The Lemons Part 31





*Donald Trump’s limousine pulls up in front of an academic looking building with very modern and shiny architecture. Steve Harvey can see statues of various black men ranging from Marcus Garvey to the guy that invented the phrase “where the hoes at?”.*


Steve: I didn’t know there were buildings this black in California.

Donald: This building is gray, what are you talking about?

Steve: I. . . Nothing, man. So this where the NBC meets? At a museum behind a strip mall?

Donald: Its very incognito. No one can find this place. Nobody. I had to send people, very smart people, to get Intel on this place for me.


*a mother and child with matching brown complexions walk out of the building. The young boy is holding ice cream and a balloon shaped liked Nat Turner’s head. The Nat Turner head is smiling and has a few drops of blood on its face.*


Steve: It look like they having a field trip.

Donald: No one bothers these guys, though. Trust me.

Steve:. . . So what you want me to do, Donald?

Donald: I need you to go and talk to them. Tell them they have the President’s support.

Steve: Donald, bruh, I don’t know how much your support is worth to these dudes, man. You got goddamn David Duke sending you birthday invites. You like Obama for Nazis. No disrespect.

Donald: Steve. Steve! You can’t choose who supports you. No, they choose you. I just ignore those guys, they’re very misguided. Motivated but misguided.

Steve: Uh-huh.

Donald: Look, these guys, they respect manliness. What’s manlier than doing what you want to women?

Steve: Excuse me?

Donald: I’m the president, I do what I want. You tell them that President Trump sent you and that it’s imperative. Have them agree to speak to you and treat you as my envoy.

Steve: Envoy? Like a squire? Look, man, I host Miss America. I don’t ne-

Donald: Which I owned.

Steve: Yeah, I just realized what I was saying, man.

Steve: Aight, ima go in here.

Donald: You do that. Let me get my hot tamale back to the white house for debriefing. You feel me?

Steve: Whatever you say, Donald.


*Steve Harvey gets out of the limousine as Trump’s bodyguard holds the door*


Donald: Good boy!

Steve: Wh-


*the door slams and the limo pulls off*


Steve: Man, I can’t believe this.

Bernie: (Sheeeeit, me neither) .

Steve: (Oh, shut up. Shut the hell up.)

Bernie: (How you mad at me? You the one getting in bed with all these white folks.)

Bernie: (Shoot, you sell your soul to devil, don’t be surprised when he collect due.)

Steve: (You dead! Why am I listening to you?)

Bernie: (Because I’m in your head, dummy!)


*Steve Harvey starts doing the stinky leg in pub-*




*Steve holds his leg down and looks around to see who saw him*


Bernie: (You better get some act right. I was pretty cool with being dead, so don’t make me jump off of something, nigga.)

??? : Were you just doing the stinky leg?


*Steve spins around to see Nate Parker walking towards him as the automatic doors to the NBC building*


Steve: Aw, man, Nate Parker! Ay, man, that Nat Turner movie was a good flick, man. Couldn’t believe it wasn’t at the Oscars.

Nate: Thank you, thank you. What was your favorite part?

Steve: Man, when the revolt started? Aw, dog, I damn near she’d a tear or two. They was running towards the camera and I could feel my people’s anger, man. The way you shot that scene and how–

Nate: You didn’t even see it, did you?

Steve:– Look, bro, you told Oprah she couldnt help you with being a pariah, man. I can’t be associating with you when you did what you did.

Nate: Be a black man, is that it?

Steve: What? I’m black, too, man! I’m talking about the rape.

Nate: Don’t say that.

Steve: That you raped somebody? So you didn’t do it?

Nate: I don’t think this negativity is necessary. Ive been trying to stay away from this.

Steve: Man, this what I’m talking about, man. You ju– Look, I’m trying to help y’all.

Nate: No one here wants to be on Family Feud but thanks for asking.

Steve: No, it’s about feminism, dog.


*Nate’s ears twitch and his nostrils flare as a grimace slowly forms on his face*



Steve: I heard y’all want to kill it or something, I don’t know.


*Nate relaxes*


Steve: Donald Trump wants to help. He said he wants black men to be men again.

Nate: Lord knows we need it. Fine. Follow me.


*Nate walks back through the automatic doors and into the gray building. Steve follows suit.*


Bernie: (Who this nigga?)

Steve: (Nate Parker. He made a movie about Nat Turner that got picked up from film festivals.)

Bernie: (Go head! Damn shame I ain’t live to see that, boy. I know white people was tripping)


*Nate walks Steve past the front desk where a voluptuous white woman in a blouse and pencil skirt sits. Nate gives her a friendly nod and Steve waves creepily.*


Steve: (Yeah, see, it came out that him and his friend raped some white chick)

Bernie: (and he still alive?)

Steve: (Well he was on the Penn State wrestling team)

Bernie: (They love them some sexual assault, huh)


*Nate and Steve walk through an exhibit that details the making of Crown Royal bags. Steve looked around in awe as Bernie kept talking in his brain.*


Bernie: (So you telling me a guy that allegedly raped a white girl got to make a movie about a slave uprising and people liked it?)

Steve: (Well people just found out. You know how it go: women say something happen, they won’t shut up, eventually some do-gooder tell everybody at the weakest point of your career.)

Bernie: (I don’t rape women, Steve, so I don’t know how it go. You teaching me something.)

Steve: (Oh, stop that! Stop it!)


*Nate walks through an exhibit about Serena Williams’ ass and walks up to what looks like elevator doors. He pushes his thumb into a small square next to the door and it slides open*


Nate: Please come in.


*Steve gives him a look and then proceeds through the door. He walks into a room that looks like the lobby of a country club. Dave Chappelle is sitting on a white leather sofa next to a set of double doors smoking a cigarette. The doors next to him are engraved with an image of Hannibal defeating Scipio Africanus in battle. Dave looks up and sees Steve.*


Dave: Oh, shit! It’s Mr. Hightower.

Steve: Oh, hey, Romeo. When did you start doing crack? You look bad, man.

Dave: Hey, fuck you. Not everybody running around Hollywood getting titty lifts and mustache shape ups like you.

Steve: Why you even here, David?

Dave: Its none of your business, but I’m here to meet with Brother Father.

Steve: Brother Father?

Nate: The BrotherFather.

Dave: Yeah, the Brother Father.

Steve: I guess that’s who I’m looking for, too. Donald Trump sent me.

Dave: Oh, you his butler like Forest Whittaker? Damn, you was just on TV yesterday, nigga.

Nate: Yeah, what is your relationship with Donald Trump anyway?

Steve: we worked together a few times. We basically cowor-

Dave: You were on celebrity apprentice and hosted a Miss America. That nigga is the boss of your life now.

Steve: I don’t know who you think I am, but I was doing comedy when you was in diapers.

Dave: Nigga, we blew up around the same time, what are you talking about?


*A captivating woman of some sort of mixed descent peeks out of the doors with the Hannibal carving*


The Doorwoman: The BrotherFather will see you now.

Steve:. . . All of us? I mea-

Doorwoman: The BrotherFather will see you. Now.


*the door woman goes back into the room, leaving the door open. Steve, Nate and Dave follow her.*


*They walk into a large circular room with a desk at the far end. A brown leather chair of commendable size sits behind the desk. It faces away from the door towards several large flat screen TVs. The walls are adorned with a jaw-dropping amount of photographs and paintings. Various moments in black history made up the images, varying from the tragic to the comical.*


*Steve looked to his left and saw a painting of what looked like Walt Chamberlain in a bed of women. Underneath it was a photograph of Elijah Muhammad rolling a joint. To the right of that photograph was a picture of Kanye West next to Mike Myers. Steve Harvey tried to take in as much as he could before the doorwoman spoke.*


Doorwoman: There are two celebrities and a pariah here to see you, BrotherFather.


*the Doorwoman turns her head at a 6 degree angle*


Doorwoman: Move forward, imbeciles.


Dave: Ma’am, I am Dave Chappelle.


*Nate Parker and Steve Harvey walks toward the desk. Dave looks at the Doorwoman and shakes his head before following them*


*Nate makes it to the desk before the others and places his hands on the edge*


Nate: BrotherFather.


*The chair slowly spins around, allowing Bill Cosby to scowl at the men disturbing his peace*


Steve: Huh?

Bernie: (I want out.)


*Mama T and Blue Ivy float across Tina and Richard Lawson’s pool in matching inflatable couches. Tina holds a mimosa in a wine flute and Blue Ivy holds a bottle of minute maid orange juice*


Mama T: What do you wanna name the babies?

Blue Ivy: Hmmmm. Blue and Ivy.

Mama T: If you ain’t your mama’s child.

Blue Ivy: Mama T.

Mama T: Yes, baby?

Blue Ivy: If you have your own money, why do you use all of Pop Pop Richard’s?

Mama T: Because men don’t need their money since they die faster.

Blue Ivy: They do?

Mama T: Yeah, men are dumb like little monkeys, baby. That’s why they need women to come take care of them and their money.


Mama T: Did you know boys live longer when they’re married?

Blue Ivy: Then I’m not marrying any boys, yuck.

Mama T: That’s the spirit.

Richard: Celestine! Solange is on the phone.

Mama T: But. . . But pool.

Richard: She said it’s important.

Mama T: Uuuuuuggghhh


*Mama T presses her phone screen and her inflatable couch floats towards Richard. Richard leans down and hands Tina the phone.*


Mama T: Yes, baby

Solo: Good morning to you, too, mommy.

Mama T: Yeah, that part.

Solo: Have you talked to Bey?

Mama T: You know we don’t talk on the phone. She just send me screenshots of my instagram and say I’m doing too much.

Mama T: Why you ain’t call her?

Solo: I did. She didn’t answer. I think I’m going to go back.

Mama T: Nah, but don’t. You went from “hipster coffee shop Aaliyah” to people saying you’re last album was better than your sister’s last album with a straight face. You need to focus.

