serious look and then decides to speak.*


Drake: So, uh, I’m not really sure if I can go with this plan.

Bey: Why.

Drake: Well, I kinda have someone and if she sees me in public with another woman, it wouldn’t be a good look, ya know?

Drake: I mean, seen?


*Beyoncé stands up and walks directly in front of Drake*


Drake: Uh. . . Um, yes?

Bey: So you’re denying my request because of a potential girlfriend. Are you forgetting I’m the most important woman alive?

Drake: I know, but. . . I’ve waited for her a long time. . .

Bey: Oh, did Nicki break up with Meek? Good, I can talk to her again.

Drake: No, no, it’s not her.

Bey: Well.

Bey: This would have been good publicity for you.

Bey: Views is doing well statistically but I doubt people are looking forward to your next album. Your buzz is dwindling and you may not feel it now, but you will.

Bey: Every time a new Chief Keef imitator with fruity pebble dreadlocks comes out, it will chip away your relevance. Soon you’ll be the old rapper.

Drake: So I don’t have to do it? That’s great. I just got this billboard done for RiRi and I don’t think–

Bey: What did you say?

Drake: I said “So I don’t have to do it? That’s great. I just got this–

Bey: You’re dating Rihanna.  Again.

Drake: Yeah. She wants to keep it on the low.

Bey: Hm.


*Beyoncé sips her wine*


Bey: And you’re happy?

Drake: Of course. Rihanna is the one that eluded me for so long.

Bey: People elude things for a reason.

Bey: Rihanna fucked my husband Aubrey.

Drake: I’m sorry to hear that.

Bey: Jay is the reason you two couldn’t be together.

Drake: Hahaha, what? Beg your pardon?

Bey: Jay Z and your beloved island trollop were fucking. She wasn’t committed to anyone because she was his Cassie. However, unlike Puffy, he was smart enough to settle down and let her be free.

Drake: Now, listen, I’m not–

Bey: Going to take it personal? Every time you see Jay and Rihanna at a party, you’ll be fine?

Drake: Yes

Bey: When they’re at the Met Gala and Jay whispers something in her ear that makes her cock her head back and laugh


*Beyoncé’s head flies back and she Eartha Kitt laughs*


Bey: And she strokes his arm, feeling his bicep as she smiles and gazes at his face.

Bey: You’ll be able to stomach that, knowing that she can sit on it whenever she wants?

Drake: Yes.

Bey: Is it just easier to give up on a woman when a man is involved? Does the musk scare you away?

Drake: What do you mean?

Bey: You complain about all of your exes being indebted to you and changing, yet you wait for her.

Bey: What makes her special?


*Beyoncé studies Drake, causing a trickle of sweat to form on his brow. He struggles to maintain eye contact and she can tell*


Bey: Do you want to protect her?

Drake: Of course. I love her.


*Beyoncé leans forward in her seat*


Bey: Protect her from what?

Drake: Everything

Bey: Chris Brown?

Drake: . . .

Bey: Is that what all this having a beard, beefing with street niggas and talking like Buju Banton is about?

Bey: You put on this whole badmon persona to get Rihanna back. Hahaha, holy shit.

Drake: You don’t know me.

Bey: You’ve made it so obvious.

Bey: You top it all off with a billboard and all you get is a “He extra” with a heart and a trophy. You’re like putty in her hands.

Drake: No, it’s not like that. We’re meant for each other.

Bey: Because she shakes her ass on your dick whenever you do a song together?

Bey: I’m sure Travis Scott felt the same way.


*Drake bites the inside of his cheek*


Drake: If you want me to turn against her because your marriage is suffering, you got me fu-

Bey: Messed

Drake:– Messed up.

Bey: I’m glad you found love in a hopeless place, but I’m giving you a chance to make a power move before she leaves you for Chris or Big Sean.

Drake: Big Sean is with Jhene.

Bey: So was Dot Da Genius, but that didn’t stop Sean, did it?

Bey:  Forcing Pineapple and Banana Girl to claim you isn’t worth it, Aubrey. We could be helping each other.

Drake: I. . . I think I’ve had enough of your help. May I ask you to leave?

Bey: You may.

Drake: Can you leave, please?

Bey: No.

Drake: Why?

Bey: Because I’d like to speak to PartyNextDoor.

Drake: What? Party isn’t– lol are you serious?

Bey: Being a troublesome side nigga is his forte and you’re acting like an entire bitch.

Drake: “Entire” seems kinda harsh

Bey: Where would I find him?

Drake: I can take you to him


*Drake and Beyonce stand up from the table on the terrace and walk into his OVO fort*


*Meanwhile, on the other end of Drake’s Calabasas home base, the Weekend walks Blue Ivy around his lavish living space*


Weeknd: And here you have the fountain. I can have whatever drink I want come out of here, but for you, its sunny delight.

Blue: Sunny Delight is nasty

Weeknd: Lol no. Maybe right now, but when you grow up and mix it with other stuff, you’ll be like “wow, I can’t even taste the other stuff”

Blue: Why would I mix it with other stuff? I don’t mix my own stuff.

Weeknd: You’re such a diva. It’s adorable.

Blue: Why are all these women on the floor?

Blue: That’s dirty.

Weeknd: They were so sleepy they couldn’t even make it to bed, so they lay where they stood.

Blue: Maybe they had a sugar crash. Mommy says if I eat too much sugar, I’ma be real tired.

Weeknd: That’s a good thing to know. Too much sugar is bad for you.

Blue: Yeah, especially with all of that sugar.

Weeknd: Wha-


*Blue’s finger points and he follows it to a table covered in small mountains of white powder*


Weeknd: Ah!


*Weeknd runs behind a couch and grabs a handivac. He begins trying to vacuum the whole table.*


Weeknd: Haha, yeah, this is too much sugar.

Blue: You’re wasting it! You should save some.


*Blue comes over to the table and grabs a big pile of “sugar”*


Blue: We need a bowl.

Weeknd: No!


*Weeknd begins vacuuming her hands when the vacuum begins sputtering and choking. He tosses the vacuum over his shoulder and begins cleaning Blue’s hands with his own*


Weeknd: Wait, I’ll be right right right back.


*Weeknd runs into a bathroom and runs back out with a wet washcloth to see Blue picking up a handful of colorful pills*


Blue: Is this candy?


*Weeknd balls up the wet rag and throws it at Blue’s hand like a big league pitcher, causing pills to fly into the air like hard confetti*


Weeknd: That is medicine. Medicine for grown-ups.

Blue: Wow, you’re mean.


*Patti Labelle sits in the passenger side of Mariah Carey’s bulletproof Range Rover as Solange and Taraji sit in the backseat. Taraji is actually knocked the fuck out.*


Patti: How did you even know where we were?

Mariah: Well, I heard that a house Aretha was in had blown up and decided to go out and celebrate. I happened to see her Mexican butler looking suspicious and decided to follow him.

Mariah: I had a feeling you were involved.

Patti: Involved like shit. I finally got that saggy bitch.

Mariah: Really? How?

