The Lemons Part 33

I apologize for my erratic posting schedule, but I’m not gonna lie to you: I was abducted by aliens. Which is code for “I am a problematic procrastinator”. However, from this point forth, I will be posting the Lemons every two weeks. So Wednesday, July 5th, is when the next Lemons will be up. It never said Monday, July 1st. That wasn’t even a real date.

Praise be to the most high for the successful delivery of healthy twin babies that made finishing this chapter way easier.






Bernie: (Bill Cosby running a cult?)

Steve: (You couldn’t tell?)

Steve: So, um, are you like the brother of fathers or the father of brothers because I’m confused over here.

Bill Brotherfather: I am he who is him. I am the father and the brother. The grandfather and the forefather. I am strength in numbers though that number is one.


*Bill Cosby slowly pushes himself up from his chair, snatches the cane by his desk and begins walking around it towards Steve Harvey*


Dave: Bill, look–

Bill: Hush. I will get to you.

Bill: Steve. I hear you’re trying to buy NBC.

Steve: That’s a bold-faced lie, Bill Cosby. I don’t want no damn TV network.

Bill: But you might as well, the way you hosting all these shows. If you have no interest in it, then why are you here?

Steve: Well, see, Donald Trump sent me–

Bill: Donald Trump!? You some sort of Uncle Tom errand boy? I knew that Family Feud gig was fishy.

Steve: Actually, Drew Carey put me down wit-

Dave: Aw, man, you took the dick money.

Steve: The what-now?

Dave: No black man gets this far without taking the dick money. They show you a mountain of cash, say it’s yours, put their dick in it and tell you to get it.

Dave: How you think Kevin Hart got 8 movies out at the same time? His money got dick skin cells on it. That’s how.

Dave: Chocolate droppa my ass. Chocolate floppa dick in his mouth.

Bill: Stop all this homosexual jibber-jabber.

Bill: So what does Donald Trump want from the National Brotherhood Coalition exactly?

Steve: I don’t know, dismantling feminism or wha-

Bill: Dismantling feminism, eh?



*Bill Cosby coughs into his left hand*


Bill: And then what? Dismantling the black man? What do we get out of this?


*Steve leans back on the Brotherfather’s desk. Nate Parker raises an eyebrow.*


Steve: Trump wants to help the black community and he wants men to be men again. You put 2 and 2 together, and he’s helping the black male community be men again. Now, fellas: What is empowering black women more than ever right now?

Nate: False rape accusations

Bill: What Nate said.

Dave: Beyoncé.


*Steve points at Dave Chappelle*


Steve: This man gets it. Beyoncé Knowles.

Bill: Hm.

Nate: Dave is right.

Dave: Look, every time she puts out a song, suddenly every woman powerful. She telling girls they run the world and that niggas gotta put a ring on it. Fuck all that.

Dave: It Beyoncé keeps putting out “Don’t Fuck Your Man” theme songs, humanity will be facing extinction. I don’t wanna be extinct, nigga!

Dave: I say give Trump a chance again.

Nate: But you just took it back.

Dave: That was for white people. They really don’t fuck with that nigga right now and I kinda like making money again, Nat Turner.

Bill: So what does the President want us to do?


*Steve does a birdman hand rub and smiles while looking at the group of iconic black men and Nate Parker*


Steve: . . . I don’t know, man. I’m lost.


*Madonna jumps down from the overturned truck just to catch an uppercut from Jiggaman. She falls backwards, hitting her elbow on the driver side tire. Beyoncé walks up behind Jay-Z and peeks around his shoulder.*


Madonna: Wow, I thought you would hit like a man. Now, Sean Penn. Tha-

Jay: If you come near my family, I’ma do that shit again, don’t fuck with me.


*Madonna rolls on to her stomach, pushes herself up on all fours and slowly tries to plant her right foot.*


Madonna: When I turn around, you’re so fucked.


*Beyoncé’s iPhone Napalm tesseracts to her ear*


Bey: Hello?

Solo: What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?


*Jay cautiously walks over to Madonna just to flinch backwards when a gunshot goes off. Madonna falls to her side and groans like that lady that was squashing grapes with her feet and fell out the bucket. Like, she was like “oou, oou, oou” like a seal*


BeckyWithTheGrayHair: Stop making that noise or I’ll shoot you again.

