I Ain't Scared of You

by Bernie Mac

  I got a problem. I’m not ashamed to say it. I ain’t putting on airs. I’m saying what you’re scared to say because you think people ain’t gon’ like it when you tell the truth. I can’t fuck no more. Three minutes. I’m weak. I went to the doctor, I say, “Doctor, something is wrong with me. I ain’t the man I used to be!”

  I used to be a sex champion. Man, when I got on pussy, I used to fuck the hair off it. Now I’m retired. My shit is on the wall of the hall of fame. I look at it and get mad now. My wife say, “You gon’ come on and do something?” I try to find an excuse. “I’m going to Cleveland this week.” Because I can’t fuck no more. Three minutes, that’s all I’m giving her. That’s all I got.

  My wife was playing with me in the bed the other day. We was in the bed naked, wrestling. I told her to hurry up. I told her to hurry up. I say, you know I ain’t got long. You up here bullshitting. She want to wrestle and play. The next thing you know, I came all on her belly. She cussed my black ass out. I didn’t give a fuck. I was asleep. I’m telling you the truth. Sex is hard work, man.

  There’s a time and place for everything. And women love oral sex. That’s just the way it is. All you got to do is say, “Girl, I’ll kiss your ass.” Watch what she say: “When?” Don’t even know what your name is.

  Women don’t like to have oral sex with me. I got a problem with that. Men been doing women for years. Ain’t never complained. Every time you ask a woman to do you, they get an attitude, especially black women. You got to give clues: “Why don’t you come over here and lay your head right here? Come here and relax.” They’ll cuss your ass out: “What the fuck you mean by that?” Share and share alike. If that’s your woman, you got to give the best you got. Because if you don’t you gon’ lose her.

  Don’t be ashamed. Everybody needs love. I don’t care if you’re a preacher. Everybody needs a nut sometimes. In the name of the Lord, you need it. Ain’t no shame. But the messed up thing about that is kids.

  See the world is messed up—kids. See, I’m saying what you’re afraid to say. Kids make me sick. I can’t stand those sumbitches. I’m not talking about the kids from the ’70s, ’60s, and early ’80s. I’m talking about these ’90s got-damned kids. Ooh, these sum-bitches, man, I can’t stand them! Ever since they changed the rules to stop you from hitting these fuckers, I lost interest in them. These some bad sumbitches. They ain’t got respect for no damned body with they small asses. See, I grew up with Big Mama. Ain’t no Big Mama no more. Ain’t no more Grandmama. Your grandmama now, what—34? Great grandmama 34, grandmama 24. See, that’s what I’m talking about.

  I got a daughter in college. So the last few years of my life, me and my wife been living real swell. Nobody in the house but her and I. Then I got three new kids. What the fuck I need three new children for? Two, four, and six. These were my sister’s kids. I ain’t ashamed to tell you. My sister was on drugs. The state was gon’ take the kids, you know. But I came in. Yeah, I said it, my sister is on drugs; I ain’t ashamed. Some of your family is fucked up, too. I’m sitting in court, I should’ve sat there like my brother did. My brother ain’t say a damned word. He just turned his got-damned head. When they said they were going to give the kids over to the state, he turned his head. I had to get my self-righteous ass up: “Naw, this ain’t right. We’re family. We got to stick together.” If I’d known these bastards was like this, they’d be separated right now.

  Man, when I got ’em, they was ages two, four, six! And that two-year-old, she was the sumbitch. That heifer been here before. She was an apostle for the devil, I tell ya! One day, I was combing her hair, looking for some numbers.

  And the four-year-old, my sister musta really been getting high with her because she don’t say nothing; she just look at you. I told her, “Heifer, if a fire break out, you better learn how to whistle or something. Or you gon’ be a burnt-up bitch fucking with me.” I ain’t got time to be going into no fire looking for somebody like this. She just stare at you.

  And the six-year-old cry like a sumbitch. But the two-year-old had control over the six-year-old’s mind. Whatever the two-year-old would tell the six-year-old to do, he’d do it. He would run to do it. And she’d kick him, scratch him, beat him. And he’d cry like an old heifer all the time. He came in my room the one day, crying like a little bitch.

  I knew what was wrong. I say, “Sabrina?”