Solo: I can’t focus if my sister’s dead.

Mama T: We’ll go see what she doing.

Solo: Hahaha, no, Mama. I can-

Mama T: Wow, you don’t trust me.

Blue Ivy: I don’t know, Mama T.

Mama T: Why you still here? Don’t you have virtual reality goggles?

Blue Ivy: You have the couch remote!

Solo: Ma, I’m concerned, for real.

Mama T: Yeah, yeah, we bout to do that. Gaaaahlee.

Solo: Thank you, ma. I just wanted to let you know I was worried about my sister.

Mama T: Yes, and you know I love your feelings, baby.

Solo: Lol, whatever, bye.


*Mama T ends the call and then attempts to call her oldest daughter. The line begins to ring, but then it cuts off abruptly. Mama T looks at the phone in shock.*


Mama T: Your mama on some other shit if she think she gonna hang up without even answering the damn phone. Let’s see what she up to.


*Mama T uses the remote to move her floating couch to the edge of the pool. She sticks out her toe until it touches cement and begins moving to dry land.*


Blue: Mama T. Grandm-

Mama T: I told you don’t call me that. I’m getting you, dag.


*Beyoncé’s iPhoneOne sits on a street with two bullets in it. Madonna kicks it across the pavement and into a tree knot*


Madonna: Goooooal!

Madonna: Where did you go Nubian goddess? I got some, uh, tributes for you hahhahaha.


*Madonna continues walking down a road not too far from The Harris-Burka house towards an overturned truck with dead soldiers in front of it. As she slowly moves toward the grisly scene, a hand grabs her foot. She shakes it off and lightly kicks Slaybell in the head.*


Madonna: I like you so don’t make me look at you again, okay?


*Beyoncé sits behind the overturned truck leaning against its roof. Jay makes himself into a human shelter over her head.*


Bey: I could just kill her, for real.

Jay: Not with our babies in your stomach you not.

Madonna: I can just take them out for you. Make it fair.


*Madonna jumps down and


The Lemons Part 30










*Steve Harvey sits in a dim interrogation room, sweating profusely. The walls are gray on the top half and a sickly, doo-doo green on the bottom. A one-sided mirror returns Steve Harvey’s stare as he ponders what the people on the other side plan to do to him*


*A tall black man with a small afro walks into the room. A knowing smirk distorts his 60 year old features as he watches Steve Harvey’s beady, dachshund-like eyes. He calmly takes a seat in the chair across from Steve, blocking the cold gaze of the one-sided mirror.*


Black cop: Tsk tsk tsk. Steve Harvey, you know you fucked up right?

Steve: Look, man–

Black cop: Sergeant Ross.

Steve: Whatever, man. I don’t know what the hell y’all talking about.

Steve: I don’t know who told y’all I was trying to buy NBC but that’s a lie, okay?

Sgt. Ross: Shut your Mr. Potato Head looking ass up. We shoulda known you of all people would take Bill Cosby’s place.

Steve: What? I ain’t tryna be no Bill Cosby, man. Now who is we? Are you talking about white people? You darker than me–

Sgt. Ross: Shut ya dumb ass up.

Sgt. Ross: Try to turn into the black Dr. Phil and win over white people, huh? It works and you start hosting Family Feud and now you the man?

Sgt. Ross: As a rich black man, you know trying to buy NBC is a serious offense.

Steve: I don’t want it! Keep it! What ima do with a damn TV network? I host Miss Universe and I swear that’s enough for me, fella.

Sgt. Ross: Nigga, we going through your phone records now. If we find you even talked to the mother of a cousin of a guy that’s Facebook friends with somebody that work for NBC, you gonna be the Pariah of Comedy.

Sgt. Ross: I’m talking 20 something women of various ethnicities accusing you of assault.

Steve: Come on, now

Sgt. Ross: Some of them gonna say you begged them to shit on your chest

Steve: Now, that’s foul, man. That’s foul. All that over a news network?

Sgt. Ross: I’m telling you right now: This not the tree you wanna climb, Steve. Don’t fuck with me.

Sgt. Ross: This not Booker T Washington High and I’m not Lori Beth Denberg, okay, nigga?

Sgt. Ross: Did the NBC put you up to this?

Steve: The what? The thing I’m trying to buy? Y’all confusing me.

Sgt. Ross: Monica, come in here please.

*a young Latina woman in a grey pantsuit walks in and stands next to the sergeant*


Sgt. Ross: Officer Gutierrez, we have a celebrity playing dumb. He don’t know what the NBC is.

Ofc. Guttierez: Oh, the King of Comedy doesn’t know?

Sgt. Ross: You mind jogging his memory?


*Ofc. Gutierrez walks up to Steve Harvey and slaps him so hard sweat sprays from his mustache*



Sgt. Ross: Self-defense. You tried to grab her titty.

Steve: WHAT?

Ofc. Gutierrez: I feel so violated.

Sgt. Ross: You with the National Brotherhood Coalition, ain’t you?

Steve: Listen, Officer Ross–

Sgt. Ross: Sergeant, pussy boy.

Steve: –I don’t know about no national brotherhoods illuminatis, man. I just wanna make money and have sex with big women.

Ofc. Gutierrez: Nonconsensually

Steve: Woman, are you out of your head?


*a white dude with glasses and a job interview outfit comes into the interrogation room and walks up to Sgt. Ross. He leans down and whispers something into Ross’ ear.*


Sgt. Ross: Get the fuck out of here.

Voice: Steve, grab your things. We’re outta here. These pigs are oinking at the wrong minority.


*Donald Trump walks into the interrogation room with two identical bodyguards that strongly resemble Rob Gronkowski*


Steve: Uhhhhhhhhhh

Sgt. Ross: Mr. President. . .

Trump: Say that one more time.

Sgt. Ross: Mr. President. . .

Trump: Yes, yes, delicious. Tasty. Those are tasty words, I won’t get sick of it, I’m telling you.

Trump: Steve, your president just told you to come on. What are ya doing?

Steve: Um, yeah, here I come.


*Steve stands up and comes toward Trump. Trump eyes down Officer Gutierrez.*


Trump: You. How long have you been a cop?

Ofc. Gutierrez: 3 years, Mr. President.

Trump: You wanna be head of my security. Great pay, amazing pay. The best benefits. You’ll be so healthy you won’t believe it. We’re talking premium health.

Ofc. Gutierrez: Um, wow. I–

Trump: Come with me. Come on, you’ll love it, come on.


*Trump walks out of the interrogation room with a bodyguard in front of him and a bodyguard behind him. Steve Harvey and Ofc. Gutierrez follow the trio. The police officers in the station look on in astonishment as Trump walks out with exactly what he wanted.*


*Trump’s bodyguard opens the door to a limousine as the other bodyguard gets in first. Trump and his company follow suit.*


Trump: So Steve, how are you doing? You look great. Fantastic. Your mustache is as macho as ever.

Steve: Thank you. I’m, uh, doing good, Mr. President.

Trump: Please, call me Donald. You act like we haven’t snorted coke off of the same hookers hahahaha.

Trump: Remember when the hooker shit in the other hooker’s mouth and the guy from 2 Live Crew barfed and left? Hahahaha great times, great times.

Trump: This cop here actually reminds me of one of my favorite call girls.

Trump: Officer Lopez, I’m telling you, you’re gonna love her. She’s my maid now. Stupendous rack. Amazing.


*Ofc. Guttierez chuckles uneasily*


Trump: So Steve, listen, I need you to help me reach out to the black community.

Steve: Well, uh, I don’t know how well that’s gonna go, exactly.

Steve: Black women kinda took over now with this feminism stuff so as you can see, Donald, I had to cross over.

Steve: I tried to give them advice and they turned on me, man. The fellas, they can’t do nothing. They, the women, they hold the coochie hostage, you know?

Trump: Yes, the coochie.

Steve: Yeah, man. It’s a hard time to be a black man.

Trump: See, Steve, that’s where I want to help you out. See, there’s some black guys that are strong. They want to make black men men., they want to make you guys men.

Trump: That feminism stuff is killing the American family. That’s why you and the National Brotherhoods Coalition are going to help me kill it.

Steve: What is this National Brotherhood you keep talking about?

Trump: Wait, you’re not a member? Kanye definitely thought you were.

Steve: I don’t even talk to Kanye, dog.

Trump: I need you to go the NBC and let them know that I have an extremely special mission for them.

Steve: What? To kill feminism? How they even gonna do that? Kill all the women? Y’all can’t do th-

Trump: No, they’re  going to rip it apart limb by limb.

Steve: Okaaaay.

Trump: And the first limb is Beyoncé Knowles-Carter.


*Jay-Z sits on a couch in the Harris-Burtka home between Naomi420 and Slaybell. Beyoncé is gracefully planted on Jay’s lap, listening intently to Neil Patrick Harris speak from the other couch. David Burtka holds Neil’s shoulders like a human blanket.*


Neil: And I studied Krav Maga, but Michael Jackson fights like he dances and it’s so frigging scary.

Neil: He, like did this thing where he spun in place and hit me what had to be like 13 times.

Neil: They were just going at it and it was like Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon or something. Like, do you know what Street Fighter is?

Bey: I know what Street Fighter is

David: Beyoncé knows what Street Fighter is, babe.

Neil: I heard her, Davecat.

Neil: Like, they were literally kung-fu fighting. They were fast as lightning. It was a lotta bit–

Bey: Boy, if you don’t get to the point

Neil: Yes, I can be–. . . Yes.

Neil: So the MJ clone beat us up and took Prince’s unconscious body.

Neil: None of this makes sense to me Beyoncé. We had to chloroform the kids.

David: We’re going to tell them it was a dream when they wake up.

Bey: That is. . . it works.

Neil: Can’t argue when you’re chloroformed lol

Jay: Haaa

Bey: Chairs don’t laugh


Neil: Why would Michael Jackson come back to life to take Prince away? How?

