by Bernie Mac
* * *
I love comedy—but it’s gonna be a day when I say, “You know what? Gotta move on.” There’s only so much you can talk about. I think you reach your peak. It’s no different than Ali. It’s no different than Bill Cosby. They don’t sell tickets like they used to.
Man, in 10, 15 years, the world gonna be so different. They already got that virtual reality. I’ll be 55, 60 years old, “W-w-w . . . I ain’t scared of you, muthafuckas.” Niggas’ll be saying, “Look at that bald head muthafucka. Man, he’s through!”
I don’t wanna go out like that. I want you to always remember me as being one of the best. Not as some old nigga who can’t quit: “I’m coming back! Gimme my cane over there, Jordan! I’m coming back like a muthafucka. I might not be able to play power forward, but I’ll play the two.”
I’m not being foolish. When that time comes, I can ride off into the sunset, me and Rhonda. And feel good about myself, knowing I gave 150%. I’m going out on top.
Chapter Five
Family
It’s funny: People always want what you got. They look at me now and say they don’t see me having any pressure. That’s because I went through all of it. They don’t think me and Rhonda ever had our differences. We don’t have any differences—now. Now, we’re beyond all of that.
But, man, we had some humbugs. Physical.
That muh’fucka would come at you like Joe Frazier—head down, just swinging.
One time we had a humbug, she had said, “You ain’t going out.” I had went out two days in a row, coming in four, five o’clock. She gon’ say, “I done told you about daylight hitting you, didn’t I?”
You don’t tell me what to do. I’m grown. So I said, “I’m gonna show you how grown I am.”
She said, “You ain’t going nowhere today.”
“Who you talking to? Yeah, OK.”
I tried to go to bed. My head was sore! Beating like a heart! I was out drinking with the boys. So I get in the bed. And she turn the radio on real loud! Then she let the blinds up, gon’ open the drapes. The sun was beaming in on me, my head was hurting.
She said, “You won’t get no muthafucking rest tonight, I bet you that. I bet you won’t get no rest today. You should’ve got some rest where you was.”
My daughter, her nickname is Boots, she gets up out of the bed. So I got to cool out.
Meanwhile, Rhonda making breakfast for everybody—except me. The house smell all good. I walk in the kitchen and ain’t shit for me to eat.
How the fuck you cook just two chicken wings? Everybody eating but you.
I ask my daughter, “Boots, can I have some?”
She like, “Daddy, this all she cooked!”
So anyway, ’round five or six o’clock, I got a call. My buddy’s like, “Blaseblah, c’mon, man, we goin’ out.”
I said, “Uh, I’m in. Shit, I’m in!”
My wife heard me on the phone. She said, “Didn’t I tell you, I say you ain’t going nowhere tonight?”
I told her, “Man, you don’t tell me what to do. Watch and see!”
I put my clothes out, laid them across the bed and everything. I had my draws on the side, my “go-out” draws. You know, those the ones that be in the crack of your ass. Where you take them off at night and they got a little brown stain on the rim. Little doo-doo on the rim. You can’t help it with all that sweating and dancing. I don’t care how much you wash and scrub, you still gon’ end up with a brown line in your draws. A number “1.” A “1” or an “11.” You got a “111” in your draws you done shitted.
So I’m sitting up there, she walked in, and she said, “You got your good draws out!”
I got my cologne, I’m spraying my draws down and everything, you know. I’m clean shaven, hair all even.
She said, “You come back up in here, it’s gon’ be some shit. I’m telling you now.”
I said, “Well, I’m not worried about it. You got to bring it.”
So I ain’t sweating nothing, right? I come in the house six o’clock in the morning.
Man, that sister met me at the door with a slip on and had a scarf on her head with a knot like Aunt Jemima—like she was making some pancakes.
I walked in. Then, all of sudden, she was behind the door.
And she pushed the door back. She had her hand behind her back. She said, “You think I’m bullshitting, don’t you?”
I said, “Look . . .”
Meanwhile, I’m lookin’ all behind her back trying to find her hand. I had to look to find her hand.