Jay: Yo, did you murder Madonna?

Becky: That bullet was so rubber. I’m not going to kill someone in front of our queen while she’s pregnant. Are you nuts?


*Becky runs over to Beyoncé’s side and prostrates before her*


Becky: Please forgive me. I’m a horrible double agent, I am.

Bey: Yeah, you are.

Becky: This is all my fault.

Bey: Most of it, yeah.

Becky: I love you so much, you are glowing. You are more perfect every day.

Bey: Thank you. Now pick your gun back up.

Becky: Yes, gracious Goddess of Progress.


*Becky grabs her weapon and immediately points it at Madonna again. She sees Madonna’s foot slide around the corner and snickers.*


Becky: And where do you think you’re going?


*Becky leans against the bottom of the truck’s front bumper and then turns the corner to see Slaybell stabbing the shit out of Madonna*


Slaybell: And you thought!


Slaybell: You would crawl in my direction!


Slaybell: And LIVE!?






Becky: Slaybell.




Becky: Slaybell.




Becky: You big, tall, pleather body suit, butt surgery bitch.


*Slaybell darts her head up*


Slaybell: Aaaand how long were you holding that in?

Becky: Since I met you, now stop stabbing her.


*Slaybell looks down at Madonna’s frequently impaled corpse. Madonna’s hands are down her pants.*


Slaybell: I don’t remember doing this.

Jay: Aw, man, what.


*Jay and Bey come around the corner to survey the carnage*


Bey: lol oh shit. They killed Madonna, baby.

Jay: I. . . Yeah. . .

Slaybell: I apologize. I lost control.

Bey: Nah, this is flame emojis.

Jay: So we just gonna leave her here in the open near Neil Patrick Harris’ house?

Becky: Way ahead of you.


*Beckywiththegrayhair begins dragging Madonna’s body on to a puddle of gasoline and pulls out a zippo lighter.*


Becky: My Matriarch and Friend, you must move.

Bey: No, I wanna see.


*Jay and Slaybell grab Beyoncé under her left and right arms respectively and lift her away from Becky and Madonna’s body*


Becky: That should be far enough.


*Becky flicks her zipp one last time and drops it on the edge of the puddle. The gasoline lights before Becky even starts running. Becky reaches the others by the time it engulfs Madonna’s super old body*


Becky: I was *gasp* figuring *deep inhale* It would blow up-




Bey: Slaybell, I’d like to keep that.

Slaybell: Yes, Creator of Dance Choreography.


*Slaybell jogs off towards the head*


Jay: Where are we going to put that?

Bey: The same place I put Aaliyah’s.

Jay: . . .

Jay: I’m ready to go like a motherfucker.


*A blue Corvette screeches to a stop behind Beyoncé and company. Naomi420 hops out of the passenger side*


Naomi420: Queen Lord, please take my seat.

Jay: So you just gonna leave me?

Bey: Yes, nigga, I’m in labor.

Jay: Wait, what? Wait.

Jay: What!?

Bey: It started when I was fighting Madonna, before Slaybell roundhouse kicked her.

Bey: If I would’ve said something, she would’ve gone easy on me.

Jay: But she knew you were pregnant.

Bey: If you had a uterus, you would understand.

Jay: No. I understand that you fucking wild.


*Beyoncé walks over to the door and looks inside to see BlueTammy at the driver seat*


BlueTammy: Get in, not-loser. We’re going. . . Babying?

Bey: Anywhere but here. I need a break from these dummies before we plan how to find Prince.

Bey: Not you, Slaybell.

Bey: Not you, Naomi.

Bey: Not you, Becky.

Bey: Not you, corpses.


*Jay-Z raises his hands and looks towards the sky as if he was frozen in time while asking god “Why?”*


Bey: You’re the dummy.

Jay: I used context clues.

Bey: Because you’re my smart baby!


*Beyoncé blows Jay a kiss before closing the car door. BlueTammy gives everyone a kinda sorta wave and pulls off into the night*


Jay: So, are y’all guarding me or something?

Becky: There’s not enough room in Tammy’s car, obviously. I just called us an Uber.