Bey: Let me worry about that, Patrick. What you guys should be worried about is what to get me for my baby shower.

Neil: ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod


David: What

Bey: I’m having twins

*Neil shrieks and David cries immediately*

Neil: Can I oh my god can I touch your stomach

Bey: Yes

*Neil touches her stomach*

Neil: Hi most important twins ever holy shit you’re Beyonce and you’re having two babies at the same time.


*Beyoncé stands up from Jay’s lap and Naomi and Slaybell follow suit. Jay stands up but Beyoncé pushes him back down without even looking at him*


Bey: Slaybell, could you stay here for the next few hours just in case Warner Bros. sends Tupac next or something?

Slaybell: Of course, most luminescent goddess.

Bey: Husband, you may stand up.


*Jay looks at her incredulously*


Bey: We’re gonna do this? Prince is kidnapped and you wanna do this?


*Jay stands up*


Bey: Husbands, am I right?

David: You’re always right.

Neil: Totally right.


*Beyoncé kisses Neil and David on the cheeks and leaves the house to return to her horse. Jay and Naomi follow suit.*


David: So, Ms. Slaybell, have you ever played You Don’t Know Jack?

Slaybell: Actually, I have

Neil: *spits out some blood* Awwwwwwwww sookie sookie now.


*Meanwhile, Prince wakes up in a pitch black room. He tries to move, but his wrists are constrained to armrests. He does the same with his ankles to no avail. Prince let’s out an annoyed sigh.*


Prince: Ya know, I thought it was kinda bizarre that “your butt is mine” was your opening line when you saw me. This is taking it over board, Michael.

Prince: My butt is mine and you can’t have it.

???: What are you going on about, Prince?

Prince: George Michael?

George: Yes, unfortunately.

Prince: I thought you for real died.

George: Nope. They tried to kill me, thought they did, I hid out at Katy Perry’s house and then they found me, yeah?

???: At least you had a chance to hide. I was pulled out of my bed.

George: Oh, and David’s here.

Prince: Bowie. So we all just kidnapped and they telling people we dead?

David Bowie: Yes, but they’ve been very hospitable.

Prince: Is anyone not hospitable to you?

David Bowie: Nancy Reagan was a bane to my presence, I tell you what


*The lights flick on, allowing the pop stars to see each other tied to metal chairs. The room they’re in is like something out of Hostel, but much cleaner. They face the only door whichever is blocked by Cameron Strang and Michael Jackson.*


Cameron: I’m glad to see you are awake, gentlemen. We put a lot of effort into getting you guys in the same room. That would cost most people millions hahahaha.

Michael: Heeheeheehee

Prince: What is this? You have a personal Michael Jackson impersonator?

George: Yes, I have to say this imagery has me quite cross.

Cameron: No, this is actually a clone. Cloning technology may not be popular anymore, but it’s improved in leaps and bounds. There are clones walking among us and you wouldn’t even know.

David: I believe you’re talking about Ariana Grande.

Prince: Paha!

Cameron: Cute. This clone is imperfect, as clones tend to be, but we’ll have the real Michael Jackson, soon.

Cameron: We’ve acquired the technology to bring back the dead, and with it, we shall rule the world.

Prince: With Michael Jackson tho

Cameron: I’m surprised you couldn’t tell he was a clone at Neil Patrick Harris’  house. The real Michael would’ve kicked your ass a lot faster.

Prince: Bring that nigga back to life right now.


*Cameron laughs as he walks toward Prince*


Cameron: See, we intend to make America great again.

George: Oh, god. You’re working for Trump.

Cameron: No, Trump is working for us, stupid. The people!

George: You’re bloody mad.

Prince: I’m bloody mad. Y’all talking like he president or something.


*the white men in the room look at Prince*


Prince: What?

David: Oh, you poor soul. Trump was inaugurated.

Prince: What.

Cameron: He’s President Trump now.

Prince: Michael Jackson, kill me.


*The Michael clone starts walking toward Prince but Cameron pushes it backwards*


Cameron: Don’t do that! We need you alive, Nelson.

Prince: Don’t call me that.

Cameron: The machine’s stability hasn’t been confirmed. This Michael Jackson clone is a failsafe in case the machine doesn’t work.

Cameron: You three, however, are going to be our living puppets. A good brainwashing should do.

Prince: 2 woke 4 that.

George: I think my brain’s clean enough.

David: So you had to fake our deaths?

Cameron: Absolutely. We needed to drain as much hope from America as possible. As you can see, people didn’t even want to leave their homes and now we have the greatest president ever.

George: I don’t really think it’s good if your guy wins because enough people didn’t vote.

Cameron: Oh, shut–Shut the fuck up, George Michael.

Prince: Wait, did you brainwash Madonna?

Cameron: Oh, no no no. She’s just fucking nuts.

Cameron: You see, with our newly stolen ReBirth machine, we will be able to bring back the greatest heroes of American Music. Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, Jimi Hendrix, James Brown and more. And they’ll all be under our control.

Prince: Why don’t you just kill us now and bring us back to life?

David: Smooth. Just. . . So smooth.

Cameron: We really tried with you and George, but you two just have to have international spy level self-preservation skills for some reason. Since we were able to keep you alive, you’ll be guinea pigs for our new brainwashing technology. And torture technology. We’re going to torture and brainwash you until you like Trump and does what he says, basically.


Cameron: As a result of aaaallll of thiiissss shiiiiit, we’re going to throw the biggest concert in the history of the world.

Cameron: Sponsored by Russia and the Trump administration! Hahahahahahahaahaha

Michael: Heeheehehehee



The Lemons Part 29






*Jay Z, Kanye and Leo sit around Jay’s kitchen table with bottles of Ace of Spades. Jay Z pops one and begins drinking it straight from the bottle.*


Leo: After what you just did to Drake, I think he’s going to go back to not beefing anymore. You flamed his ass, man.

Jay: It wasn’t personal, just business.

Kanye: I mean, you dissed him because PND sang about fucking your wife. That’s personal, fam.

Jay: And it would’ve had me looking crazy and fucked up my business.

Jay: I’m the highest echelon; the most Elite. You don’t let shit like that slide.

Kanye: I don’t know, Drake been on his shit.

Jay: More than me?

Kanye: Yes.

Leo: Absolutely.

Jay: Nobody asked you, nigga.

Kanye: Drake is at his peak right now. You’re in your decline. Numbers don’t lie.

Jay: Hahaha, wow. I’m a living legend, though.

Kanye: Being a living legend didn’t keep Ali from losing to Larry Holmes.

Leo: He’s right.

Jay: Yo, hush.

Kanye: Look, you got a family now; you rap about paintings and yachts.

Jay: Nigga, you do, too.

Kanye: But my wife didn’t make a film and album about me cheating on her. Your sauce is draining, fam. I’m being honest.

Jay: So because you’re doing hooks for Juicy J and wearing expensive thrift store clothes, you’re the hot one? You can’t tell me when I’m hot? Nigga, I put you on!

Kanye: Wow, this not even about me. I’m not beefing with anybody.

Jay: You were beefing with Cudi until you got him put in rehab.

Kanye: Hahaha what? He went in himself. He wrote a Facebook note. You saw that.

Jay: Nigga, we both know.

Leo: Know what?

Kanye: Jay, chill.

Jay: Nah, you chill, b. Come in my house and tell me I’m falling off.

Kanye: I mean rap-wise. Did you hear your verse on Keys?

Jay: Nigga, did you hear your verse on THat Part? Did you hear your verse on fucking Stretch My Hands? You talking about getting asshole bleach on your shirt, my nigga.

Kanye: I feel like you projecting, Jay.

Jay: Fuck outta here.

Leo: Guys, I hate seeing you fight, guys.

*The doorbell rings to the melody of Beautiful Nightmare*


*Jay, Kanye and Leo look at each other.*




Leo: Fine, I’ll get it. I’m outnumbered.

Jay: Outnumbered by what?

Leo: Like, guys that want me to open the door, I don’t know.


*Leo walks up to the door and opens it to find Drake standing at the door*


Drake: Leo, my guy. What are you doing here?

Leo: I’m the slave.

Drake: Hahahaha, maybe that should be your next role.

Leo: It usually is on Saturday’s at Lucy Liu’s house.

Drake: Well

Leo: Uh, come on in, I guess.


*Drake walks into the house and sees Jay and Kanye in the kitchen. Drake waves and walks towards them as Leo walks outside*


Jay: Man, what.

Drake: What’s up, fellow legends? Hahaha

Kanye: What’s good, fam? We were just talking about you.

Drake: Good things, I hope. How is Kim doing?

Kanye: She’s more modest and shit. It’s kinda embarrassing, but she’s doing good. She’s more scared of the police than I am now.

Jay: Why you in my house, Graham?

Drake: I wanted to call a truce.

Jay: A truce?

Drake: A truce. I thought it would be more mature if I spoke to you face to face. I do respect you greatly, after all.

Jay: Do you?

Drake: Yes. I don’t care what everyone says about your Pound Cake verse, I thought it was hot.

Jay: What is everyone saying?

Kanye: This is great, I’m glad y’all can squash this shit.

Jay: Not so fast.

Drake: Huh?

Jay: Why did my wife come to you?

Drake: To talk.

Jay: About?

Drake: Rihanna. She told me about. . . Some stuff.

Jay: Ah–Ohhhhhhhhh.

Drake: She doesn’t respect our relationship and she wanted to disrespect yours and I wanted no parts of it. That’s why PND did what he did. You understand people rarely say no to your wife.

Kanye: Oh, he knows. Yo, Drake can say no to your wife, why can’t you?

Jay: Fuck up.

Jay: Well, me and B just have to talk and shit. Look, the Rihanna thing is nothing personal. It was, like, eons ago. You know how it is with sidechicks.

Drake: No. I’ve never cheated.

Jay: What?

Kanye: Naaaaaah.