I said, “Look here. L-l-look.”
See, you know when you’re nervous, when you say shit like, “Hey, hey, hey! Hey!”
She said, “Muthafucka, I done told you.”
“Looka here,” I said. “Look here.”
She said, “No, I’mma cut your ass in two.”
“Lemme tell ya something—not if you’re hurt first!”
Next thing you know . . .
Aaagghghh . . . Boom . . . Crash . . . Agggh . . . Huaahhh . . . Aaaahhh. . . .
My daughter come out: “They fighting! They fighting!”
“Go back in the room, baby!”
My wife biting me on the side. I gotta announce it: “Ah, this muthafucka biting me!”
Man, we scrapping. Scrapping! I’m elbowing her in the neck. She hollering. I got that cranium. That ’bow hit that cranium—pow!
She hollerin’: “Ahhh-oh, you done fucked up now! You done fucked up now!”
She went and got a hammer.
Oh, man, she hit me on the side of the head with that hammer. And she said, “Thor! Thor! I’mma Thor your ass!”
Man, I had a speed knot on the side of my muthafucking head so big, it was sticking out like a sprung thumb.
The neighbors called the police. Now I heard a knock on the door —bam bam bam.
Aw, we done tore the house up. Everybody hair is all wild. My clothes, buttons all tore off, shoes scratched. I had blood dripping off my head where she hit me with the hammer.
Police open the door. Man, I was so glad to see them muthafuckas.
I said, “Come on in! Come on in—’cause she trying to start some shit!”
She hollering, “Oh, I ain’t started nothing yet!”
They said, “What’s wrong, Ma’am?”
She said, “He here, he firing on me.”
I said, “She hit me, too! She hit me, too!”
They said, “You want to press charges?”
She said, “Yep!”
I say, “I’m pressing charges, too!
We all going to jail! Boots, get your clothes on! You going with us! We ain’t gon’ have no babysitter! We all going to jail tonight.
My wife was like, “You got-damned right! And we gon’ finish what we started when we get there!”
We didn’t have a whole lot of fights like that, but we had our share. I tell that story because it’s true. People think because you married you can’t have differences and stuff like that. That’s not true. That don’t mean y’all don’t dig each other. That don’t mean y’all don’t like each other, man. It mean y’all human. You got to go to point A to get to Z. Now we don’t do that no more. But before? Whew!
And during that one there? For some reason, that sister was possessed. That sumbitch fought me like I did something to her sister or something. I called her Thor for a long time.
Some women like to cut ya. My wife, she ain’t never cut me—but she always talked about it.
You always know when they going for a knife. When they cussing—and that drawer open? When you hear that drawer with all those jingles? That’s when you start, “Hey, hey, man. Hey, hey!”
They always open it—but they don’t never bring it out. They just want to let you know.
They open it and then they talk to you: “You think I’m bullshitting? Keep on fucking with me. Keep on!”
You like, “Ain’t nobody bothering you, woman. Ain’t nobody bothering you, ain’t nobody bothe
ring you.”
“I’m, I’m, I’m just—I done told you!” And then they close the drawer back up. But she ain’t never cut me.
But yeah, me and Rhonda, we humbugged. I was Ali, she was Frazier. When I was bobbing and weaving, that muthafucka was rushing. She was rushing and cussing, “C’mon, muthafucka, let’s box! C’mon muthafucka, why won’t you stand still?”
I was weaving like Ali. I was moving.
She screamin’ at me: “C’mon, you acting like a little bitch!”
I’m like, “It’s all right, muh’fucka. The name of the game is ‘I-hit-you, you-don’t-hit-me.’ ”
Now, some people might try to say, “Oh, Bernie Mac, you promotin’ domestic abuse.”
Bullshit. That ain’t domestic abuse. And if you say it is, you’s a lie. I ain’t promoting no domestic abuse. I’m telling you what happened in my life. Now, if you want to hide what happened to you in your life, that’s your right.