  He say, “Yeah.”

  I said, “Look in my drawer and gimme my pistol.”

  This heifer, she had to be stopped. She had to be stopped. She was bad.

  I came home one morning, one o’clock in the morning. The two-year-old done sent the six-year-old down the stairs for some milk and cookies. He gon’ walk past me like I’m a visitor.

  I say, “Sir, where are you going?”

  NEPHEW: To get some milk and cookies.

  ME: Sir, it’s kinda late. Go on back upstairs.

  NEPHEW: She wants some cookies now.

  ME: I don’t give a fuck what she want! You better go on back upstairs before you get fucked up down here!

  I don’t mean no harm. That’s how I talk to them. To hell with that time-out shit. I ain’t got time.

  He gon’ go upstairs, and the two-year old gon’ say, “Where is the cookies and shit?”

  He gon’ tell her, “Him downstairs.”

  Like I ain’t got no damned name. Who the fuck is “Him”?

  She gon’ tell him, “I’ll go get the shit myself.”

  She come waltzing down into the kitchen. Got a little step ladder, gon’ open the refrigerator—and I’m watching. I said, “What are you getting ready to do?”

  LITTLE NIECE: Get some cookies.

  ME: Didn’t you hear me tell your brother? You can’t have no got-damned cookies. You open that refrigerator, I’m going to hit you in your doggone temple. I’m not bullshitting with you.

  She gon’ look at me like I stuttered or something! She gon’ look at me up and down like I’m short. I said, “Get your ass upstairs!”

  And they ain’t never sleep. Up walking around the house at two, three o’clock in the morning. See, when my sister had these kids, she was on drugs. She must’ve been on coke and reefer. Because they’re wide alert, and they’re always hungry.

  My wife and I couldn’t even talk no more. I can’t make decent love to my wife because these kids won’t go to sleep. When you get older, your priorities change. And you got to change with it. I’m old, but when you got kids, you can’t do the same things you used to do. We got to make plans to have sex.

  These ain’t nothing but words, but the truth is, these sum-bitches made me sick! And if you touch them, they sue. What type of shit is this? I was going to be sued muthafucka, I tell you. Because I got me a bat and I planned on using it. They cut my love life out! And they weren’t scared of nothing.

  I was watching TV. Remember scary pictures? Movies so scary you couldn’t go to sleep that night? When your mama said, “Good night, son,” you said, “Ma, leave the light on.”

  I was watching Dawn of the Dead the other night—the one where the whole town was dead. And everybody is walking around the whole town like zombies. And these five people lock themselves up in the house. Now, first of all, some people are supposed to die. But if the whole town is dead, you don’t lock yourself up in no house. Use common sense. Common sense ain’t common. If I was in a town, and the whole town is dead, I wouldn’t lock myself up in no house. I would walk outside and act like I was one of those sumbitches. I’d have my car keys in my got-damned hand.

  When you do things, you do things for a certain reason. I been with my wife 25 years. I wouldn’t trade it for the world because you learn. You can’t fuck no more. And outside pussy is dangerous. Ask Clinton. Now everybody say he’s a dog. Yes, he was wrong, I’m not going to condone it. But they say he was wrong because he fucked her in the White House. Where was he going to take her? Holiday Inn? What the president gon’ take her to the Holiday Inn for? He shoulda fucked in the bathroom
like what the fuck he did: “Here, suck it, suck it!” If you can’t talk nasty to your wife or tell her, “Suck it, bitch, suck it,” get somebody to suck it and say, “Suck it, you muthafucka you!” Anytime a woman save a dress with some sperm on it, that’s how you talk to her: “Suck it, you filthy bitch, suck it!”

  I ain’t gon’ lie to you, I love me some oral sex. When a woman do me, it just drives me crazy. I can’t control myself. Last time I had oral sex, it was years ago. That woman was something else. I’m looking for that heifer right now. Oral sex just make you do things, say things. You ever had a woman give you oral sex and look at you? What are you looking at me for? Concentrate! Focus!

  I’m just kidding. People love nasty jokes. I don’t know why people like fuck jokes. I’m not telling no more fuck jokes. I’m tired of fucking. I’m tired!