Patti: I ISIS’d her dumb ass. She tried to poison me beforehand.

Mariah: Poison?

Patti: Yeah, it’s a long story but I’m tired as hell.

Mariah: I’m sure.

Solo: Where did you get this car?

Mariah: Nick gave it to me after I had the babies. I had to get the bulletproof plating myself.

Mariah: He talking bout “baby, what you need bulletproof cars for? You not  50 Cent, hahaha”. You know how he is with his 10 year old jokes.

Patti: I’m glad you dumped his ass. Ain’t nothing good about marrying no black man. Get you a white man with 5 times as much money as you, at least. Do the math before you let him propose.

Mariah: If you not on point.

Solo: Ahem.

Mariah: Are you okay, sweetie? I have lozenges.

Solo: No, I’m fine.

Mariah: Where did you and Taraji come from anyway?

Solo: We were there with my sister, the fan started spinning and then shit hit it. Could you take me to my sister’s house?

Mariah: Ha! This not Uber, baby. Y’all coming home with me, then you can do whatever you want. I have dresses to examine and turn down.

Mariah: I just saved your life and shit. I thought y’all would want to sit still and enjoy some a/c for a minute.

Taraji: *snort*

Solo: . . . I guess.


*Solo looks out the window of the Range, wondering when her day will be over*


*Meanwhile at the Carter Mansion, Kanye, Leo, Jay and the Jenner sisters stand around in the kitchen like shit not getting crazy*


Kanye: You know what, you guys should go home.

Kendall: Really?

Kylie: Finally.

Kanye: Yeah, you guys are kinda useless and there’s not much going on.

Kylie: Wow.

Kendall: I always hear that at fashion shows.

Kylie: Well, you don’t have to tell me twice.


*Kylie begins leaving*


Kendall: I had fun today. We’ll see you later!

Kanye: Cool


*Kendall gives Kanye a hug and runs off after Kylie*


Kanye: Glad that’s over. I can say bitch, now.

Jay: Yeah, great.

Leo: You need to get in contact with your wife.

Jay: No, you need to get in contact with my wife because I’m washing my hands of this. I’m done. You already got me in trouble today.

Leo: “Got you in trouble”? Dude, you’re like 45. Don’t be a Tae Bo ho.

Kanye: lmao

Jay: ahehehhehhhhhh

Jay: Fuck you.

Leo: Aw, come on. That was a good one.


*the doorbell rings to the melody of dangerously in love*


Leo: Does it do her entire catalog or

Jay: Yes


*Jay walks up to the front door and opens it to find J. Cole on his porch eating sun chips*


Cole: Ayyy, what’s up, Jay?

Jay: This not a good time, Cole.

Cole: Man, I’m sure. I figured you saw it by now.


Jay: Saw what?

Cole: The snapchat?

Jay: I don’t have that.

Cole: People just record the videos off of there and post them on the internet.

Jay: Didn’t know that.


*J. Cole looks slightly puzzled*


Leo: Dude, your wife is on snapchat doing a duet with PartyNextDoor.

Jay: What

Leo: He’s singing about– here, look.


*Leo throws his phone at Jay, which Jay catch–wait, it went in the air– okay, he–nope, it–okay he got it*


*Jay looks at the phone to see a video of Beyoncé laying her head on PND’s shoulder as he plays piano and sings a ballad*


PND: I know girls love Beyoncé

PND: I know that niggas do to

PND: And some niggas won’t admit it

PND: but I’ll admit it to you


*next snap*


PND: I know that she’s like a goddess

PND: Its like she’s heaven sent

PND: She might be wearing his chain

PND: But she be wearing my scent



Kanye: He rhymed “scent” with “sent”. That was tight.



The Lemons Part 23




So whole time I’m up to  Part 25 since Saturday so any donations will be met with Part 24 in your e-mail! Shit, donations over $10 will get you Part 25 also. I mean, that’s only if you want to read about the Weeknd vacuuming cocaine off of Blue Ivy and Joanne Prada scamming police.



Bernie: Damn, Kelly, really?

Kelly: I am not sorry. Ava says that you’ve been acting strange so we all wanted to talk to you. And Octavia Spencer and Viola Davis are her for some reason.

Bernie: They don’t know what they talking about. I’m fine.

Ava: No, nigga, you not. Come. Sit and let us heal you.

Bernie: Goan, now. I have some unfinished business and I can’t leave.

Kirk: Beg your pardon?

Viola: Boy, what kinda business you need ununfinished?

Kelly: Is she drunk?

Ava: No, she just had a lot of alcohol.

Kelly: Oh.

Kelly: Listen, we care about you, Kirk. Please sit down.

Bernie: Kelly, you don’t understand. This is a set up.

Kelly: A set up? No, this is an intervention. You’re not well, so we’re intervening.

Kirk: An intervention!?

Bernie: I dont need no damn interventions. I need some reefer and some breasts in my face. See, Snoop introduced me to that kush. Had me spin-

Kelly: Kirk, this is what we’re talking about. This isn’t you.

Viola: Oh, you have no idea.

Bernie: Don’t talk like you know me. You don’t know me, Viola.

Viola: First impressions last the longest, sweetie.

Kirk: My publicist is going to kill me, lord.

Kelly: I’m pretty sure most interventions start with us telling the afflicted how much we love and care for them.

Ava: I don’t love this nigga

Bernie: You wound me, Mother Africa

Ava: Tuh

Kelly: We want you to get better, Kirk.

Bernie: I want to get better, too, Juicy Fruit, but I want to do one thing first.

Octavia: And what’s that?


*Bernie turns around to run for the door only to fall over Lil Mama who promptly wraps her limbs around his lower body*


Lil Mama: Now!

Kelly: What in his holy name?


*Octavia gets up from the couch with a syringe in hand and quickly walks toward Bernie Mac. Ava and Viola stand up and follow from a safe distance.*


Kelly: What is going on? Is that methadone?

Octavia: What? No! You sound crazy.

Octavia: Its spiritual expulsion elixir.


*Octavia kneels down next to Kirk as Bernie claws at the ground to escape his fate*


Kirk: Thank God this is over.

Bernie: NO!


*Kirk Franklin’s back almost arches into a U shape when a sparkling black smoke flies out of his mouth and dissipates into the air*


Lil Mama: Did we . . .  Did we do it.

Octavia: Maybe. I didn’t even put the syringe in. I guess I scared him away.


Octavia: Oh, yes, Kirk Franklin was possessed by Bernie Mac’s ghost.

Kelly: Huh?

Ava: Kirk Franklin was possessed by Be-

Kelly: I meant “huh” like that doesn’t make doggone sense.

Ava: Then say that next time.

Kelly: Tuh

Ava: Tuh


*The lights in the living room flicker on and off*


Viola: Is that the electricity?

Ava: No, it’s the water

Viola: Shut up. You such a damn smart ass all the time. I tr-

Ava: Maybe you shouldn’t be drunk asking dumbass questions! We ab-


*Ava and Viola argue as the furniture begins to float in a circle around the room*


Kelly: Oh my God.