But I guarantee you, you done had some discrepancies with your wife. You been with her for X amount of years, she done threw some blows. Yes, she has. You ain’t always been the man that you are right now. I know I wasn’t. I’m a much better man than I ever was. Right now, today? I appreciate it. I know what’s in front of me. I see what I’ve gotten. I appreciate what I got. I took for granted, and that’s the worst thing you can do is take for granted. The love I have for my wife. Man, I reflect back, and I couldn’t have the love if I didn’t have those fights. I couldn’t have the love that I have if I didn’t have those trials and tribulations.
I really wouldn’t know how much I appreciate her, if she wouldn’t have came at me like Joe Frazier.
And she kept coming, too. One time, I gave her a right hook—bam!
I swear I heard a voice in my head: “Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!”
Man, I stood up over her ass, man, and the nigga came out in me. “Now! Now! Now!”
She got on one knee. All of sudden I heard somebody say, “He’s up! He’s up!”
She got ah eight-count.
Now, I look back, and I say, “I wouldn’t trade Rhonda for nothing in the world, man!” I wouldn’t give a care, can’t nobody come and take her place, man! She refused to let me disrespect her. She refused to let me dishonor her. She refused to let me treat her less than what she was. So for people reading this, you take from it what you want.
But it’s the truth.
And you have had it, too. Your woman done scratched you or something. You done shook the shit out of her or pushed her. You done ’bowed her in her titty or something. “Got-damnit, I done told you! Quit playing, muthafucka!”
Y’all done been in the car, and your car done zigzagged. She done scratched the shit out of you while you’re driving. “Aw! Ohh!” Sweat done got in the cut. “Oh! Go on! Go on!” “Oh, hell naw!”
And there go the kids, “Y’all stop it, y’all stop it!”
A woman will whoop your ass. You’ll fight a man. But it’s just something about that woman. You’ll be like, “Man, cool that shit out.”
Because she can take a punch. You seen a man and woman fight, that shit be a humbug. Man be backpedaling.
MAN: She bit me all in the side!
You just hear someone going, “Argh, arrr-gnaw.”
“Ahhhh!”
I ’bowed the shit out of that muthafucka. I had to get her off of me.
I’ll tell you about another time we got into it. It was over my daughter and a party I told her she couldn’t have.
See, I’ve always thought I was a decent father, but as I grew and my daughter grew, I’d say I was a great father. And I’m not saying that for credit. And the reason I say I was a great father is not because I stayed like I was supposed to—but I was constantly there. My daughter and I were in communication with one another at all times. She never was distant from me. She came to me for advice, and I gave her guidance. I told my daughter the truth, and a lot of times she thought what I was sayin’ was real cold.
Sometimes, I would tell her no for no reason—other than to teach her I said no for no reason. Just to let her know that “no” exists because my daughter had the best of everything, from my in-laws, from my family, from me and Rhonda. My daughter had a birthday party every day of her life.
And so for her sweet 16 she asked me if she could have a party. I said, “No.”
It might have been cold. Why did I pick her 16th birthday? Because it meant more to her. And I wanted to let her know to get ready for disappointment. You had birthday parties when you were one year old, two, three, four. So on her 16th birthday, I said, “No.”
And the muthafucka threw a party anyway!
I was out of town. Went on the road, came back that Sunday. And how they got busted was a phone call.
It was a big thing about this party. I kept saying, “Everybody knew how I felt about the party.” So I was gone on the weekend. I came back and the phone rang, and they was sleep. I had a few of my buddies over. We drinking beer and everything, chilling. And I said, “Hello?”
He said, “How you doing, Mr. Mac.”
I said, “I’m doing good.”
The voice sounded just like my cousin Greg, so I said, “What’s up, Greg?”
He said, “Naw, this is such-and-such.”
I said, “Yeah, hey, man.”
“I left my speakers to my stereo. I wanted to know when I can pick ’em up.”
“Man, Greg, quit playing! I’m tired and shit.”
He said, “This is not Greg, Mr. Mac.”
I thought it was my cousin Greg busting my balls about Boots not being able to have a party. I said, “Greg, I’m not bullshitting man, quit playing.”
He said, “Man, I’m not playing.”
So I hung up. Dude called back. He said, “Please, Mr. Mac, don’t hang up on me. My name is such-and-such, and I deejayed for your daughter’s party.”
I said, “My daughter ain’t had no party here.”
He said, “Sir, yes she did. I deejayed.”
I said, “Look here, I ain’t gon’ tell you no muthafucking more, man, a’ight?”
Man, I went in there and woke Rhonda up. I said, “Some dude called here talking about he deejayed, left his speakers and shit down there. Y’all had a party?”
A minute later, all you heard was, “They fightin’, they fightin’! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!
“Down goes Frazier!”
My daughter was a great girl, though. I never really had to get on her about too much. I can count on one hand how many times I had to whoop Boots.
And one of them whoopings started up one of them humbugs between me and my wife.
My daughter was outside. It was kinda late, and she knew to come in at a certain time. We had company over, my cousin and her boyfriend. And it was getting kinda late. I said, “Where’s my daughter at?” So I went outside and walked to where she was supposed to be playing.
I walked, and she was nowhere to be around.
I went around the corner, I went on the next corner. I walked up and down the alley. I can’t find my daughter.
Finally, I’m walking down the alley, and this car pulled up. My daughter get out of the car. It was a lady driving: “Uh, she went to the mall with us. Don’t be mad at her.”
I said, “Get out of that car! Get out that damned car right now!” Man, I took her upstairs. Before I did, the lady in the car was saying, “Mr. Mac, it was my fault.”
I said, “Ma’am, you ain’t got nothing to do with this. She know better.” I told my daughter, “You don’t go nowhere without telling me. I don’t even know this lady!”
Man, I took my belt, we was upstairs. I was so mad. Man, I whipped her. I hit her on her butt; she was hollering. I say, “Don’t you ever!”
Rhonda said, “Don’t hit her again, that’s enough!”
I hit her again.
She said, “Got-damnit, don’t hit her again! I told you.”
I said—pow!—“I told you!”
Dow
n goes Frazier!
Man, they had to come betwix us. I think she was trying to get that same bite. She knew that spot was still tender from four years ago.
It wasn’t just the humbugs. It was some arguin’ goin’ on. I’m coming in late. Rhonda mad ’cause she think I’m spendin’ too much time with my boys.
She like, “You out there running the street with your niggas—and we sitting up here about to get put out!”
“Look here, look here! You just get the fuck out my face!”
“Why don’t you put me out your face, Bernie! Put me out your damn face, Bernie!”
My wife’s sister: “They getting ready to fight! They getting ready to fight.”
“You better get your damned sister!”
“I’m sick of him! I’m sick of him! I’m sick of that muthafucka!”
“I’m sick of you, too!”
“You gon’ come home, Bernie, and I’m gonna be gone!”
“Go! Go! Sick of your ass, too! Fat ass.”
“Ya mama fat!”
I’m pointin’ at her: “Hey, hey, hey! My mama dead, now! My mama dead!”
“Good!” She ain’t got nothing good to say: “Ya mama dead! Good!”
No matter what we went through, though, I was in love with Rhonda from the beginning. I was crazy about her. We fell apart at times—but the love was always there.
If you get married for the wrong reasons, it’s not going to last. We had personality clashes: she was growing; we was growing. I see a lot of cats who didn’t make it, and they didn’t put in the effort and didn’t really love that person deeply. You look at marriages now and there ain’t no such thing.
I talk about the fights we had. With some couples, the first fight and they’re gone. They don’t fight for love. They don’t fight for their girl. I fought for mine. And that’s a big difference. Their marriages, man, the first time they had an out, they took it. That’s why their marriages don’t last but eight months, or two years, and then they gone.
Like I tell my daughter, who’s getting married: “Damn love. Love has its place. But y’all got to like each other.”
If y’all don’t like each other, love ain’t gon’ handle it. You can fall out of love real quick. Let that refrigerator be empty. Let that electricity keep going off. Let that landlord put a five-day notice on that door and see how much your love can stand.