  It’s all about love. I tell my family these are just jokes. Jokes got their place. But jokes don’t tell people who you are. You got to know yourself, love yourself. I don’t care nothing about y’all liking me. Because I like me my got-damned self. When I get done telling jokes, then I’m the real got-damned man. When I’m on stage, these is jokes. Jokes! When I’m on stage, it’s just a half an hour of bullshit. That’s what I tell my auntie.

  See, my auntie is a real superficial woman. She like material shit, she care about what people think about her. She treat all the kids real bad, except for her kid, Tyree, with his stuttering half-retarded ass. Naw, I don’t mean no harm. I call it like I see it. He ain’t retarded, he be playing like he retarded. Ain’t nothing wrong with that sum’bitch. That sum’bitch is smart. Everytime it’s time to clean up or something, he goes into his act, saying, “Ooo-ew.” If you tell him to pick up something, he goes right into that, “Ooo-ew!” I say that sum’bitch faking like a sum’bitch. He read when he wants to. And when he want to play or something, his eyes straighten up and everything. But when you get on him or discipline him: “Ooo-ew!” And he stutter real bad. He’s one of them shaky-stuttering sum’bitches.

  And my auntie treat him like he’s a prince. She got the school bus picking this boy up, and the school right across the street. Now when he’s playing, he walks regular. Now when she tell him to walk to school or something, he start walking all like a cripple: “Ooo-ew!” Ain’t nothing wrong with that bastard!

  So, he’s on the corner waiting for the school bus. Now, he stutter real bad. He’s one of them shaky-stuttering sum’bitches. So the school bus pull up, doors open. He say, “Ah-ah-ah-ah-ooo-ew!” Bus driver closed the door and drove the fuck off. Next day, same corner. He’s standing on the corner. School bus pull up, doors open. Aw, he’s mad now.

  He went home and told my aunt. She’s mad now: “Ah, we ain’t having this shit here. I’m going to school with you in the morning. And I wish that bus driver would drive off. It’s gon’ be all in the news.” She took her time walking him to the corner the next morning. She got her video camera and everything. Bus driver pulled up, opened the door. He did it again: “Ah-ah -ooo-ew!” The bus driver closed the door. My auntie jumped at him: “Hold on, black bastard, hold on! What’s your got-damned problem denying this boy his education?” The bus driver jumped off the bus and said, “Ah-ah-ah-ah-ooo-ew—He was teasing me!”

  Boy, black people are something else. I been black a long time, don’t tell me nothing about black people. My wife talk all the mutha-fucking time. Black folks talk too got-damned much. But when it come time to tell, we don’t say shit. Your wife go on vacation and muthafucking neighbor say, “I saw you come in late last night. Who was that with you?” But let somebody break in your house.

  BLACK MAN (to neighbor): Did you see anything?

  NEIGHBOR: Naw, naw. I don’t want to get involved. I ain’t see shit.

  And you can’t fire a black person. You know it’s going to be some shit. It ain’t never a good time to fire a black person. Always going to be some controversy. If you fire him in the morning, he got a problem with it.

  BOSS: Hey Bernie, before you punch in, can you come over here? Can I talk to you?

  BLACK MAN: Yeah, what’s the problem?

  BOSS: Uh, uh, we don’t need you anymore.

  BLACK MAN: You let me come all the way down here to tell me this bullshit?

  If you fire them at the end of the day, it’s a problem.

  BOSS: Bernie, can you come into my office?

  BLACK MAN: Yeah, what’s the problem?

  BOSS: We don’t need you no more.

  BLACK MAN: You let me work all muthafucking day, and you gon’ tell me this?

  White person get fired, y’all go home. Y’all get understanding, Ya’ll got supports. Relationships. A white guy gets fired:

  BOSS: Joe, can you come into my office?

  WHITE MAN: What seems to be the problem, Bob?

  BOSS: I won’t need you anymore.

  WHITE MAN: Aw, got-damn, Bob. You’re downsizing, huh?

  He’ll go home to his wife.

  WHITE MAN: Honey, can I talk to you? Got-damnit, they let me go today. But we’re going to make it. We’re going to find a way to fucking make it. With your support, I can do any fucking thing.