*Kelly is slowly sucked into the carousel of couches and tables, rotating in the air*


Kelly: Help me! Get me down, please!


Ava: –like  I’m supposed to be the nice one because I’m lighter and shit but that’s not how the game go and–

Octavia: Help Kelly, dummy!


*Octavia runs over to pull Kelly down but is suddenly pushed out of the way by a coffee table*


Ava: Nah, I don’t want none of that

Viola: Ditto

Lil Mama: I’ve got it!


*Lil Mama runs through the furniture tornado to grab Kelly, but it picks up speed, pulling Kelly higher into the air and out of Niaitia’s reach*


Lil Mama: Aw, man. Oof!


*Lil Mama is knocked down by an ottoman and Kelly Price begins rotating faster and faster before all of the furniture drops and Kelly is laid gently on the floor*


Ava: So the guy who rented this out on airbnb is going to be pissed.

Ava: Especially once he finds out we’re not white.

Kirk: Uuuuugh. My whole body feels like a sore throat.

Ava: Is Bernie in there?

Kirk: What. . .  Uh, hello? Bernie?

Bernie: I’m right here.


*Kelly stands up and begins adjusting her bra. Wait, no, that’s Bernie playing with her breasts. Bernie done possessed Kelly Price.*


Bernie: Awwwwwwwwwwwww sheit. I got titties, now.


*Lianne La Havas paces back and forth next to Prince’s limp body in Taylor Swift Forest. She’s visibly perturbed by the words coming from the phone pinned between her ear and shoulder*


Lianne: So you’re saying he’s not coming at all?

Madonna: What part of “He fell out of a fucking helicopter” don’t you understand?

Madonna: Also, he has a show in Sacramento.

Lianne: I have him right here and you’re telling me I have to get him out myself?

Madonna: Yes. No one else is available. We’ll send agents in trucks, but they can’t get you out of the forest without drawing suspicion.

Lianne: If I have to kill Taylor Swift, it’s all of your faults.

Madonna: That’s an even better reason to leave you there. See how easy problem-solving is?

Lianne: No.

Madonna: Fantastic. Try to keep him alive while you’re at it.

Lianne: No promises.


*Lianne hangs up and begins dragging Prince towards the cottage*


???: Going somewhere?


*Lianne looks up to see Taylor Swift standing in the path that leads to the fairy grotto*


Lianne: Well, this is awkward as shit.

Taylor: Wow, so you were never a part of my squad. You were just here for Prince.

Lianne: Taylor, I. . . Hahaha you’re right. I really don’t want anything to do with your goofy fair-skinned hoe club.

Lianne: If it wasn’t for Prince, I’d totally be home riding some French guy’s face right now.

Taylor: Your manager said we would be friends.

Lianne: My manager also works for Warner Bros.

Lianne: Look, no hard feelings, TeeTee. There are more much more important things at hand than making you look fun to be around.

Taylor: Like what?

Lianne: Seriously?


*Lianne motions at Prince’s body*


Taylor: I can’t let you take him.

Lianne: You mean “you don’t want to let me take him”. He is coming with me.



*Taylor charges at Lianne and tackles her to the ground, knocking Lianne’s phone into Prince’s leg*


*Taylor and Lianne attempt to scratch at the other’s face while simultaneously grabbing the others wrists*


*This continues for like 23 seconds*


*Taylor puts both hands around Lianne’s throat just for Lianne to knock her arms away with both hands and punch her in the face*


*Taylor falls to the side and glares at Lianne like she’s a lover that promised to never put hands on her. Lianne stands up and gets into a kickboxing stance*


Lianne: I see you don’t get punched in the face enough. I bet you still can’t believe someone just hit you.

Taylor: No, I just can’t believe you punch like a bitch lol


*Lianne smirks and launches a front kick for Taylor before Taylor pops up and grabs her foot*


*Lianne yanks her foot back and hops away, just to hop forward and throw a right hook. Taylor ducks and goes to take down Lianne. Lianne easily sprawls out and pushes her away.*


*Taylor grabs dirt in both hands and flings it at Lianne’s eyes. Lianne spins away from the dirt and hurriedly gets back to her fighting stance.*


Lianne: Wow, what a cheap bitch you are! And you got dirt on my cardigan!

Taylor: Ask me if I care.

Lianne: Do you care?

Taylor: N-


*Lianne kicks dirt and leaves towards Taylor, causing Taylor to turn for a split second. When Taylor turns back, Lianne is throwing a crisp combo at her face. Taylor covers up and tries to back away from the barrage.*


*Lianne drops and sweep kicks Taylor to the ground*


Lianne: I’m telling you, you should definitely invest in training. Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, kickboxing, something. You never know.

Taylor: Oh, go to hell.

Lianne: Not with any of your help, it seems.

Lianne: Wait, where the fuck did Prince go?


*Prince hops over the fence that he came in through as BlueTammy pulls up in his Corvette. Tammy wiggles his fingers in salutations as Prince slides across the hood and hops in the passenger*


BlueTammy: Don’t do that shit again.

BlueTammy: Have fun? That was pretty quick.

Prince: No. No, no I did not have no fun. There was no fun to be had. The fun was bad.

BlueTammy: So Lianne is working for Warner Brothers? Whoda thunk?

Prince: “Thunk” is not a word.

BlueTammy: I’m sorry, is the nigga that spells I “e-why-e” oppressing my verbiage?

Prince: Yes, you sound ignorant

BlueTammy: And you sound like I should have left you at the Spaghetti-Haired Snake’s house


*BlueTammy checks his rear view*


BlueTammy: How did Lianne even find out you were there?

Prince: Shoot, I don’t know. She must’ve saw through that silly disguise.

BlueTammy: I guess. You looked like Kris Jenner to me.

Prince: Um, thank you, Satan?

BlueTammy: Beyoncé said we couldn’t kill or gravely injure you, but she didn’t say I couldn’t drag you out of my car and stomp your legs.

Prince: Nigga, I want you to try it. On Jehovah’s name, I want to see you do it.

BlueTammy: You know what, there’s no need. You’re almost at your new secret nigga storage space.

Prince: Yeah, okay.


*BlueTammy pulls up to a large, pleasant home surrounded by several acres of land and trees*


Prince: What? When did we even get off the str-

BlueTammy: We’re here.

Prince: Okay, this your house?

BlueTammy: What? No, I’d never let you in my house, you saucy bigot.

Prince: Saucy?

BlueTammy: You’re staying with this family.


*Prince turns around to see Neil Patrick Harris smiling and waving at him. Underneath his non-waving arm is David Burtka, standing behind their son Gideon and their daughter Harper*


Prince: Nope.

BlueTammy: Get out of my car, Nelson.

Prince: Call Beyoncé on the phone right now.

BlueTammy: No. You are a little asshole. And not the good kind of little asshole.

Prince: Okay, that’s repulsive. I’m not getting out of the car until I talk to Beyoncé.