Drake: Don’t cheat. I wouldn’t even have a sidechick. That’s why I’m usually single. I have passing flings, like when you meet a chick while you’re on vacation.

Drake: Life is like one big vacation for me.

Drake: Wait.


*Drake starts doing a dancehall riddim on the table with his knuckles*


Drake: Turks and Caicos to Caaayman

Drake: Life is one big vacaaation

Drake: I be damned if it aaaaaint one

Drake: Tell your friends that they caaaant come

Kanye: Excellent.


*Kanye claps*


Jay: I guess.

Drake: I’ma keep that. That’s a keeper.

Jay: Okay, look, I can’t take the diss back but–

Leo: Guys, look who’s fucking here.


*Rihanna walks in behind Leo wearing a big ass baseball jersey for a Japanese baseball team and Louboutins*


Drake: Baby, hello.

Jay: How–

Leo: I was outside smoking this joint and Rihanna comes up and we’re smoking and talking about Westworld and I said “the guys would love to see you”.


*Drake walks over to Rihanna and grabs her hand, and then kisses her on the cheek like this nigga still on Degrassi and shit*


Leo: Wait, you guys fuck? Hahaha, eskimo bros!

Jay: How did you find us?

Rih: Leonardo drank some of my blood a long time ago so mi always know weh him.

Drake: Hahaha, what?

Rih: It’s a joke, boy. Di truck dem have owls pon dem.

Drake: I mean, owls are majestic.

Jay: So all of y’all get out. If my wife gets here, it’s gonna be some shit I don’t feel like dealing with. Like, y’all giving me a headache and shit.

Rih: Wah she a guh duh? Put we out? Dis uh ya home, too, Sean.

Leo: Oooooh, first name.

Jay: Don’t do that.

Rih: Mi see hur likkle video wid di guy dat write di song fi mi

Drake: PartyNextDoor

Rih: Yah, okay. I have so many hit songs and so many writers. I don’t be remembering dat shit.

Rih: She’s really upset with you, Sean. Wah she did find out?

Jay: Okay, leave. Let’s go. You niggas waaaay too comfortable in my home.

Bey: No, please stay.


*Beyoncé walks into the kitchen with Solange, Slaybell and Naomi*


Bey: You come in without permission and think you’ll leave without it?


*Ava Duvernay calls Viola Davis and puts her on speaker phone as she and Octavia head back to Octavia’s car. A small crowd stands around Cedric the Entertainer’s car, snapchatting his dead body.*


Ava: They stabbed Bernie up, fam. Like, she Michael Myers’d that nigga.

Viola: Yeah, we’re following her now. She had blood on her hands and mouth.

Ava: She bit his dick, too.

Viola: Bernie needs therapy.

Ava: Bernie needs to be dead again. Do you know where he’s going?

Viola: No idea, but he is moving his ass. I let Little Mama drive because she said she was a getaway driver before?

Lil Mama: On Grand Theft Auto. I drive for my gang on grand theft auto with Teyana Taylor.

Viola: You’re in a gang with Teyana Taylor? The sweaty dancing girl?

Ava: Well stay on him, uh, her. Himmer. We coming where you at soon as we can.

Octavia: Can I say that I’m surprised that the police haven’t gotten involved yet?

Police officer: Freeze!


*Ava and Octavia turn around to see a half-anglo/half-asian police officer pointing a gun at them*


Policeman: You’re under arrest for the murder of Cedric the Entertainer!

Ava: Nah.

Octavia: We don’t even have blood on us or anything.

Policeman: Reports say that a heavy set black woman was seen leaving the scene.

Ava: Wooooooooow, you just called us fat.

Octavia: He really did.

Policeman: What? No, no, I–

Ava: So I’m heavy set, my nigga?

Cop: No, the suspect is heavy set.

Octavia: So we aren’t suspects then?

Law officer: I mean–

Ava: Well, he’s definitely not talking about us with that bullshit.

Porky: No, I. . . No, you aren’t suspects, I apologize, ma’ams.


*The cop puts his gun down and begins walking away. He suddenly tackles a black guy in a Steelers jersey*


Police: You’re under arrest!


Ava: We gotta go.

Octavia: You can’t let him do that! You just made a documentary about private prisons.

Ava: And I can’t make any more if I’m dead or in jail, hoe, come on!

Octavia: No.


*Octavia walks over to the police officer and takes his hat as he yanks the Steelers fan’s arm behind his back.*


Policeman: What the hell do you think you’re doing?

Octavia: This man did nothing wrong. Unass him.

Steelers fan: Pause

Policeman: Look, miss, I have to take a black person to jail or my chief is going to bust my ass. Plus, this guy is a Steelers fan.

Octavia: True, but what if I had a black man for you?

Policeman: Who?

Octavia: Steve Harvey. He. . . Uh, grabbed my pussy and I didn’t like it.

Policeman: Okay?

Octavia: And he told me he was going to buy NBC.

Policeman: Oh my god


*The policeman pulls out his walkie-talkie*


Policeman: Dispatch, we need to locate Steve Harvey.

Dispatch: The Family Feud host?

Policeman: Yes. He’s. . . Trying to buy NBC.

Dispatch: Gasp!


*Meanwhile at the Harris-Burtka household, Prince sits on the floor of the living room (or the loving room, as the family calls it) with Harper and Gideon, answering questions about Jehovah and his witnesses*


Gideon: So I wouldn’t be able to celebrate my birthday?

Prince: Why? You’re just being alive.

Harper: But it’s celebrating every year that you’re alive.

Prince: Time is a man-made concept. God didn’t make it, man did. Therefore, holidays are unnecessary. The only thing that matters is that you live as Jesus did.

Gideon: So we can do Christmas, ri-

Prince: No. No made-up holidays. If you want to be Jesus’ friend, why not show him every day?

Harper: If Jesus is my friend, he should understand that I need room to be myself.

Prince: Haha, what?

Harper: It’s called self-care. Daddies said that it’s okay to be selfish with your presence sometimes. Everyone needs privacy.

Prince:  Your daddies also disrespect Jehovah, so I wouldn’t exactly take everything they say as truth.

Gideon: I think Jehovah would like our daddies if he talked to them.

Harper: Yeah, dad said “communication is key”.

Prince: Which one are you even talking about?

Neil: She’s talking about me.


*Neil Patrick Harris walks into the loving room and sits next to Prince. Prince gives him that look that your aunt gives people that she doesn’t like when they sit next to her*


Neil: Communication is the blood stream of humanity and the truth is like the white blood cell.

Prince: No, the truth is Jehovah. He is why you saying the words you say.

Neil: Of course.

Gideon: He said that we shouldn’t celebrate birthdays

Neil: Well, that’s Mr. Nelson’s belief. Some people don’t think birthday parties are necessary.

Harper: But then you don’t get birthday cakes and gifts.

Prince: Jesus and Jehovah receive them in turn, as thanks for making us. Y’all some selfish little rascals.

Gideon: I like Buddhism better.

Prince: Ha! Buddhism isn’t even a religion. It’s a little fat man telling you to love yourself. If you’re morally lazy, then yes, follow your little Chinese panda man.

Neil: I would’ve hoped that you’d be more understanding of other cultures being that you’re so well-traveled.

Prince: Being cultured doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t stand for something.

Neil: Ah.

Harper: Daddy doesn’t let us listen to some of your songs because they’re so explicit. Why do you make explicit songs if you do what Jesus says?

Prince: My songs are about the spirituality of love.

Neil: No, offense, but you made a song about a hooker pleasuring herself. I love the song, by the way.

Prince: I make songs about whatever the hell I want, Neil.

Neil: Whoa, hahaha, relax, partner.

Prince: Don’t you call me that.

Neil: Hey, we were all having a nice discussion about–


*Neil, Prince and the kids suddenly hear the front door get blasted off of its hinges and past the opening to the living room*


Neil: What the

Prince: Heck?

*Neil begins to push the kids behind him and back away as Prince slowly stands up and assesses his environment for weaponry*


*A figure slowly walks in front of the living room and turns towards the four*


Neil: Oh wow. Wowowowowowow.

Harper: That’s the guy on all of daddy’s sleep shirts.

Prince: You.


*Michael Jackson struts into the living room in peak 90s glittery military general regalia*


Michael: Your butt is mine.


Prince: C’mon, man.


*Back at Beyoncé’s house, the various A-listers stand around looking at each other as Beyoncé stare’s directly at Rihanna*


Beyoncé: I’ve had a very long day and I am tired of people I don’t want in my house being in my house.

Beyoncé: One of you has to die, unfortunately.


*Beyoncé points her katana at Rihanna. I didn’t even know she had it on her, for real.*


Bey: You’re my first choice.

Rihanna: Killing an unarmed woman? I thought you were feminist.

Bey: You also think you can sing.

Leo: Pahah-


*Beyoncé throws her katana through Leo’s shoulder*


Leo: Holy fuck! Gaaaaah! Oh my God!

Leo: That shit went through my shoulder like butter, holy fuck!

Leo: Oh, jeez if I didn’t inhale an 8 ball I’d be FREAKING OUT


*Beyoncé walks over and pulls her sword from Leo’s shoulder*


Bey: No more talking.

Leo: Yes, ma’am can I just. . . You have some tequila?


*Beyoncé turns towards the black people*


Bey: Why are you in my house, Rihanna. We have no bananas for you.

Rih: Mi come to tek mi man home. Yours can stay for the evening.


*Jay Z begins creeping backwa-*


Bey: Stop moving.


*Beyoncé takes a breath and looks toward Rihanna*


Bey: The only reason you can leave my house alive is because if you die, I will have to hear your music more often.

Rih: And cuz yuh wudda dead wid mi.


*Beyoncé looks at Rihanna like a white person that just told her she can’t dance and begins laughing heartily*


Bey: Oh my god. I’m crying in coconut. You’re hilarious, Robyn.

Bey: Ohhhh shit.

Bey: Yes, but, yes, I said you can live. There are many ways to be alive, though.


*Naomi420 spinning bird kicks towards Rihanna just for Drake to dive in front of her and get kicked in the side. He jumps up and blocks Naomi’s path.



Drake: Whoa whoa whoa! Yuh wild, gyal!


*Slaybell suddenly grabs Rihanna from behind and tries to German suplex her, just for Drake to grab Rihanna’s legs and ruin it. Naomi420 kicks Drake in the leg, causing that nigga to fall forward. Rihanna starts scratching Slaybell’s face as Naomi grabs her feet.*


Jay: Hey hey hey, come on


*Jay Z goes to defuse the situation when Beyoncé puts her sword in his path*


Bey: You was gonna help that bitch, nigga?

Jay: You not doing this to Rihanna in my house.

Bey: I am! the fuck you gonna do about it?

Leo: Hello, 911?

Leo: Yes, I got stabbed in the shoulder and some black women are attacking a less dark one.

Leo: Yes, I’m at Beyoncé’s house.

Leo: What? You can’t come? You’re the pol–


*Leo suddenly receives a katana through the voice box and looks at Beyoncé*


*Kanye screams and Jay Z looks like a cow just gave birth in his room*


Bey: don’t call the police at my house


*Beyoncé pulls the katana out and Leo drops to the floor, blood expanding from his neck. She turns around to see Naomi and Slaybell whooping Drake and Rihanna’s ass. Well, more like Slaybell and Rihanna are fighting and Naomi is whooping Drake’s ass. *


Bey: That is enough.


*Slaybell pushes Rihanna on the ground and Naomi stops punching Drake in the ribs*


Drake: What is wrong with you!?



*Rihanna stands up and wipes the blood off of her lip*


Rihanna: Mi nuh fraid of you, bitch


*Slaybell goes to confront her but Beyoncé stops her*


Bey: No, let her leave. No one will believe any of this ever happened.

Rihanna: Dis nuh ova. Not at all, hoe. I got you.

Bey: Get Chris Brown first.

Drake: This is unacceptable. I can’t believe you’re like this.

Bey: And I can’t believe you fucked Taylor Swift.

Rihanna: What

Drake: Its old. That’s old.

Rihanna: I thought it was a joke, Aubrey.

Drake: It was like 2 years ago. We were talking about Gilmore Girls in her room after a Grammys after party–

Bey: And she recorded it. She keeps it for a rainy day.

Rihanna: You really fucked Taylor Swift? Disgusting.

Bey: Right.

Drake: Can we talk about this?

Rihanna: No. Travis Scott has been really popping lately and I think i’ma follow him on instagram again.

Drake: Please.

Bey: Do this outside of my house.


*Rihanna walks backwards towards the door*


Rihanna: I’m your biggest competition and don’t you forget that.

Bey: Yawn, hoe, get out.


*Rihanna gives Beyoncé the middle fingers as she walks backwards through the front door*


Drake: You can be a real, you know, like a bitch sometimes. No offense.

Jay: Hey, watch your mouth.

Bey: You watch yours.


*Drake exits hastily as Beyoncé’s attention is drawn to her husband*


Bey: You let the woman you fucked in my house for what reason?

Jay: You made Next Door Party write a diss about me?

Bey: And? Are your feelings hurt?

Jay: Actually, yeah. You hurt me with that, b. You’re an adult.

Bey: And isn’t affairs what adults do? “Have an affair, act like an adu–”

Jay: Don’t use my lyrics against me. You’re no better than Ann Coulter, for real.

Naomi420: Oh my god

Slaybell: You cretin!

Bey: How dare you compare me to the worst white woman on Earth?

Kanye: When’s a good time to talk about how you just killed another celebrity? You know that’s forbidden.

Bey: You act like I don’t know about the Aaliyah clause. I’m why it happened.

Bey: He’ll be fine.

Jay: He’s dead.

Bey: Well, I guess now is the time to tell you about the machine.

Jay: What?

Bey: Come with me. You, too, Kanye. Slaybell, Naomi, guard this white corpse.

Slaybell & Naomi: Yas, Queen.


*Beyoncé leads Jay and Kanye down the basement steps and towards the subterranean pool*


Bey: With my unbelievably extensive influence and almost infinite investors, I got some niggas to make a device that redefines impossible.

Jay: And I didn’t know about it?

Bey: Yes. Like I didn’t know about the bitches you fucked.


*Beyoncé, Jay and Kanye walk towards the basement pool and Beyoncé stops at the edge. She begins singing a beautiful rendition of Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen and the pool suddenly separates, causing the water to drain into the split. The splitting pool opens to a set of steps as the water gathers at the bottom of the short pit. Beyoncé walks down the steps as the two men follow.*


Jay: What’s going on, B?

Bey: Life, Sean. Life is what is going on. And it will go on forever.

Kanye: Word. Like, I feel that.

Bey: Shut up.


*They walk to a door that Beyoncé opens by beating an AI at connect four. The door opens to a corridor out of an 80s science-fiction film*


Bey: Kanye, I wanted to surprise you, which was simple since I can’t stand being around you. I’ve had the world’s best scientists create a resurrection apparatus. I want to bring back your mother.

Kanye: What? No.


*Beyoncé stops and looks back at Kanye*


Bey: Excuse me?

Kanye: No. Even if you’re serious, no.

Bey: But what about the things she didn’t get to see? North’s first fashion show? Her son’s wife?

Kanye: That has nothing to do with you. People die and that’s life.

Bey: But it doesn’t have to be.


*Beyoncé touches Kanye’s shoulder, but Kanye moves her hand gently*


Kanye: You’re not even doing this for me. You’re doing it so I can be the old me. The me that wouldn’t have approached Kim. You know my mom would’ve talked me out of it.

Bey: And? That’s a good thing!

Kanye: Its not, yo! Its not!

Kanye: You’re not God! You can’t do that!

Bey: I’m the closest thing this planet has to God and I didn’t remember asking for your permission.

Kanye: You can’t do that! Jay! What the fuck, man.


*Jay shrugs his shoulders*


*Beyoncé walks towards the door at the end of the corridor and opens it to find a room with computer monitors on the walls and a pile of cords in the center that start from the ceiling*




*Beyoncé’s iPhone 14 walks into the room*


IPhone 14: You have a phone call from Neil Patrick Harris

Bey: Answer.


*the iPhone 14 begins whispering in her ear*


Bey: What? He’s fighting who?

Bey: Don’t fucking play with me, Doogie.

Bey: I’m on my way.


*Beyoncé storms out of the room past Jay Z and Kanye*


Jay: Baby, what happened?

Bey: Warner Brothers stole my machine. They brought Michael back to life.


*Bernie Mac drives down the highway using Kelly Prince’s body and vehicle. Her eyes dart between the road and the google map on her screen as they argue in her mind. *


Bernie: I’m glad you such a tart, Kelly. You made the last part of my mission easy as pie. Heheheh, pun not intended.

Kelly: Eat a dick, Bernie.

Bernie: That would make two of us hahahahaha. Steve ain’t never tell me he hit that. That man keep him some secrets, boy.

Bernie: It’s like me possessing you was fate. This is manifest destiny. You can’t be mad at destiny, nah.

Kelly: I wouldn’t call it destiny. I’d call it drunken sinning with a married man.

Bernie: Aw, baby, you ain’t the first and you won’t be the last. On the bright side, he gonna die now.

Kelly: I don’t wanna kill him.

Bernie: Well we’re gonna. Then we gonna move to Italy and be a successful lesbian.

Kelly: The hell if I am! I’m getting my body back, Bernie.


*Kelly Price’s body turns the car onto an exit that curves around and ends at an intersection*


Bernie: I can’t wait to see the look on this nigga face, ha ha!

Kelly: Bernie, you don’t have to do this. You can let this bitterness go!

Bernie: I just killed two niggas. I think I’m into deep now, girl.

Bernie: My body somewhere rotting in the ground. I ain’t got nothing to lose.

Bernie: You know not one of these niggas reached out to me? That hurts, Kelly. It hurts my heart.

Bernie: Now that I’ma ghost, I’ma put these niggas out of their misery and start my new life. Maybe I’ll get a sex change.

Kelly: No!

Bernie: Hush, we there now.


*Kelly Price turns into a driveway leading to an inconspicuous ass mansion as Viola Davis watches. She sits in the passenger seat of her Cadillac as Lil Mama trails a few hundred yards behind.*


Viola: They’re turning.

Lil Mama: Should I pull over?

Viola: Yeah, in a minute.


*Lil Mama pulls the car over a couple feet from the entrance to the property.*


Viola: Okay, now we’re going to watch some really funny vines.

Lil Mama: Uh, okay.

Viola: Just trust me.


*Viola pulls her phone out and they begin watching vine clips until they cry laughing*


Phone: Bitch, do I look like I care? Nawl!

Viola & Lil Mama: LMAOOOOO

Ava: What’s good?

Lil Mama: Whoa! How long have you been there?

Ava: Just now. I can appear anywhere that black women are having too much fun.

Lil Mama: Whaaa? How?

Ava: Black girl magic and shit. Where is Kelly?

Viola: Where is Octavia?

Ava: In her car.

Viola: You left her?

Ava: Look, this shit only work for me. Are we getting Kelly or not?

Lil Mama: She just pulled in here.

Ava: So what we waiting for? Octavia gonna be here in like 10 minutes.


*Steve Harvey closes the door to his home as Kelly Price walks in.*


Steve: I must say that I am intrigued by your presence, but I can’t say that I am surprised.

Kelly: I bet. I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d stop by.

Steve: I’m happy you did. I’m quite happy.

Kelly: Marjorie isn’t home?

Steve: Oh, no, what? Hahaha, what? Girl, you funny. You worry bout the wrong stuff.

Kelly: I was just curious.


*Kelly begins to unbutton her shirt as she walks into the living room*


Kelly: (BERNIE)

Bernie: (Calm down. I’m not gonna let him in your lil cookie jar.)