Jay: Okay, cool.

Becky:. . . Are you gonna call yours?


*Jay looks simultaneously amused and offended*


Jay: Wooooooooow


*An all white Mercedes-Benz SSS- class pulls up, running over a Warner Bros. mercenary in the process. The car parks and out comes Tina Knowles-Lawson. Blue Ivy gets out of the back seat and closes the door.*


Mama T: Where my daughter at before I start spin kicking niggas?


*Slaybell kneels before Beyoncé’s creator*


Slaybell: She has gone into labor, Mother Bee. Tammy is taking her to the proper medical facilities.

Mama T: OH. OH !


*Mama T gets back in the driver seat of the Benz*


Mama T: Are y’all coming? Blue gonna have to sit on somebody lap. Preferably somebody without blood on their clothes.

Jay: I call shotgun.

Slaybell: Beg fucking pardon?

Becky: Wow, how dare you?

Naomi420: No, wait, guys. He’s the reason Beyoncé has babies right now.

Slaybell: . . . Whatever. The princess sits in your lap, though.

Naomi420: Fine.


*Naomi picks up Blue Ivy, whom was wrist deep in a dead soldier’s pocket, and hops in the back of the car. The others follow suit, with Jay getting shotgun.*


Naomi420: Hey, what you got there, girl?

Blue Ivy: A fidget spinner!


*Blue Ivy begins spinning a shuriken on her finger*


Blue Ivy: This is like the one’s ninjas have. Everybody’s going to be super jealous.


*Naomi stops the shuriken and takes it off her finger*


Naomi420: Uh, let’s show this to your mom first.

Blue Ivy: No.


Becky: So do we know which hospital she’ll be at.

Jay: Oh, we shut down the whole floor of the UCLA medical center. Light work.

Becky: I had one of my daughters in a kiddie pool in the basement of a 7-11.

Becky: Me and my husband were ducking the federal government at the time.

Becky: the Reagan Era was something else.

Jay: . . . 7-11s have basements?


*Mama T drives past a police barricade and to the front of the UCLA medical center, just to see Beyoncé holding two bundles between two women wearing Iron Man type mech suits*


*Jay Z jumps out of the car before it stops moving and runs towards Beyoncé*



Jay: Nah, what.

Beyoncé: You took long enough. Come. Look at our babies.

Jay: But it was like five minutes-

Beyoncé: Oh, that’s right, you weren’t here when I teleported into a helicopter. Stop treating me like I’m regular.


*Matthew Knowles peeks over Beyoncé’s right shoulder*


Matt: Aww, my precious grandbabies.


*Beyoncé does a jumping Black Panther front flip and lands next to Jay Z with their offspring*


Matthew: Wow, this is how we’re treating daddies now? Sheesh.




*A Toyota Camry drives past the Harris-Burtka household and comes upon the grizzly scene left by Beyoncé’s squad. The driver picks up his cell phone and makes a call.*

Chris Hemsworth: Hello? Yes, I’m your ride for today. Oh? It’s really impolite to leave and not cancel, ma’am.

Chris: Did you know there are a bunch of dead bodies here?

Chris: You did?

Chris: And you didn’t call the police?

Chris: . . . Ma’am, you don’t sound like a real ass bitch, you sound like my grandma.


The Lemons Part 32






*Ava Duvernay walks back and forth meaningfully in a meeting room with large windows. A herd of white men in suits watch her bounce back and forth between imaginary walls.*


Ava: and the bitch not even tall enough, ergo I’m not casting Rihanna as Storm.

White man in a suit #1: But that’s who people will pay to see. No offense but we can’t sell tickets with India Arie or whatever.

Ava: First off, India Arie is old as fuck. Second, I won’t film this movie with a lead actress that passes the brown paper bag test.

White man in a suit #2: I feel like it would be failing in this case, huh?

Ava: Put that statement back in your dick garage, bruh. Passing the test was being lighter than the bag all the time. Go watch Blackish or some shit.

Ava: Disney just let me direct A Wrinkle In Time and, let me tell you, they won’t be happy if I don’t get what I want. I’m just getting started with you hoes.

White man in a suit #1: Be that as it may, we think that moviegoers–

Ava: White moviegoers.

White man in a suit #1: — would relate more to a young vibrant Sto–

Ava: A light-skinned one. I like how you just gonna talk over me like I’m a bitch.

Ava: Ay, dont turn the other way when I’m blessing you with my attention.

Ava: Y’all out here letting niggas make guardians of the galaxy into a fucking space opera, so I’ll be damned if Storm isn’t going to be a cinematic Erykah Badu album.

White guy in a suit #6: *leans over to white guy in a suit #5* Ayra kabadu?

White guy in a suit #5: Idk just pretend you know

Ava: So are there any African women y’all ain’t cast in Black Panther yet?

White guy in a suit #3: No.

White guy in a suit #5: What about the Chewing Gum chick? Michaela Coela.

Ava: Naaaaaaah. She look too much like a statue you’d see in a rich white person’s house.


*Ava sees her phone vibrating and picks it up off of the back of the intern that she designated as a table*


Ava: Hello?

White guy in a suit #1: Wow


*Ava moves the phone from her ear so fast*


Ava: Beg pardon?

White guy in a suit: *pensive lip tightening*

Ava: Ugh, I hate when y’all do that.


*Ava puts the phone back to her ear*

Ava: Hello?

Viola: What are you doing?

Ava: Prospering.

Viola: Okay. Look, Steve got out. Donald Trump took him out of the police station.

Ava: Okay.

Viola: He has Bernie in him.

Ava: Bitch, no. No. I don’t care. Hold on.


*Ava moves the phone down to her chin*


Ava: Wait.


*Ava walks outside of the room and closes the door*


Ava: I thought I told you I wasn’t fucking with y’all no more. None of y’all.

Viola: Ava, you the one that bought the drugs that led to this.

Ava: Me no care.

Ava: Big shit popping right now and I’m not about to be a Ghostbuster for you hoes noooo more.

Viola: You’re being a child, Ava. We released a paranormal entity.  We are the gatekeepers of this realm now.

Ava: You sound like Octavia with all that nerdy shit.

Ava: I’m a different person now, Vah Vah. I deleted grindr off my phone and everything.

Viola: Grindr is for gay men.

Ava: So am I.

Ava: I swear you can find a bruja to help you with this on the Internet somewhere. Please leave me alone. I am Ava Duvernay.

Viola: Hang up on me if you want. I’ma put my d-


*Ava hangs up the phone and walks back into the office


Ava: Okay, so Storm is going to be plus-sized.

White guy in a suit #3: Oh god

White guy in a suit #5: *snorts a line of coke*. . .. . .  . I’m fucking wit it.

*Viola Davis walks into the office*

Viola: Let’s go right now, Ava.

Ava: Ay yo, how you just walk in my shit an-

White guy in a suit #4: I guess you two very strong, independent, well-spoken ladies don’t need us. How about a lunch break, fellas?

White guy in a suit #5: Like a motherfucker

*The suited white men all get up from the chairs and walk out of the room simulataneously. Ava watches in disbelief.*

Viola: Hi, Ava Duvernay. I’m Viola Davis.

Ava: I knew I shoulda directed Fences. I knew it.


*Prince lays with his eyes open on a barely there mattress in a gray cell. He was granted his silk purple pajama pants with a matching top, because he’d be damned if he was wearing Government Issue crap. The door to the cell suddenly unlocks and a tall Indian woman in a swat uniform walks in*


Guard: Come with me, please.


*Prince rolls his eyes and gets up from his pathetically thin bed*


Prince: Have you ever seen the waters of Geirangerfjord?

Guard: I don’t. . . No, I haven’t.

Prince: Ah. Your eyes just reminded me of them is all.

Guard: Thank you, Mr. Rogers.

Prince: Please, call me “daddy”.

Guard: Heh, no thank you. Walk before I  have to threaten you.

Prince: Indeed.


*The guard makes room for Prince to exit the cell and Prince obliges*


Prince: So Jehovah, right


*Prince proceeds to explain Jehovah God’s intention of restoring Earth to the paradise he intended as they walk down a metallic silver hallway. It’s like some shit out of X-Men*


*The guard stops at an interesting, futuristic looking door. She swipes a card in front of a reflective panel and the door swirls open.*


*Prince walks in behind the guard to see David Bowie and George Michael playing ping pong in green and blue pajamas, respectively. Besides the ping pong table, there is a couch and a very obvious two way mirror. The guard suddenly walks back out and the door swirls shut behind her. Prince walks over to observe the match*


Prince: is this like a tournament or

David: *Returns a serve* No, we’re just knocking some balls around. We’re living legends; we shouldn’t have to ask for a ping pong table.

George: *knocks it back* We’ve been waiting for you, actually. They have some big announcement for us.

Prince: If it’s not about setting us free, I don’t care even a little bit.

Cameron: Then you should care very much.


*Cameron’s voice echoes throughout the room via loudspeaker.*


Cameron: I have good news and bad news.

George: Yay. *aces David*

Cameron: The bad news is that the concert is cancelled. President Trump announced it on twitter and now we must do damage control. He looks crazy now.

Prince: Now?

David: It was a stupid idea anyway.

Cameron: . . . Yeah.

Cameron: But the good news is that we still need you.

George: *Aces David again* Yay.

Cameron: You will be our test subjects for experimenting with the afterlife.

David: Oh, come on. I mean, cool, but no. *Gets aced by George once more*

David: Oh bloody hell.

Prince: I’m going outside. Trump is president and my people need me.

Cameron: No no no no no no. No. The world is already used to you guys being dead and so you’re dead. Now you’re going to investigate being dead.

David: How so?

Cameron: I’m glad you asked. We studied Beyoncé’s machine and made an interesting find. It doesn’t work through reanimation; it locates spirit energy.

George: *smacks ping pong ball back to David* lol okay

Cameron: The energy isn’t here, though. It’s somewhere else. Another plane if you will…

David: *returns the ball just to miss the return* I’m listening.

Cameron: The machine creates a small portal that finds the specific energy of an individual. See, you insert an item that gives off the person’s residue. Say, for example, if we wanted to find Prince, we’d put his favorite guitar into the machine. The machine finds you, pulls you back and creates a body using the most advanced 3D printing we’ve ever seen.

Cameron: Like, seriously, she must have been having this studied since “Ring the Alarm”.

Prince: And this has what to do with us, exactly?

Cameron: Well, we studied the machine and learned to create a large portal that leads to the home of the spiritual energy. You guys are going to investigate it for us.

George: Why not use your soldiers?

Cameron: Because we need people here that will protect us from Beyoncé.

Prince: You could just give us and the machine back.

Cameron: Hahahaha. Negative.

David: Well when is this allegedly happening?

Cameron: Now.


*The two way mirror comes up to reveal a wall of metallic liquid. It looks like that shit Busta Rhymes and Janet Jackson were standing in for the “What’s It Gonna Be” video*


Prince: Nope fourty times.

David: Don’t we need equipment or something here?

Prince: It don’t matter. I’m not touching that shit.

Cameron: Go in or we make you go in.


*the door unswirls itself open and a dozen Michael Jacksons flood the room wearing glittering military garb*


*Prince immediately flying kung fu kicks the first Michael in the face, causing him to make a familiar Michael Jackson noise*


*Another Michael charges forward only to catch a knee to the gut from George Michael. George Michael looks back at David Bowie and smirks*


George: This is exactly like that one party at Grace Jones’ house.

David: Exactly like it.

Prince: What? When? Nobody–*gets picked up from behind*–I missed that!

David: *Double axe handles the clone holding Prince in the back of head* I thought she banned you when she found out you were straight?

Prince: *pulls clones hands off of him and side kicks another one* No, because I’m not into pegging.

David: Ah.

George: HELLO


*David and Prince look back to see two Michael Jackson clones holding each of George’s arms. They suddenly toss him into the portal and giggle heartily*


Prince: We don’t have to ge-

David: We have to get him.


*David takes off and jumps into the portal. A few Michael Jackson clones grab Prince’s arms, but he shakes them off as if their hands were dirty*


Prince: Unass me. I’m going, I’m going.


*Prince walks over to the portal and touches the goo. It surprisingly has the texture of water. Prince sticks one leg into the portal, takes a deep breath and then falls in.*

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.