*Neil and his family are still outside of the car waving*


BlueTammy: Look, see, you on that “let me speak to the manager” shit but, you know what, I’m having some invigorating company this evening and I’ma let you waste your time real quick so you can get out of my fucking car.

Prince: . . .  You have an attitude problem.

BlueTammy: The phone ringing, bitch.

Prince: Look, I’m


*Beyoncé answers the phone as Drake shows her a youtube video explaining Simone Biles gymnastic techniques*


Beyoncé: I am here for you.

Prince: Why is this homosexual feline creature telling me to get out of his car at Neil Patrick Harris’ house?

Bey: Because that’s who you’re staying with.

Prince: Do I have to speak to them?

Bey: It would be polite.

Bey: You act like you’re going to become part of their marriage or something.

Prince: I don’t support this devilry and you won’t subjugate me in to doing such. What about my religious freedom?

Bey: You’re dead, so you have no freedom. BlueTammy will be pulling you out of his car now.

Prince: Wh-


*BlueTammy pulls Prince out of the window of his corvette like he was a cat and sets him in front of the Harris-Burtka family*


Neil: Hi, Prince. Nice to see you again! Surprisingly!

David: You have no idea how honored I am. You’re all my aunt listened to.

Prince: Hello.

Neil: We’re gonna have such a good time, oh boy. Like, just you wait until you see what we picked out of the recipe book tonight.

BlueTammy: Mmm, I’m jealous I can’t make it. Buh-bye.


*BlueTammy jumps in his Corvette and reverses all the way back to the street*


Neil: Don’t worry, we’re not going to sweat on you lol



The Lemons Part 22






*Patti Labelle, Solange Knowles and Taraji P. Henson walk through an alleyway after narrowly escaping the book store with their lives*


Patti: Woo! That got my adrenaline pumping! Feel like the Bourne Identity or some-

Solo: We almost died!

Taraji: Elon Musk gave that car to me for my birthday.

Patti: I’ll get you a new one. It’s the least I could do after getting y’all into this.

Taraji: The very least.

Patti: Don’t get snappy, now

Solo: How did he even survive? Does this mean Aretha is alive?

Patti: I know! Let’s go back and ask him.

Solo: See, this is the type of shit Beyoncé supposed to be getting into. Guns and intrigue are not my wave. I have a bald and bearded husband. I should be getting my feet rubbed and listening to Dwele right now.

Patti: I said you could leave like fihty lem times. Where is your sister anyway?

*Meanwhile, at Drake’s posh mansion, Beyoncé and Blue Ivy stand across from Drake and a portion of his OVO family*


Drake: If I had known you were coming, I would have made preparations. Made some food. Crushed some grapes.

Bey: Unnecessary. I merely came to speak with you.

Drake: On what matters? Music?

Drake: Would you like a song written by PartyNextDoor? I already have enough for the year.

Beyoncé: No.

Beyoncé: Not today.

Beyoncé: I have much more important matters at hand.


*The Weeknd suddenly walks into the room through the same door that Beyoncé and Blue came in through*


The Weeknd: Well, I’ll be. If you were looking for a collaboration, you could’ve called me directly, Queen Bey.

Bey: Hello, Abel.

Drake: Goodbye, Abel.

The Weeknd: Pardon, Aubrey. He’s upset that he tried to run off with my sauce and now he has to rely on lesser sauce since I took mine back.

Bey: Hahahahaha

Drake: Hahahahahaha

Random dark-skinned OVO guys: Hahahahaha

The Weeknd: You know I only jest, Drake. Only about the running with my wave part. You didn’t get that far before I caught up.

Drake: Okay, bye, Abel.

Beyoncé: Would you mind briefly entertaining Blue for me, Abel? I must speak with Drake about private matters.

Abel: Of course. Did you want to see my doll collection?

Blue: You have dolls? But you’re a boy.

Weeknd: Some boys do play with dolls, but men’s dolls play with them.


*Weeknd leaves the room as Blue Ivy skips behind him*


Drake: . . . I wouldn’t let him watch my kids.

Bey: Come with me


*Beyoncé walks away from Drake and his compatriots towards a patio. Drake hurriedly follows behind, eager to know why Beyoncé graced him with her presence.*


*Beyoncé photogenically sits down at a glass table with the OVO owl in the middle of it*


Drake: Allswell, can you bring us some wine? Anything made before 1991.

Allswell: Of course, sir.


*Drake sits across from her cautiously, unsure if he even has permission to sit*


Bey: So, I saw that you brought Eminem out in Detroit. A very clever move.

Drake: Thank you, Beyoncé. I just wanted to show everyone that my pull is bigger than anyone else out there.

Drake: I play it, but it’s not a game, you know? In rap, you have to be 5 steps ahead of everybody.


*Allswell places two wine flutes of Tenuta San Guido red wine in front of them*


Bey: Of course.

Drake: I mean, no offense to your husband, but I’m at the top of the food chain right now. I was actually going to see about having a big Roc-a-Fella reunion at my next New York Show. Amil, Memphis Bleek, Beanie Siegel, Freeway, Young Gunz, Teairra Mari, Peedi Peedi, Christión, DJ Clue and Hell Rell have agreed to it.

Bey: Hell Rell?

Drake: He was in the Diplomats. As far as popularity, he was between JR Writer and Un Kasa.

Bey: The one that looks like an angry slave foot?

Drake: I. . . believe so?

Bey: Indeed. You won’t be having Jay at your Roc-a-fella reunion.

Drake: Why? Is he upset with me? Is it the “I turned into Jay” line?

Bey: No, he’s not upset with you.

Bey: Not yet, at least.



*Beyoncé leans forward towards Drake*


Beyoncé: We’re going to have an affair.


*Back at the Carter Mansion, Jay Z finally comes to on a weird ass Jeff Koons couch. Kylie sits across from him, snapchatting herself holding one of Jay’s grammies. Kanye and Kendall speak in hushed tones right behind Kylie.*


Kanye: That was completely unnecessary, though. It’s art. You don’t have to explain art.

Kendall: Well, yeah, but Taylor wanted to sue. Maybe Kim just wanted to squash it before it got that far.

Kanye: She could’ve talked to me about it first. That’s not dope. It’s not fly, it’s not wavy, none of that.

Kendall: Gotta hear both sides

Kanye: Whatever. What if something went wrong? What if the paparazzi saw or something?

Kylie: You think Kim meeting with Taylor Swift would be more embarrassing than that time you walked into a stop sign?

Kanye: What? Nobody talks about that anymore.

Kylie: Its actually the video that comes on my phone when you call me.

Jay: Yooooooo

Kanye: Oh, shit. Jay, you good? Don’t move, bro.

Jay: Did Bey come back?

Kendall: No.

Jay: Great.


*The quartet of celebrities suddenly hear some thumping in the basement*


Jay: What are they doing down there?

Kanye: Who?

Jay: The Beyhive girls. That’s them, right?

Kanye: The tall crazy one and the one with locs? Nah, they left with Ryan Reynolds.



*Jay gets up from the couch and begins walking towards the basement door. Kanye follows behind him closely.*


*Jay slowly stretches his hand towards the doorknob when the door suddenly opens*


BeckyGray: What are you doing here?

Jay: Me? This is my house. What are YOU doing here?

BeckyGray: Taking care of official Beyhive business. I only answer to Beyoncé.

Jay: Look, y’all about to be banned from my house, aight?

Jay: All of that “We don’t listen to you because you’re a man” shit is getting on my nerves.

BeckyGray: Its not because you’re a man. It’s because you’re less than a man. An adulterous swine is more like it.


Kanye: There isn’t even any proof Jay cheated. It’s all heresay.

BeckyGray: Are you calling my queen a liar?

Kanye: She didn’t even say his name

BeckyGray: Don’t be a dolt. Who else gave her a ring to regret putting on?

Jay: This is dumb. I’m going in my basement.

BeckyGray: The hell if you are!


*BeckyGray takes out a tazer and attempts to taze Jay under his armpit, but he jumps backwards in time*


Jay: Wow, really!?

BeckyGray: Mind your business and I will holler at you later.


*BeckyGray slowly closes the door, analyzing everyone as it shuts*


Jay: Now what?

Leo: I’ll tell you what. Your wife fucking lied to me.

Kanye: Leo? How di-

Leo: Hey, Kanye. Haven’t seen you since the coke pa–

Kanye: AHEM Ixnay on the okecay artypay alktay

Leo: Earway illstay usingyay igpay atinlay?

Kylie: What language is this?

Kanye: Ustjay around. . .ay imKay’s isters’ay

Kylie: Is this German?

Jay: What do you mean my wife lied to you?

Leo: The French shit where they said I tried to fuck Caitlyn Jenner

Jay: Which you didn’t do

Leo: Yeah, sure, but they didn’t stop saying it. Now some French shitblog is talking about leaking my dick pics.

Jay: Maybe if you didn’t send them to people–

Leo: Do you hear yourself? “Don’t send dick pics”. What’s next?

Leo:. Don’t call black women “Nutella Foxes”? Don’t piss in the shower unless it’s already turned on?


Leo: You’re so out of touch sometimes, Sean. I worry for you.



*Meanwhile at the OVO mansion*


*Drake spits out his red wine directly onto Beyoncé, but yet not one droplet stains her body or outfit. It looked as if the wine had turned into oxygen once it realized who she was.*


Drake: I’m so sorry

Bey: Its fine

Drake: I apologize

Bey: Its fine

Drake: How is the wine?

Bey: Its fine

Bey: I want the world to assume we’re fucking.


*Drake chokes on his wine again*


Bey: What is the problem?

Drake: Well, I mean, you’re beautiful. Top 5–

Bey: Top 5?

Drake: Number 1

Bey: Do I intimidate you, Aubrey?


*Drake looks around to make sure no men are nearby*


Drake: Yes. I wouldn’t have admitted it if you didn’t ask.

Bey: That wasn’t sexy at all.

Drake: I’m s–

Bey: We’re not really going to have sex.

Drake: Oh, thank god.

Drake: In a good way. Like, I mea–

Bey: You’re going to post a picture of me on your instagram.

Drake: Okay, cool, cool.

Bey: Then, later on, we’ll be seen in public together.

Bey: If you just post a picture of me, people will think we’re collaborating. If they see us alone in public together, they’ll think there’s something more.

Drake: I see.

Bey: Then, you will do one of your little features and say something along the lines of “I got the hottest chick in the game wearing my chain”.

Drake: Oh, gosh, that’s, like, a direct subliminal


*Drake picks up a 1000 thread count cotton napkin from the table and wipes his brow*


Bey: Are you afraid of Jay?

Drake: Jay Z? No. His influence? Yes.

Bey: He will be fine. I’ll take care of it.

Drake: How?

Bey: You have reached your threshold for for questions.


Bey: Instagram?

Drake: Yes, of course.


*Drake gets up and begins trying to find a good angle to take Beyoncé’s picture. He ends up in a Spider-Man like crouching stance and snaps a pic*


Bey: Another one

Drake: Okay


*Drake gets up and leans back on the table to take another picture*


Bey: Another

Drake: lol but you didn’t see this one

Bey: I need at least 40 pictures to choose from.

Drake: Oh

Bey: At least.


*Drake continues to look for angles as Beyoncé poses effortly on the patio*


*We now find Patti, Solo and Taraji exiting the alley and trying to blend in with the crowd*


Taraji: If I don’t make it home, so help me God.

Patti: Y’all some party poopers. I never told y’all about how we escaped from the Ku Klux Klan when I was touring in Mississippi. Y’all talk about being scared now.

Patti: They chased me and my team for 3 days before one finally caught up and said they wanted me to perform at the Grand Dragon’s wedding.

Solo: What?

Patti: Yeah, they paid good money, too. I came in, got to the mic, farted and left. Then they chased us back out of Mississippi.

Taraji: Wow, bitch.

Patti: Yeah, we gotta sit down some time. I need to relax and loosen up afte–


*gunshots suddenly ring out and everybody gets down*


*Patti peeks over the car to see a familiar Hummer in farthest driving lane. Juventud hangs out the window with his handgun as people scream and flee in utmost terror.*


Patti: Is that him again?

*Patti pulls a pistol out of her purse*.

Solo: Could you not?

Patti: I can’t shoot famous people, I can’t shoot unfamous people. Who the hell can I shoot?

Solo: Nobody.

Patti: That’s dumb…


*Patti cocks her gun and blindfires over the car*


*Juventud leans back in his seat and then comes back up to–*


*A fucking baby blue and pink pearlescent Range Rover slams into Juventud’s hummer from the back, whipping his neck and causing the car to push forward*


*the window rolls down, gracing Patti, Solo and Taraji with the face of Mariah Carey*


Mariah: What’s up, losers?

Mariah: Not you, Patti

Patti: Of course, baby




*Meanwhile at Azealia Banks apartment, Azealia knocks on Frank Ocean’s door. Frank opens it slightly.*


Frank: Yes, Azealia

Azealia: So I saw Endless.

Frank: Awesome.

Azealia: When are you dropping the audio version?

Frank: I don’t know.

Azealia: But the music is out.

Frank: That’s not the album.

Azealia: What? Why?

Frank: Why do you care so much?

Azealia: I don’t. I just want to understand why you’re a bisexual liar.

Frank: Didn’t we already have this discussion about how lying is subjective?

Azealia: No, bitch, no. I’m genuinely concerned for your fans.

Frank: You should be concerned about your fans.

Frank: You still have those, right?


*Frank closes the door*

Azealia: Fuck you, Frank.

*Frank opens the door a little bit*

Frank: Not while I’m in this body, Zealia.

*Frank closes the door and continues to be annoyingly mysterious*

The Lemons Part 21





*Taylor Swift, Lianne La Havas and Selena Gomez sit across from Kim, Khloe, Kourtney and Angela Kardashian in a meeting room in Taylor’s home. Taylor figured it would be more prudent to meet face to face and squash any beef rather than have bad blood (I won’t do that no more, I promise).*


Taylor: I’m just curious, why is she here?