  Us? Shit, we got to walk the street for two days thinking, “What the fuck am I going to tell this bitch?” When you go home, you got to be quick:

  BLACK MAN (to wife): Honey! Honey, come on in here, let me talk to you.

  And they gon’ turn you off as soon as they come in the room.

  BLACK WIFE: What the fuck is it?

  BLACK MAN: Well, sit down.

  BLACK WIFE: I can’t sit down! I’m cooking.

  BLACK MAN: Well, baby, I want to tell you something. Uh . . . Uh . . . Uh . . . They laid me off this afternoon.

  BLACK WIFE: Laid you off? Muthafucka, you gon’ have to get the fuck outta here. I can do bad all by my mutha-fucking self.

  There’s a big difference between a black woman and a white woman. You can shake a white woman. You can’t even look like you wanna shake a sister.

  BLACK WOMAN: Put your hands on me. Come on, put your muthafucking hands on me!

  Kids ain’t nothing but some little-ass grown-ups. Columbine, Colorado would never happen to me because I’d be looking. Kids would be like:

  KID: What are you in my room for?

  ME: Because I fucking can be. And let me see something I don’t like. It’s gon’ be a misunderstanding. It’s gon’ be some furniture moving around this muthafucka.

  Time-out is some bullshit. I don’t play them fucking games. See, our generation dropped the ball with their kids. We talk about we want to give our kids more than what we had. Naw, more ain’t better. See, we fucked up. Don’t you hate it when your relatives bring their kids over your house and they jumping on your furniture and shit?

  RELATIVE: Aw, he ain’t gon’ hurt nothing. Don’t worry about it.

  ME: Because the shit ain’t yours, that’s why you ain’t worried about it. Get that ugly bastard off my couch!

  * * *

  I’ll babysit your kids all day if you let me hit them. If I babysit your kids, you won’t need no hidden camera to see how I’m treating them. You come pick your kid up and he got a knot on the corner of his fucking head, don’t ask what happened to your kid. I took a hammer and slapped the fuck out of him! When he got a rope burn around his neck, it’s because I tried to hang the fuck out of his ass.

  I’ll tell you something else I don’t like. I hate the fuck out of funerals. Black funerals? I ain’t going to another funeral. I ain’t going to my own funeral. I went to my cousin’s funeral the other day. It was the most aggravating thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I told my wife I ain’t going to no more fucking funerals.

  They lost my muthafucking cousin. We got to the funeral, and it was about to be four or five funerals because they done lost the body. They opened the casket, and my auntie say, “That ain’t my muthafucking son! You better find my muthafucking son before I blow this muthafucka up! Find my baby! Find my baby!”

&
nbsp; They rolled that muthafucka out, brought in another casket. It was him. But he had on black. And that was the wrong outfit that muthafucka had on. My auntie say, “That ain’t the outfit I brought him! He don’t like black! He wouldn’t be caught dead in black! I bought him brown. Y’all better get some brown on my baby!” They roll him out, come back three minutes later, and she say, “Now that’s my baby. How y’all change him so fast?” They say, “We just change the muthafucking head.” All that hollering, I’d have changed the heads, too. He’s dead!

  That’s why I ain’t having no funeral. To hell with a funeral. If you can’t treat me right while I’m alive, fuck it. I ain’t gon’ know you’re there. I just wish I could stage my own death. Just play like I’m dead. So I can see the no-good sumbitches when they come to my funeral. I’d be laying there like I’m dead and I ain’t dead. I just want to raise up on a few people and cuss they asses out. Oh, don’t let a person come by that owe me some money. That’s when I’m going to grab their fucking arm: “Aw, hell naw, hell naw! You got my money?” You know you want to do that. Don’t you want to tell people off sometime? But you scared. You say, “Fuck off!” You’ll tell your woman or man, “Fuck off!” But a person on the street? Naw, you say, “Let it go, let it go. I don’t want no trouble, let it go.”

  I never thought I’d be like this. I used to be the hammer. Now I ain’t nothing but the nail. I’m an oral sexer. Oral sex, if it ain’t done right, will make a person fight. A woman will tell you in a minute. “Get up! Stop, get up, go on over there. I’ll do it my muthafucking self.” And you sit there, watching. If a man is getting it from his wife or somebody he like, it’s different. If it’s your wife, and she ain’t doing it right: