Friday, June 27, 2008

It Ain't Tricking If You Got It

Scene: Darkened hotel room, small desk lamp on the nightstand that gives off a faint light. An older white woman sits on the edge of the bed near a window with shades drawn. A slim African American man, reclines on a chair near the door in the shadows. The woman wears a gray pantsuit with a yellow shirt. (The man wears a midnight black suit, with a crisp white shirt adorned with a purple tie and a purple pocket square in the suit jacket.)

Big Homie Outstanding: "Sweetie, I heard you got some money problems that only Big Daddy can help with. It's ok, come tell Daddy all about it."

Her Royal Coldness: Don't "Daddy" me buster, you know what I need, don't play these games.

BHO, smiling slightly: No, baby, I don't know what you need, you're going to have to speak up if you want Daddy's help.

HRC: What you want me to beg nigger, do I got to get on my knees? You motherfucking men are all the same. How many times do you need a woman to stroke your dick and your ego before you're happy?

BHO, stubbing out a cigarette and beginning to rise from his chair: Look, I don't need this shit, heifer. I've put up with enough from you and your ignorant ass man. If you got a problem with dicks getting stroked you need to speak to him. I'm here because you need me, not because I need you. I've proven that already.

HRC: Wait...Sit down, (sigh) I'm sorry ok, I'm sorry. Do you know how hard this whole thing is, do you know what I had to put up with to get here? Now, I've got to deal with this bullshit. You think I want to be asking your ass for money, you think I want anything from you?

BHO: I could give a fuck what you want to do. Don't talk to me about what you want to do. You called me hear to ask me something now ask me, Dammit. I need to get home to my girls.

HRC: How are the girls and your lady? You know I always liked her, no matter what I said or what other people said. She was always so--

BHO: I don't want to hear that revisionist shit. If you like her, tell her you like her, don't come to me with that. Look, we need to move on with this. You of all people know I've got things to do.

HRC, her face crumpling: Fine... I need the money...I need about 23.

BHO: Did you just say 23?

HRC: Yeah, that's what it's going to take for me to get right.

BHO, completely out of his chair, heading towards the hotel room's door: I'll see you around, I thought you wanted to be serious for a minute. (places hand on door handle)

HRC: Wait! What's the problem?... You know how much I spent, you know I need to break even.

BHO: I don't care about you breaking even. I didn't come here for you to break even. I came to help, I didn't come to be no trick.

HRC, rising from the bed, moving towards the door: Are you calling me a hoe? Motherfucker did you just call me a hoe! Yeah, leave then... I'm going to let everybody know your uppity ass came to my room and called me a hoe because I asked you to come together in the name of unity. We'll see what happens to your black ass then!

BHO, still holding the door handle: You finished?...Are you finished?... Good, if you're finished, we can talk. Otherwise, get all that out your system first...Now you know I wasn't calling you a hoe, stop playing games. Don't try to chump me, that shit ain't gonna fly. Don't let the suit and accent fool you.

BHO returns to his original chair, crosses his legs. HRC walks over to the window, slightly cracks the blinds.

HRC: Look at those lights...Those were my lights, this is my city. I owned this damn city for eight years. I should have owned it for eight more. Instead, they took it from me, they couldn't stand the thought of someone without a dick running things...Look, I need at least 18...Eighteen puts me close to the finish line, it's not that far from there.

BHO: 9

HRC: Nine?... Are you fucking serious?... Nine ain't shit. Give me 15 at least, if I got 15 from you I could find the other 10..

BHO, leaning forward slightly in his chair: I'll give you 10, and I'll only give you that 10 if you shut the fuck up about these conspiracies. I need you to nod your head, show your teeth and play your position... I'm not giving you 10 to have your pet crackers making snide remarks behind my back. I'm not giving you 10 so Billy Boy can pout and complain because I didn't kiss his damn ring...I ain't kissing no FUCKING RING! Shit, y'all are lucky I ain't spit in your water like Kizzy...

The offer is 10.

HRC, shoulders slumping, facing away from BHO: I'll take it...You're a cold motherfucker, you know that? This whole thing was cold.

BHO, door open, light from the hall illuminating cigarette butts on the table where he sat: It was business. Nothing else. I got it, you need it. That's business.

BHO closes the door behind him. HRC continues to stare at the closed window...



OG, The Original Glamazon said...

LMAO!! Loves it! Oh I thought I was the only one who imagined how thangs were going down behind doors so colorfully!!

This made my Friday! Have a good weekend.


WNG said...

Lawrence O'Donnell, who used to write for the West Wing wrote a script for what would happen at the convention a while ago. I can't remember what magazine it was printed in, but it's been floating around on the web and every time I read it I crack up. YOURS WAS BETTER- I LOVED IT!!!

(ok - I just said I liked something you did better than something connected to the West Wing - if you don't know how BIG that is search West Wing on my blog)

Truthiz said...


Big Man said...


I read that piece. It inspired me to try my own hand at a similar scene. I'm glad y'all liked it because I was a little worried.

sdg1844 said...

Brilliant! I am smiling and snickering @ my desk. This is genius Big Man. I love it. Have a great weekend!

Ms. Deacon Blue said...

I love the imgagery here. For some reason it made me think of a Donald Goines novel.

Big Man said...

Thanks Ms. Blue

I'm not a huge fan of Goines, but that's the kind of thing I was thinking about when I wrote it. Those kinds of characters.

The Christian Progressive Liberal said...

Big Man, Hollywood needs you. This was some priceless LOL moments with this piece.

And the irony is, it's SO TRUE.


Deacon Blue said...

I agree with my wife about the fine imagery here. It's funny though, how you've got Obama smoking in this. Ms. Deacon Blue and I were just joking recently that you KNOW with all the stress of campaigning, that nicotine gum just can't be doing the job. I've got to imagine that from time to time he's still tapping one out from the pack he's got hidden from Michelle.

the uppity negro said...



nice play on the initials Big Man...

Raving Black Lunatic