Kim: Who, Kourtney?

Angela: She means me lol.

Taylor: This has nothing to do with her. Or your sisters.

Kim: Everything has to do with my sisters and Angela is my sister, now. In title at least.


*Khloe grinds her teeth visibly*


Kim: Also, we were out buying baby jewelry.

Kim: You’ve tried to demonize my husband and their brother-in-law over song lyrics that you approved.

Taylor: “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex. Why? I made that bitch famous”? Those aren’t song lyrics; that’s a YouTube comment.

Kim: I can’t comprehend your anger when you and Kanye talked on the phone. That is what upset me.

Taylor: You can clearly see in your doctored video that Kanye never said the “made that bitch famous” part.

Kim: So? You’re more okay with my husband saying he wants to have sex with you than saying he made you famous?

Taylor: You’re okay with your husband saying he wants to have sex with me?

Kim: Absolutely

Selena: tsk tsk tsk

Khloe: Were you saying something?

Selena: Nope

Khloe: I thought so

Selena: Well, since we’re talking, is letting your man disrespect you something that comes with dating rappers or do you let any man do it?


*Kourtney sniggers*


Khloe: You have some nerve for someone who started dating unimportant niggas.

Taylor: Gasp!

Selena: You just said the N-word.

Khloe: Well, yeah, there aren’t any cameras around.

Taylor: Wearing a Tupac shirt and putting your ass on a black guy every day doesn’t mean you can use that word.

Khloe: My stepdaddy said I can.

Kim: This is all irrelevant. I want to know what you hoped to gain by inviting me here.

Taylor: I want us to say we’re friends and to put this narrative behind us.

Kim: Lol. Friends?

Taylor: Yes. I don’t want to have issues with Kanye, but he’s putting nude look-alikes of me in videos. There has to be a line somewhere, Kim.

Kim: Artists make their own lines. I thought you would know that after putting your exes on blast in your music so much.

Taylor: That’s not the same and you know it.

Kim: Well, it doesn’t make you look like less of a snake, Taylor.

Angela: Oh, the baby’s kicking!

Everyone: Awww!

Khloe: Oh my god!

Taylor: How far along are you?

Selena: Did you guys pick a name? My mom makes bassinets.

Taylor: This is so wonderful. Beautiful.

Kim: I have no desire to be your friend, Taylor.

Taylor: Its not my fault your husband is obsessed with me

Kim: He’s obsessed with a lot of women, okay? You aren’t special.

Taylor: But I am! I’m Taylor Swift, bitch!

*Everyone at the table stares at Taylor on various states of surprise*


Taylor: I apologize for my outburst. I meant “I am Taylor Swift, no ‘bitch'”.

Kim: I believe your point is clear. I suggest you be honest next time or things  will begin to fall apart around you. Come, sisters. The paparazzi can’t waste their lives if we aren’t present.


*Kim, Khloe, Kourtney and Angela stand up and begin to leave Taylor’s table*


Kim: And think really hard about whether you want to press charges or not. Being my father’s child has resulted in connections that you couldn’t imagine.


*Taylor sits with her arms crossed, watching the Kardashians leave her house*


Taylor: They’re gonna get their’s, you guys. I swear it.

Selena: “You guys”?

Taylor:  Huh? Where is Lianne?


*Prince cautiously walks from behind a tree as he traverses Taylor Swift Forest. Knowing white people’s affinity for the wildest animals, he proceeds as if he woke up in the serengetti. The only animal he’s come across is a brown horse with flowers braided into its hair.*


*He moves past a large tree to see a cottage tucked into a cave in front of a small pond. Brightly colored butterflies flutter over the body of water, randomly landing on small lilypads.*


Prince: I’m supposed to sleep in this? I feel like she shading me right now.


*Prince walks around the pond and to the door of the cottage. He opens the door to see a room that wouldn’t be out of place in a Lord of the Rings fanfiction*


Prince: Hello?


*With only the natural light coming through the door, Prince scans the room and realizes that there are no light bulbs*


Prince: She really put me in a cabin with no electricity. For some reason, people think Jehovah’s Witness means Amish.

Prince: Beyoncé better put me in a secret hotel or something.


*Prince finds some overly whimsical matches with multicolored heads to light the lamps and candles in the cottage. As it brightens up, Prince gains a little more appreciation for it.*


*Prince hears footsteps from the forest and blows out the closest candle. He then creeps up to a window and peeks outside.*


*After a few seconds, Lianne La Havas walks towards the small pond and crouches down*


*Prince feels the fire in his loins engulf his common sense. He bristles with passion as he watches the sunlight accentuate Lianne’s legs.*


*With little thought, Prince removes his shirt and opens the door to the cottage. Lianne looks up but does not stand from her position.*


Lianne: Hello? Is anyone in there?

Lianne: If this is a joke, you can stop. It isn’t funny.


*Prince emerges from the slight darkness of the cottage*


Prince: Hello, Lianne.

Lianne: What!?


*Lianne stands sharply and steps backwards like a startled fawn. Her heel gets caught in a stick and she stumbles onto her rear end.*


Prince: You aren’t dreaming.

Lianne: Clearly. I just hurt my ass.

Prince: I can take care of that for you.

Lianne: No, thanks.


*Leanne stands up and wipes forest debris from her bum.*


Lianne: Who are you?

Prince: I am who I look like I am.

Lianne: A short man that’s obsessed with Prince and hides out in people’s tool sheds.

Prince: A tool shed? This looks like a tool shed to you?

Lianne: What is this, then?

Prince: Its a fairy grotto.

Lianne: You’re a fairy?

Prince: I didn’t name it that. Taylor did.

Lianne: How do you know what Taylor calls it?

Prince: Because Taylor put me here. She’s letting me stay here while I fake my death.

Lianne: I still find it hard to believe that you’re THE Prince.

Prince: Well, I can show you. . .


*Prince takes a step toward Lianne and begins to reach for her hand when Lianne backhands the shit out of his hand*



Prince: Wow, you are feisty.

Lianne: Look, I came out here to get a break from Taylor and the Kardashians.

Prince: The Kardashians?

Lianne: Yes. Taylor invited Kim and her sisters over to talk about the whole Famous thing.

Prince: Indeed.

Prince: I don’t really care.

Lianne: My agent said being in Taylor’s squad would be a good look but this doesn’t seem worth it. They’re like a bunch of catty high school girls.

Prince: I could sense that from a mile away.

Lianne: I know what is worth it, though.

Prince: And what would that be?

Lianne: You.


*Leanne pulls out a gun from seemingly nowhere and shoots a tranquilizer dart into Prince’s neck*


Prince: What t– what the–

Prince: What?


*Prince’s mind falls backwards into slumber as his body falls onto the floor of the forest*


Lianne: Now how the hell am I gonna get him out of here? Bruno was supposed to contact me ages ago.


*Meanwhile, Kelly Price sits outside of In-N-Out Burger and contemplates whether or not she should have told Kirk Franklin to get her anything. Suddenly, her phone rings. Kelly answers it and puts the phone to her ear.*


Kelly: Hello?

Ava: Hey, boo! If it’s not my favorite thotspel singer.

Kelly: Ava, I wish you wouldn’t call me that.

Ava: Because it’s my fault you sing about dick more than Jesus.

Ava: Hey, have you seen, uh, Kirk around?

Kelly: Franklin? We’re at In-N-Out Burger now.

Ava: What a coincedence. Has he been acting weird?

Kelly: Outside of making passes at me, not really.

Ava: Well, he is weird, okay? It’s some shit going on with him that you wouldn’t believe.

Kelly: Oh, I’ve heard some things so I wouldn’t find it that hard to believe.

Ava: Yeah, you say that. . .

Ava: So, look, when he gets in the car, I need you to bring him to this address.

Kelly: What is this? An intervention or something?

Ava: Yes. That’s exactly what it is. Kirk is on that shit and we’re confronting him about it.

Kelly: Wow, that would explain a lot, actually.

Ava: Yes, he needs black women and Jesus.

Kelly: Oh, he’s coming to the car, now. Text me the address and I’ll bring him.

Ava: Swag.

Kelly: Hahaha. “Swag”. You funny.


*Kelly hangs up as Bernie Franklin gets into the car with two big In-N-Out bags*


Bernie: Here you go, darling. I know you didn’t want nuffin, but I went ahead and got you a little something anyway.

Kelly: Awww, thank you. You’re so thoughtful.

Bernie: Yeah, I’m full of thoughts, baby.

Kelly: Err. . .

Kirk: *Mentally facepalms*

Kelly: How are you doing, Kirk. Are things going okay?


*Kelly’s phone vibrates and she checks it at a stop sign*


Bernie: Oh, I’m feeling great, feeling good, how are you, mama. Hahaaa. How are you doing, though?

Kelly: I’m touched by the Lord. I wake up and pray every morning, then I pray every night before I go to sleep.

Bernie: Yeah, me, too.

Kelly: What do you pray for?

Bernie: Uh

Kirk: Peace and glory for God’s children

Bernie: Pizza Boli’s for all children

Kirk: You a goddamn fool.

Kelly: Lol that’s sweet

Bernie: Thank ya kindly. I just want all the little kiddies to be peaceful and not hungry. I wouldn’t wish hunger on my worst enemy.

Bernie: Except Steve Harvey

Kelly: Steve Harvey? What Steve Harvey do to you?

Bernie: Oh, I said, uh, lead godly. Lead people to the godly. Nothing is godlier than a full stomach.

Kirk: Nigga, what?

Kelly: Lol okay. You’re funny today, Kirk. You should do stand up or something.

Bernie: Oh, you think?

Kelly: Yes. Once you get things together, I don’t think it would hurt to try.

Kirk: Get things together?

Bernie: Get things together?


*Kelly pulls up and stops in front of a house on a residential street*


Kelly: Chumoan, Lee.

Bernie: Bahaha!


*Bernie and Kelly exit the car and walk towards the house*


Bernie: What’s going on in here?

Kelly: Love and understanding.

Bernie: I’m tryna get some of that love part.


*the door opens and Kelly and Bernie walk in. Soon as they come in, Ava slams the door behind them. Viola, Octavia and Lil Mama sit in the living room, Octavia with a syringe full of orange liquid.*


Octavia: Welcome back, Bernie.

Bernie: Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, shit.




*meanwhile, at Azealia Banks’ apartment, we find Azealia banging on Frank’s door*





*Frank opens the door slightly*


Frank: I’m busy

Azealia: Nigga, you been busy for 4 years!

Frank: Are you even dark enough to say nigga anymore?

Azealia: Shut up. I thought you were putting your album out this summer.

Frank: Its not ready yet.

Azealia: What does it sound like?

Frank: Like I made it.

Azealia: omg you queers are so frustrating

Frank: Talk about the pot calling the kettle black

Frank: Oh, wait

Azealia: Go fuck yourself, Jamal Lyon.

Azealia: and stop using my blueberries

Frank: Start writing your name on them.


*Frank closes the door in Azealia’s face*


Azealia: You know they not your fucking blueberries, though!

The Lemons Part 20






*Jay stands alone in Blue’s room scratching his head. Despite an open window, the idea of them leaving through it never crosses his mind*


Jay: B? Lil B?


*Jay wanders around the second floor, searching for his wife and daughter*


Jay: B? B? Lil B? Butterfinger BBs? Air B and B?


*Naomi420 and Slaybell run up the steps and into Jay Z’s bedroom*


Slaybell: Where is our queen?

Jay: You asking me like I’m the bad guy or something.

Naomi420: Wow, nigga. You forget Lemonade so easily.

Slaybell: Cishet black men are the white men of black people, I swear.

Jay: That’s quite a reach.

Slaybell: No one asked you.

Jay: Can y’all get out of my room, please?


*Slaybell and Naomi420 look at each other and then begin searching the large master bedroom for Bruno Mars, *


Jay: *sigh*


Kanye: Yo! Jay!

Jay: The f-


*Jay storms out of the bedroom and looks over the banister*


Jay: Ye?

Kanye: Jay!

Kendall: Hello, Mr. Carter.


*Kylie uses her phone, completely oblivious to the current conversation*


Jay: Where’s Prince?

Kanye: He wasn’t in the car. That old white bitch tied me, Kendall, Kylie and Wiz up and took off in Wiz’s car.

Jay: Wait, Wiz? Khalifa?

Kanye: Yeah, it’s crazy. Should I come up there or are you coming down? I don’t like people looking down on me.

Jay: Yeah, no. Me and my wife are kinda–


*Slaybell walks up to Jay-Z’s side by the railing*


Slaybell: Oh, it’s Ralph Lauren’s house slave.

Jay:–. . .  busy.

Kanye: Being Ralph Lauren’s house slave actually sounds kinda tight. I bet his servants would have the dopest outfits.

Naomi420: Embarrassing and unfortunate!

Slaybell: So misguided.

Slaybell: What brings you here?

Jay: Hey, I don’t think you put in on this house. I’ll ask the questions.

Slaybell: In Beyoncé’s absence, I am her voice. Until I forget the words to Hold Up, you will speak when spoken to.

Kanye: Wow, she has substitute pussy whippers. Beyoncé is a beast.

Naomi420: How dare you!


*Naomi420 prepares to jump from the balcony when Ryan Reynolds suddenly runs into the house*


Ryan: *huff* Okay, first off, your komodo *huff* your komodo dragons are in heat. Second, do you always leave *huff*your door unlocked.

Jay: Deadpool?

Ryan: I’m so glad that’s gonna be my nickname, now. Life is sweet.

Ryan: So, yeah, um, Bruno Mars fell on my Santa Fe from a helicopter and then ran away.

Jay: Ohhhh boy.

Ryan: Yeah, and an armed soldier fell in your backyard, I think. 2016 has just been really wild for Americans.


*Kendall walks to the kitchen and looks through the patio doors. She can see two komodo dragons gnawing on a detached arm. A WB insignia is visible through the blood and viscera.*


Kendall: I think he’s in several places in now.

Ryan: Its lit! Right? Haha.

Kanye: Yes, it’s lit.

Ryan: Kanye confirmed me.

Slaybell: Naomi, scout the perimeter of the house. White man from Just Friends, show me your vehicle.

Ryan: Really? That’s the one you use? Out of everything?


*Jay follows Slaybell down the steps to speak to Kanye as she she goes to follow Ryan Reynolds to his SUV*


Kanye: So, Bruno Mars escaped?

Jay: Yeahhhhhhh. I don’t know where Bey and Blue Ivy are.

Kylie: Blue Ivy’s gone?

Kanye: Thanks for joining us, Kylie. I’m glad your brain finally returned from Saturn to see that we’re talking about things you should be present for.

Kylie: I don’t even know what I have to do with this.

Kanye: What does anything have to do with anyone? We’re all here doing shit. We’re capable of doing other shit but we only choose certain shit to do. Some shit chooses us. This shit is choosing, Kylie.

Jay: Fam, what

Kendall: Do you think they left in the helicopter?

Jay: lol how would she get on a helicopter.

Kanye: I don’t know, but she called me and told me not to put her in my Famous video soon as I thought of it.

Jay: You were gonna put her in that Famous video?

Kanye: I mean, I thought about it. She is one of the most famous people in the world.

Jay: And I wouldn’t have approved.

Kanye: It wasn’t like she would’ve been completely nude. She’s always damn near naked on stage and that’s art. This is art, that is art.

Jay: Not in the same bed as Bill Cosby and Donald Trump, though, no.

Kendall: Ryan never said anything about it crashing though.  A helicopter crash would definitely be visible from here.


*Naomi420 comes back into the house*


Naomi420: There’s no trace of the Queen anywhere.


*Slaybell suddenly comes in through the front door*


Slaybell: The Queen has contacted me. Naomi, come with; Ryan Reynolds of The Proposal fame has the car running.

Jay: Where is she?


*Slaybell ignores the shit out of Hov and walks back out of the door with Naomi420*


*Jay follows*


Jay: So my wife tells YOU where she’s going but doesn’t try to contact me? What type of shit is that?

Slaybell: It’s the type of shit where Queen Beyoncé, Shepard of Bad Bitches, does want you to know where the fuck she is! Jesus, Shawn, go sit down somewhere!

Jay: I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking too but don’t let my business acumen fool you, ma. I’m still a Brooklyn nigga to the full-

Naomi420: What’s that supposed to mean?


*Naomi420 karate chops Jay Z in the neck and he drops like Lil Wayne’s record sales*


*Slaybell and Naomi420 walk to Ryan Reynolds Hyundai Santa Fe as Kanye, Kendall and Kylie run out to help Jay Z*


Kylie: Guys, where are the komodo dragons?

Kendall: I don’t know but let’s get Mr. Shawn back inside the house.


*Kanye hoists Jay over his shoulder and KKK take him back into the Carter mansion*


*Meanwhile, Taraji P. Henson sits on the hood of her car at a car charging station as Solo is halfway out of the passenger side, still in disbelief at her day*


*Patti Labelle drinks a Pepsi through a straw as she smiles giddily*


Patti: Wait til I tell Tina Turner about this shit. With her white husband. I’d tell your sister if she’d answer her phone.


Patti: So you just gonna be depressed? She tried to kill you, too.

Solo: For trying to protect you! I don’t understand why you two act like their isn’t enough room for two old ass, black, over-singing divas in the world! People are fine with both of you existing.

Patti: Now it’s one of us existing. Y’all don’t have to choose anyway.

Solo: Oh my god *Solo rubs the bridge of her nose*

Patti: See, that bitch is my arch nemesis, so I gotta stay a step ahead of her. I brought those white boys in as human shields so I could plant the bomb and get out. I didn’t expect y’all to be there, but I’m glad y’all are safe.

Taraji: A South American man just tried to kill me today. I think you owe us a lot of gratitude.

Patti: Of course! Y’all my down ass bitches. What y’all want? A villa?

Patti: A shared villa, of course. One of my Italian paramours died and left me one, but his mama don’t like me so I’m not taking chances.

Solo: I don’t want anything! You killed Aretha Franklin!

Patti: Stop being so goddamn, motherfucking loud!  Like the opps not all over the damn place.

Patti: We charging an electric car in public. Nobody in this area is not a snitch.

Patti: Would you be giving Aretha all this damn grief if she successfully poisoned me?

Solo: Yes, Patti. Yes, I would.

Taraji: Alright, my shit is charged. What now?

Patti: Well, y’all can take me to the hotel. My work here is done.


*Solo rolls her eyes and closes her door as Taraji gets in and starts the vehicle. Patti gets back in and rolls her windows down*


Patti: It’s almost like the air is fresher. Ima sleep so good tonight.

Patti: See, you all huffing and puffing, but you gonna learn. Your sister knows how it is.

Solo: Knows how what is, Ms. Labelle?

Patti: This. This existence. Being a  powerful black woman. Being important. People are gonna try you and you gotta set it up so that they don’t want to.

Patti: You think Oprah is prominent in media & entertainment because she talented and nice? Wrong. She kept the heads rolling.

Solo: Oprah didn’t kill anybody.

Patti: Exactly. She killed nobodies. That way they don’t have a chance to be anybody.

Taraji: You want me to be– Okay. So all you old rich hoes just crazy?

Patti: I ain’t no hoe. Don’t be talking to me like –




*The silver hummer parks on the curb near the decimated storefront. Juventud exits the passenger side of the large vehicle with a 9mm handgun and puts his back up against the wall. He inches close to the hole left by the Tesla and peeks around the corner.*


*Juventud darts around the corner and points his handgun at the driver side of the car only to find no one there. He checks the backseat only to find the same.*


*Meanwhile a helicopter flies towards the helipad a luxurious villa-esque mansion approximately 12 miles away from hers*


*The helicopter comes to a barely turbulent landing onto the large yellow H*


*Beyoncé steps off of the helicopter with Blue Ivy’s hands in hers and walks towards the open doors on the marbled patio*


Some butler type nigga: Good afternoon, Mrs. Beyoncé. If only we had more time to prepare for your arrival.

Beyoncé: It is fine. If I wanted you prepared, you would have been warned.


*The Butler leads walks into the piano room and gracefully steps across the burgundy carpet as Blue Ivy looks around in awe*


Blue: This is such a nice house, mommy. It’s almost as nice as ours is.

Bey: Hahaha, yes, baby. Almost.

Blue: Whose house is this, mommy?

Bey: A friend’s.


*Blue walks into a room with various antique chairs on marble stained concrete floors. Several men sit near the fireplace to the left of the room entrance*


*One of the men stand up and walk towards Beyoncé*


Beyoncé: Hello, Drake.

Drake: Beyoncé. This is easily the most pleasant surprise of the year.