*Steve follows eagerly*


Steve: Now, Ms. Price, I hope you weren’t planning to do something untowards? I am a man of principles. I have become the black Dr. Phil.

Kelly: And you still have a dick, right?

Steve: Oh, lord, yes. Yes, I do.


*Kelly sits on the couch seductively and smiles seductively at Steve Harvey in a seductive manner that is very seductive.*


Kelly: Do you want to rub my feet?


*Kelly bites her finger*


Kelly: (Why you so good at this?)

Bernie: (You act like I never been seduced before)


Steve: You know goddamn well I wanna rub them pretty little toes.


*Steve sits on the couch immediately and begins taking off Kelly’s shoes*


*Steve takes Kelly’s right foot and begins rubbing her big toe against his mustache*


Steve: Mmm, you smell like roses.

Bernie: (Okay, this weird, I can’t do it)

Kelly: (Nah, nigga, this is what you wanted)


*Steve begins to lick up the side of Kelly’s foot*


Bernie: (Aw, shit I can feel it!)

Bernie: (Oh God, is my pussy wet? Aw, my pussy wet, lord!)

Kelly: (You can’t fathom how much I hate you right now, Bernie Mac)


*There’s a knock on the front door that Kelly Price entered through*


Steve: Who in the hell? I’ma be right back, my ice cream sundae.

Kelly: Okay teehee

Bernie: (Am I gay, Kelly?)

Kelly: (Yes)

Bernie: (Don’t play)

Kelly: (A nigga licked your foot and your pussy got wet. You gay, Bernie)

Bernie: (Oh, lord!)


*Steve Harvey answers the door to see Viola Davis and Lil Mama with Ava Duvernay and Octavia Spencer bickering behind them*


Viola: Hello, is Kelly Price here?

Steve: Yes, and of her own volition, I’ll have you know.

Viola: Can we speak to her?

Steve: Y’all bout to jump her or something? Y’all come to my house looking like some sort of Ebony magazine street gang and it makes me question the situation.

Ava: Why it’s drool on your chin?

Steve: Because I mind my damn business, Ava Duvernay.

Ava: Whatever. We coming in your house, you misogynist Diglett.

Steve: You just call me a dicklet?


*Ava pushes past Steve and the rest of the women follow*


Viola: Where is she, Steve?

Steve: We were in the living room discussing the sanctity of marriage.

Ava: Shutcha dumb ass up.

Lil Mama: Are those her shoes.

Ava: Yes. Steve over here is a foot-licker.

Steve: Wow, that is called kink-shaming, Ava.

Ava: I know what it’s called and I know some kink shit, nigga, let me tell you–

Octavia: You not telling shit. We gonna find Kelly.

Ava: Yo, why you so feisty, ma?

Octavia: Shut up.

Ava: It’s so sexy when you angry. Oooouuu.


*Octavia purses her lips and goes to search for Kelly Price*


Viola: I’ma go outside to make sure she didn’t try to get to her car.

Steve: Well thank you for ruining my afternoon. You black women always gotta ruin a black man fun. What, y’all smelled me having fun down the street?

Ava: Fuck up. You look like an Italian chef made of dog food.


*Ava walks towards the steps just to hear Steve Harvey yelp behind her. She turns around to see Kelly Price holding Steve from behind with a knife to his throat.*


Ava: Hey hey hey now, lil doggie .

Kelly: I don’t see a reason to keep this nigga alive anymore.

Steve: Kelly, you tripping! Is this about that one night? We was both drunk!

Kelly: Shut your sloppy lips. This not gonna make sense to you before you die, but I’m Bernie Mac and I’m bout to kill you.

Steve: WHAT!?


*Lil Mama suddenly jumps on Kelly Price’s back and stabs her in the neck with a syringe.*


Kelly: Gah, shit, I forgot about you!

Lil Mama: Jokes on you!


*Kelly let’s go of Steve Harvey and begins falling on her ass. She snaps backwards violently and begins convulsing.*


Steve: Aw, what the hell? Did y’all just give her a speedball?


*Lil Mama crawls over to Kelly’s side as she slowly stops shaking. Ava jogs over to Kelly’s other side*


Lil Mama: Kelly? Kelly?

Kelly: . . . I’m going to jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiilllllll!


*Kelly begins weeping as LIL Mama takes her in her arms*


Lil Mama: Hey but you’re you again!

Kelly: I won’t be the same. . .

Steve: What the hell is y’all talking bout? Can y’all leave so I can suck this woman’s toes?

Octavia: Awesome, now where’s Bernie?


*a black mist suddenly envelops Steve Harvey and is sucked in through his eyes, nose and mouth*


Ava: Ah, shit! I thought you said it killed the ghost?

Octavia: I thought it did, too!


*Steve Harvey stumbles backwards into a wall and then begins laughing*


Steve: Ohhhh, shit. I’m in his body now. This is even better! I got a dick again!


Bernie: (Nigga, shut up! Shut the fuck up!)


*Ava receives a text on her phone and looks down to see it’s from Viola. She opens it and sees “12”*


Ava: Ah, shit.

Ava: Fine. Take Steve Harvey body.

Octavia: Errr. . .

Steve: I will. My first order of business is–


*The front door of Steve Harvey’s house is suddenly kicked in and police swarm his living room*


*Kelly Price pulls her wig off and tosses it*


Police dude: Steve Harvey, you are under arrest for sexual misconduct.

Steve: What!? Naw, man, what’s going on?


*The police officer begins pulling Steve Harvey’s arms behind his back and locking the cuffs on him*


Bernie: (What did you do?)


Bernie: (Gaaaaahdamn it)


*the police officer moves his face to within an inch of Steve Harvey’s*


Police dude: You think we don’t know about you trying to buy NBC, motherfucker?

Steve: What? What, I can’t buy NBC?

Police: Not as long as you’re a black man.

Steve: This some boolshit! This is some boooolshiiiiit!


*the police officer begins hauling Steve Harvey to the squad car*


Policeman: Thanks, ladies. That guy is going to have a lot of explaining to do. If you see Kelly Price, could you let us know? She’s wanted in connection to some murders.

Kelly: Of course, officer.

Policeman: Oh, hey, mom from House of Payne! Didn’t see you there.

Kelly: Bitch, I–

Ava: Yes, we certainly will, yakub.

Policeman: uh, for swizzle.


*Marjorie Bridges-Woods storms into the house with a police officer in tow*


Marjorie: I want to know what evidence you have against my husband that he was trying to buy NBC! This is preposterous!


*Marjorie comes into the living room and sees the 4 women. She instantly notices Kelly Price without her shoes on.*


Marjorie: This nigga.


*Elsewhere, Beyoncé rides through the night on her horse Nightwillow as Jay Z holds on to her waist. Slaybell and Naomi420 follow behind in a red Ferrari. *


Jay: B, I don’t think it was cool to put Kanye out after you told him you were going to bring his mom to life.

Bey: Well, his mother was supposed to be standing next to me when I told him. Leonardo Dicaprio made me kill him and now I don’t even have the machine. This is the first time I haven’t felt in control since you fucking cheated on me.

Jay: . . .

Bey: We’re going to neutralize Michael, then we’re getting my shit back.

Jay: How long have you had this machine?

Bey: Since just now. I wouldn’t have stabbed your white friend so brazenly if I thought there would be consequences.

Jay: You can’t just kill people and bring them back to life.

Bey: Nigga, I am Beyoncé.


*Nightwillow slows down to a trot as she approaches the front of the Harris-Burtka household. Beyoncé gets off of the horse and walks towards the house*


Bey: Stay here

Jay: I’m a grown man, you not–

Bey: Tuck your masculinity in your ass and do what I say



*Slaybell pulls up next to Nightwillow. Slaybell and Naomi exit the car and follow Beyoncé*


*Beyoncé finds the door slightly ajar and cautiously pushes it open. She and her bodyguards walk through to find glass and debris strewn about the foyer*


*Beyoncé walks to the left to the left and enters the dining room where the glass table is shattered. The room looked as if a bunch of people began fighting in the middle of dinner*


???: Is someone there? Help me!


*Beyoncé goes into the kitchen to find David Burtka holding Neil Patrick Harris’ unmoving but living body*


Bey: What happened?

David: They took him. . . They took Prince. . .





The Lemons Part 28



Ay, look, Part 29 is gonna be delayed, you guys. Remember how some of y’all was like “omg you should totally write stuff that’s not about Beyonce, too”? Well, I’ve received incentive to do such and hopefully y’all will be seeing books from me soon.

The Lemons isn’t over, but things may move a little more slowly. I was planning to make the next part a season finale anyway, so look forward to a longbrief intermission before season 3. Thank y’all for all of your support. Sometimes, I’ll think nobody is reading this anymore and then a new person hits me up with their favorite part. I am grateful for the entertainment and laughter you get from my imagination.




*Aretha paces next to the table in Mariah Carey’s dining room, examining each of the women present. Mandingo lies on Mariah’s table like he purchased it himself, lazily watching Mariah*


Aretha: Come out from behind that wall, Solange. I know you there.


*Solange slowly slides around the corner, leaving no air between her back and the wall*


Aretha: I love A Seat at the Table, baby.

Solo: Thank you. . .

Aretha: Listen, you did this to yourself.

Aretha: Patti coulda been dead, but you come in with this flower hippy, love-every-bitch bullshit and now Juventud in the hospital with his brother.

Solo: I. . . I thought you had died.

Aretha: I bet.


*flashback tho*


*Aretha walks back into the house to see Mandingo sniffing at Patti’s bag. Mandingo’s nose tips the bag, causing a small gray square with a blinking light on it to fall out*




*Juventud stops favoring his leg to see what Aretha is reacting to. He grabs Aretha and leads her to the kitchen, pulling two knives from the knife holder and activating a trap door*


Aretha: Come on,  Manny!


*Mandingo looks toward Aretha and begins bounding towards her. He slides into the trap door right before Juventud jumps in with Aretha in his arms*


*the bomb explodes right before the trap door shuts tight*


*Mandingo lands on his paws in a room full of provisions before Juventud and Aretha land on his back, causing him to let out a deep yelp*



Juventud: Yes, Aretha.


*flashback over tho*


Aretha: You really thought that shit was gonna work. Mandingo can sniff out any threat. You about to find out how he can neutralize one, too.

Solo: Aretha, please.

Aretha: I’m not listening to your goofy ass no more

Patti: And what you gonna do?

Aretha: Oh-ho, you Big Dick Bee now, huh?  Mandingo.


*Mandingo stands up from th-*


Patti: Fuck your tiger!


*Patti spits on Mandingo. Oh my god.*


*Mandingo looks at Patti in disbelief like she just brought up some old shit*


Aretha: EAT HER


*Patti Labelle ducks right when Mandingo pounces after her. Patti crawls under the table as Mariah gets up and runs past Solange to the living room. Solange runs out of the dining room to the kitchen as Mandingo disrespects the furniture to get to Patti*


*Mandingo smacks off a chair leg just for Patti to grab it and smack his paw with it*


Patti: Get!




Patti: Away!




Patti: From me!




*Mandingo backs away slightly and prowls around the table.  Aretha prowls around behind him.*


Aretha: I guess I didn’t give you enough credit.

Patti: Well, growing up in the 60s, you learn to defend yourself with what you have.

Aretha: Ha, you telling me. I hit Martin with a vase once.

Patti: Luther King?

Aretha: Yeah. That boy was a ho.

Patti: Haha. I heard it was cuz he called you fat.

Aretha: I had to readjust that nigga’s cerebellum.

Patti: Girl, I–


*Mandingo attempts to paw at Patti through the table*


Patti: Ooh!

Aretha: Mandingo ain’t forget, you spotted heffa.

Solo: Manny! Mandingo! Look!


*Solange waves a big ass slab of ham from the doorway of the kitchen. Mandingo turns towards her and licks his lips*


Aretha: Mandingo, you fat bitch, pay attention!


*the tiger begins going towards the pig butt meat*


Solo: That’s right. That’s a good boy. So hungry.


*Mandingo gets close enough to sniff the ham and Solange walks backwards into the kitchen*


Aretha: This is. . . This is that bullshit.


*Patti punches Aretha in the face, causing Aretha to fall into the wall! Patti lunges at Aretha just to be greeted by an elbow to the chin!*


*Aretha grabs a picture of Mariah Carey and Da Brat off of the wall and throws it at Patti like a frisbee. Patti blocks it with her arm.*


*Aretha takes a cautious stance and begins moving sideways away from Patti. Patti runs up in Aretha’s shit and Aretha does some sort of judo foot trip and throws Patti face first into the ground*


Aretha: You must think I’m my tiger or something.


*Patti stands up and spits out a line of blood*


Patti: No, I . . . hahaha. . . I still think you a hippo.


*Aretha comes towards Patti in a boxing stance and kicks her in the shin*


Patti: Ah, bitch!


*Patti tries to throw a spinning back fist just for Aretha to catch it and throw it down pathetically*


*Aretha mushes Patti away, causing Patti to spin into a defensive stance*


Patti: Wow, you strong as shit.

Aretha: I’ve been carrying black music on my back for 50 years.


Solo: Can y’all not!


*Solange runs between them and looks at them like misbehaving children*


Aretha: What did you do to my tiger?

Solo: He’s asleep.

Aretha: You gave my baby that damn slave food and now he got the damn itis.

Aretha: What have I done to you, Solange, baby?

Aretha: Why don’t you want me to be happy? What have I done to you, personally?

Solo: You’re trying to kill! Patti Labelle! Like, stop!


*The front door is kicked in and Mary J Blige walks in and instantly begins singing*


Mary: Sistaaaas!

Mary: We gotta come togetheeeeerrrr yeahyeah

Mary: we got to do better!




Mary: Our babies need to seeeee

Mary: Martin Luther Kiiiiing’s dreeeam.

Mary: There must be peace between black women OOOOO–


Aretha: Shut up, Mary. Shut the fuck up, Mary.

Mary: Aretha, what is going on? Why are y’all fighting?

Aretha: This is information for the people that were here minding their damn business.

Mary: Mariah called me and said y’all were tripping and there was a tiger at the house.

Mary: I hate to hear y’all was fighting, and I love tigers, so I had to come by.

Mary: You would understand if I sang to you, like I did for Hilary.

Mary: Always be polite to the police. Alwaaaays be–

Aretha: Please leave.

Patti: I agree.

Mary: Not unless y’all promise not to fight no more.

Patti: Promise.

Aretha: Pinky promise.


*Aretha and Patti go to link pinkies, but Solange stops them for some reason*



Aretha: Speaking of which


*Aretha puts three fingers in her mouth and let’s out a barely audible whistle*


Patti: What the hell was that? That wasn’t even a noise.


*Mandingo yawns from the kitchen*


Patti: Nope


*Patti takes off up the steps and Solange follows*

*Mandingo struts into the living room*


Mary: Aretha.

Aretha: What?

Mary: Can I pet him?

Aretha: . . .


*Mary smiles behind her knuckles and nods her head slowly*


Aretha: Pet him.


*Mary runs over and begins stroking Mandingo’s head*


*Beyoncé suddenly walks in to see Aretha rubbing one of her temples as Mary J. Blige giggles at Mandingo*


Beyoncé: Did you kill anyone?

Mary: What? No. Not at all.

Aretha: No. Your sister wouldn’t let me.

Beyoncé:  Good. I agree with her  this time.

Aretha: Et tu, Yonce?

Beyoncé: I can’t let you kill Patti Labelle.

Aretha: You the damn one that told me to kill her!

Beyoncé: I wasn’t serious.

Aretha: You gonna give me a stroke. I’ma kill her.

Mary: I was telling her this was crazy.

Beyoncé: You will end this asinine grandma beef. Or I will let people know about Luther.

Aretha: You wouldn’t dare.

Beyoncé: Wouldn’t I?

Aretha: You the snitch among us.

Mary: What about Luther? The Idris Elba show?

Aretha: Stop petting my damn tiger.

Aretha: Beyoncé, I want you to know that you’re pushing it, baby. It’s only room for so many straws on my camel’s back before it breaks. And when it breaks, it will be bloody. Blood. All over everything. Big Bs.

Beyoncé: Are you threatening me with gang affiliations?

Aretha: Look, I’ma let everybody live. This never happened.

Beyoncé: Nobody brings up what happened to Teairra Mari.

Aretha: *snorts* Shut up. We are leaving. Come on, Manny.


*Aretha walks out of the door with her tiger.*


Aretha: Oh, Beyoncé. Tell Patti the rest of her life is gonna be like those Final Destination movies, now. I’ma pick her kids off one by one.


*Aretha walks to an Escalade limousine and opens the door for Mandingo. Aretha looks back at the house and then gets in the backseat*.


Mary: Is she serious?

Beyoncé: She better hope not.


*Solange peeks her head downstairs and sees her sister. She screams and runs down the steps, causing Beyoncé to scream and run up to her.*


Bey: Oh my God, I missed you.

Solo: I thought you were going to be back before it got dark, yo.

Bey: I tried.

Bey: Psych, no I didn’t.

Solo: I hate you.

Bey: When did Aretha get here?

Solo: Like right after we got off the phone. The tiger jumped through the fucking window and –ugh–can we go?

Mariah: Yes, get the hell out of my house.


*Mariah comes clomping down the steps*


Mariah: I want everybody out of my FUCKING HOUSE.


Solo: Do you know who Alfred Olango is? He doesn’t have a life to rui–


Bey: Okay, I need you to calm your ass down.

Mariah: Ha! This isn’t your house, Beyoncé, so you can leave, too.


*Beyoncé unravels her ponytail*


Bey: Make me.


*Mariah runs to her living room and begins throwing pictures at Beyoncé*


*I don’t even think Beyoncé realizes someone is attacking her*


*Beyoncé walks directly up to Mariah and Mariah stumbles back towards the wall*


Bey: I said make me.


*James Packer suddenly walks in and sees Mariah cowering against the wall, screaming*


James: Oh my Lord.


*James runs over to Mariah and helps her up*


James: Beyoncé, I’m so sorry. I apologize for whatever she did.

Mariah: For WHAT? Get out. I told you not to come unannounced.

James: No, let’s go. Let’s go to dinner, honey.

Mariah: I’m not leaving my own house.

*Solange comes from behind Mariah and begins L’ing her out. Mariah barely puts up a fight. This is like a Ronda Rousey match before the Holly Holm headkick.*


James: Oh, jeez


*Mariah goes to sleep with her tongue out and Solange gently lays her head on the floor*


Solo: That “go tell Deray” shit really got to me.


*Naomi420 and Slaybell come running into the living room of Mariah Carey’s house and kneels in front of Beyoncé*


Naomi420: Our Queen, Glory of the SoulMother

Slaybell: Sound Goddess

Beyoncé: I am strengthened by your love. Have either of you heard from BeckyGray?

Naomi420: No, my Queen.

Slaybell: No, Queen.

Bey: Neither have I. This is curious.

Bey: I hope that I don’t have to find her. . .


*Mariah twitches on the ground*



The Lemons Part 27










*Drake sits at the marble booth table in his kitchen, his hand supporting his chin as he zones out in thought. PND walks in and sits across from him*


PND: Nigga, I–

Drake: Don’t. Just don’t right now.

PND: Look, dude, Beyoncé told me to do it.

Drake: I know. Why couldn’t you just  say no, badman? I did.

PND: You’re Drake. You’re always saying no. You turned down Janet Jackson.

Drake: She was pregnant.

PND: All that means is you could raw her.

Drake: Wooooow, I’m not putting my naked dick near Janet’s fetus, man.

PND: Are you serious? Why wouldn’t you raw dog a legend?

PND: Not to forget, you’d be Eskimo brothers with Jermaine Dupri.

Drake: Eskimo brothers?

PND: Like, y’all share the same igloo or some shit. I don’t know. I know I’d have to feel Janet’s puss-

Drake: We have more important matters at hand. For example, Jay Z is trying to destroy us.

PND: Are you serious? He’s old, fam. Did you hear that Keys song?

Drake: Of course. Future is on it.

PND: He was hardly on beat, my nigga! How he let Nas have a better song than him on the same album?

Drake: I mean, that’s subjective

PND: No, it’s obvious. You have nothing to worry about. The only people that’s gonna feel that shit are 40 year old new york niggas that sell nickel bags


*Drake’s phone rings to the tone of “Who Do You Love” by LL Cool J. Drake answers.*


Drake: Aubrey Graham, October’s Very Own

Game: What’s up, Aubrey?


*Drake covers his phone with his hand and frowns, then puts the phone back to his ear*


Drake: Hey, man.

Game: Yo, I heard that wack ass diss Jay made about you niggas. That shit was fucking garbage.

Drake: I mean, I wouldn’t go that far–

Game: I always thought Jay was trash. I never fucked with that nigga in my life. I was always talking to Dre, Kurupt, DJ Quik, YG, Kendrick Lamar, The D.O.C., Tone Loc, Problem, E-40, Snoop, WC, Mack 10, Daz Dillinger and nem about how corny that nigga is.

Drake: I thought. . . I thought you said he was a legend?

Game: That nigga ain’t no legend. Dr. Dre is a legend. Snoop a legend. Kanye and Weezy legends. You a legend. I’m a legend. Jay ain’t no legend.


*Drake covers the phone with his hand and gives PND a quick “What is this nigga talking about” look*


Game: I was writing this new 700 bar diss about Meek and when I heard Jay try to disrespect you, I added 4 bars for him. I was trying to see if you wanted to get on it and shit.

Drake: Nah, I’m good, man. I’m kinda done with the whole Meek and Nicki thing.

Game: Done? Meek still dropping your name.

Drake: Its irrelevant. He’s irrelevant. I want no parts of this narrative anymore.

Game: I understand. You just don’t have an album coming out yet.

Drake: No–What? No. I’m not a big beef guy, mandem.

Game: But you already started, man. Now that you responded to Meek, beef is in your blood. You need it to fuel your career now.

Drake: Nah, that doesn’t make sense.

Game: Yo, Views was amazing, but it wasn’t that amazing. Me, Big Sean, DJ Khaled, Future, 2 Chainz, Yo Gotti, Young Dolph, Rita Ora (I fucked her), Miley Cyrus (I fucked her, too), G Eazy, Lil Dickie, Trinidad James, IceJJFish, the nigga that sing “let me suck your titties, baby”, the “Mmm, oh my God, why you lying” nigga, Chief Keef, Quavo, Mac Miller, Bon Iver, Jeremy Scott, Bonecrusher, TI, the nigga that voice Chip Skylark, the nigga that voice Steve on American Dad and the Progressive Insurance lady were at the same party and were talking about how Views is nowhere near your best shit.

Drake: Why do I doubt that this happened?

Game: The way you absolutely obliterated Meek got the people going, on some “Niggas in Paris” shit. They want to see more of the Drake that smelled blood. Take it from a Blood.

Drake: I’m not that Drake, though. The Meek thing was personal. I just want to make good music.

Game: *Chuckles* Okay, nigga. We’ll see how that goes for you. Ay, but what’s up with a joint album?

Drake: Kssssh aw shit, I’m losing service kssssh

Game: Can you hear me? I was thinking we could call it “TOo LAte” and have, like the TO capitalized for Toronto and th-

Drake: Kssssh Brrrriiing aw shit, I got a call on the other line

Game: What

Drake: Shit, it’s Dr. Dre.

Game: Oh my God. My bad. Tell him Jayceon said wassup. I’ll holla.

Drake: Yes, holla.


*Drake puts his phone face down on the table*


Drake: I was gonna take one vacation. My first vacation  in 3 years.

PND: No rest for the wicked.

Drake: True ting dem.

PND: :/


*Meanwhile, Cedric the Entertainer peruses the scented candle section in Target. Unbeknownst to him, Bernie Mac is watching his every move through Kelly Price’s eyes as she walks towards him.*


Kelly: Why are you doing this?

Bernie: Because these niggas got to stay alive when I should’ve been enjoying all of the shit they got plus more. Steve Harvey out here profiting offa relationship advice when he a goddamn hoe.

Bernie: He pay women to lick his nipples. He ain’t normal. He abnormal.

Bernie: And Cedric out here profiting off of being funny when he not. DL had to go first, though. Nobody would notice if he went missing.

Kelly: This is crazy. You’re going to get me put in jail for the rest of my life!

Bernie: Ain’t like you been doing shit.

Kelly: I wish I could go into another body and beat yo ass.

Bernie: You can go into another body and eat my pussy, how about that?


Cedric: Oh, shit, what’s good, Kelly? You looking for some candles? This honey peach apricot is fire.

Bernie: Hello, Cedric! Funny seeing you here.

Cedric: Aw, sookie sookie, you lost some weight, girl?

Kelly: He know goddamn well I didn’t lose weight.

Bernie: Nigga, you know I ain’t lose no damn weight.

Kelly: (No, don’t say it!)

Bernie: I threw that weight away, hahahah. It ain’t lost, I know where it is. Hahahah.

Cedric: Girl, you crazy. You see my new Netflix special?

Bernie: (You watch his special?)

Kelly: (Hell naw)

Bernie: Nah, I ain’t get to watch it yet.

Cedric: Not like you busy, hahahah.

Bernie: Not as busy as you are begging Hollywood white people to give you scraps hahahahaha

Cedric: Ay, watch it now. Don’t talk to the second most relevant King of Comedy like that.

Bernie: You know what, you right. Let me suck ya dick, I always wanted to suck ya dick.


Cedric: Oh, shit, girl, baby girl, chill, I mean, stop, I’m taken

Cedric: With the idea of putting my dick in your mouth, let’s do it

Bernie: Ooooh *giggle*

Bernie: (I’ma stab that nigga in his throat like 34 times)

Kelly: (37)


*Cedric the Entertainer and Kelly Price hurry out of the Target and go around the corner just as Ava Duvernay and Octavia Spencer walk in*


Octavia: We found her car, but how the hell we supposed to find her in here?

Ava: Shit, ask people, I guess?


*Ava walks up to a random white guy and pats him on the shoulder*


Ava: Did you just see Steve Harvey or Cedric the Entertainer in here?

RWG: Uh, I guess? Is that him over there?


*Ava looks over to see the dude that voices Uncle Ruckus looking at Transformers shirts*


Ava: Nigga, that’s Gary Anthony Williams.

RWD: Who?

Ava: Nevermind. I guess all black people look the same to you.

RWD: Are you calling me racist? Like all white people don’t look the same to you?

Ava: I mean kinda.

RWD: You probably wouldn’t know, I don’t know, John Goodman if he walked past you.

Ava: The dude from O Brother Where Art Thou? I’m pretty sure I’d know him.

RWD: I’m John Goodman.

Ava: I knew that. Come on, now.

John Goodman: I’m not John Goodman. I just lied to you.

Ava: Oh.

RWD: Tsk, good luck finding Cedric the Entertainer.

Ava: Thank you, yakub.


*Ava strolls back over to Octavia*


Ava: That didn’t work at all.

Octavia: That really was John Goodman. He was fucking with you.

Ava: Are you fucking with me?


Random Italian guy: Oh, shit is that John Goodman? Dude, you were the best in 10 Cloverfield Lane.

John Goodman: No I wasn’t.


Ava: Ah.

Octavia: Smooth moves, Ex-Lax.

Ava: Suck ya mudda


*Ava and Octavia suddenly hear screams from the parking lot. They run back outside to see people pointing and screaming at something around the corner. They go around the corner and follow a trail of curious customers to see a Porsche Carrera with blood pouring out of the drivers seat*


*Ava and Octavia walk over and look into the window to see Cedric the Entertainer with a pen in one eye, car keys in the other and, like, 58 puncture wounds in his chest. And his dick out.*


Ava: Guess he got caught

*Ava looks around the parking lot before walking up to an old black dude wearing shades. She snatches his shades off and jogs back over to Octavia*

*Ava puts the shades on *

Ava: With his pants down.


*Meanwhile, in a dark room in a mysterious lair somewhere, Becky Gray stands in a room with only one half lit, looking into the darkness.*


BeckyGray: I couldn’t believe it was so easy. I told that rapping idiot that I was taking care of “Beyoncé business” and he left me right alone. It’s like telling people Beyoncé told you to do it is like a get out of jail free card.

Mystery Guy: Indeed. It was hidden quite well, but rumors began to move around different circles.

Mystery Guy: Acquiring Beyoncé’s resurrection apparatus could mean so much for our endeavors. What could she have needed it for?

BeckyGray: Who knows? She could bring her favorite family members back to life, I guess?

BeckyGray: I mean, shit, I can’t believe she can even get her hands on the technology necessary for this type of shit.

Mystery Guy: Beyoncé is becoming too strong. She’s gained support and resources that rival even the most beloved kings of old.

Mystery Guy: She has to be knocked down to size. What kind of world do we live in where a black woman has this kind of power?

BeckyGray: A . . . diverse one?

Mystery Guy: A crazy one. A world gone mad. That will change once Trump is in office, though.

BeckyGray: Beg pardon?


*Mystery Guy walks out of the shadows, revealing himself to be Cameron Strang, president of Warner Bros. Music*


Cameron: Don’t worry about that. What we need to worry about is our original plan for our machine.

Cameron: Becky, go to the lab and let them know to prepare to examine the apparatus. I want it tested and up and running as soon as possible.

Cameron: And then we’re getting Prince.



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.