Saturday, September 20, 2008

Guess Who's At Dinner (part 1 of 2)
















This week, our mottled mates dine on meatloaf while scrutinizing the cross-cultural parenting of their scatterbrained friends.


Wow, Jared and Jessica’s yard is immaculate! And look at those windows—not a speck of dust or one streak!






Yeah, talk about keeping up with the Joneses …







And I’ve never seen a Honda Civic so clean! Even the muffler looks like it’s been waxed.






Jared and Jessica will be glad you came over, Beau.







Really? Why?







They’ve recently adopted and they thought that, well …







Whoa, look! Is that a shine box on their front porch?






Creeeeeeaaaaak


Yeah, suh?







Hi, we’re here to see your Mom and Dad!







“Mom and Dad?”







Beau! Mandy! You made it!







We’re so thrilled to see you two!







Hold up, this is your kid?







That’s right! You haven’t yet met our son.

Beau, this is Sam. Sam, Beau.





Did you just say “Sambo?”







Nah, suh. It’s just “Sam.”







Ha, ha! But “Sam-Beau” has a nice ring to it, huh? Watch out, little “Sam-Beau.” You might be getting your very first pet name soon.






Yeah, suh.







No, no, no, you don’t understand. That’s a derogatory—







Come on inside! We just made a big pitcher of Kool-Aid.

You like Kool-Aid, don’t you, Beau?





...







Come on, it’s grape-flavored.







...







And spiked with Tanqueray.















Well, shoot. Throw in a Philly Blunt and copy of Sports Illustrated and I’ll spend the night!






A bit later
















He’s the most obedient child we’ve ever seen. He took to weeding the flowerbeds, vacuuming the house, and taking out the trash every week after only asking him to do each once.





And if I hadn’t stopped him, Sam would’ve even washed, hung out, and folded the laundry.






Gotta set limits somewhere, right? I mean, you wouldn’t want people to get the idea that—






Yeah, I know. I know. He’s only seven years old. He’s got at least another year before he can reach the clothesline without a stepstool.






And he’s smart as a whip! Tell us what you learned at school today, Sam.







My classmates taught me jokes, suh, like this one: You’re so black, you don’t brush your teeth; you just chalk them in every morning.






… Wow.







Did your buddy Jamal teach you that joke, Sam?







Nah, suh. It was all the white kids carryin’ on.







Sam! Where did you learn such language? We taught you better than that!







Sorry, suh. It was all the 1st generation kids carryin’ on.







You see, we’re raising Sam to see the world with no conception of the “r-word.” Caucasians are simply “1st generation Americans,” since they comprised the first settlers.





But Native Americans were already—







And blacks are “2nd generation.”







And we lump Mexicans and all those other immigrant groups into the “3rd generation.”






What a novel concept!







I just lost my appetite.







Beau, what’s the matter, my man?







Uuuunnngh. Where to begin?







May I be excused, suh?







All done, Sammy? Ready for bed?







Yeah, suh. I’ll just mosey mah way on out to the garage.







Excuse me? The garage?







Yeah, Sam isn’t too keen on it now, what with the lack of plumbing, the exhaust fumes, and all.






But we keep telling him, just stick to installing the piping and ductwork every night like we tell him, and by the time he reaches his teens he’ll have a sweet bachelor pad.





One night at a time, just like Shawshank.







Yeah, I want to be able to stand out there once that HVAC gets pumping and the toilet’s installed, and tell my boy Sammy just like Will told his son in The Pursuit of Happyness, “Never tell me there’s something you can’t do.”





What a fatherly gesture!







Uuuunnngh.







Well, good night, folks.







Sweet dreams, honey!







It was nice meeting you, Sam.








SAM'S PHANTASMAGORIA





































SAM-BEAU … SAM-BEAU



Father?







SAM-BEAU












Why are you calling me that, father?







BECAUSE YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN ME, SAM-BEAU … YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN ME AND FORGOTTEN WHO YOU ARE











No! How could I? The kids at school remind me constantly ...







Charcoal face!









Midnight black!









Tarbaby!









NO, SAM-BEAU … REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE—YOU ARE MY SON, AND A TRUE BLACK BEING











But I’m not supposed to say that word—







REMEMBER, SAM-BEAU












Father!







REMEMBER












Don’t leave me!







REMEMBER












Please! Tell me who I am! Don’t leave me!








Back in reality, in the garage




Click! Click!








Yawn ... Huh? Whu?







Click! Click!








Who’s out there? Father?







No, Sam. It’s Beau. Remember me?







"Remember?"







Come on, kid. I’m breaking you out of here.







But where—?







There’s no time to waste. Come on…. I’m going to show you who you really are.






To be continued ...

4 comments:

vanessa said...

I see Ike hasn't knocked you totally out. Hope you're doing OK and whatnot.

Shawna said...

that was really trippy.

Jackson Brown said...

:D

yeah, i gotta watch out for that.

obscurity sometimes becomes a substitute for humor, i think.... hopefully this week's comic will bring more of the funny.

Abdel Shakur said...

Naw, dude. Funk that. That trippy stuff is on hit. You are working on something deep here. Don't flinch, it's going to be funny. Some of my all time favorites (Calvin and Hobbes, Peanuts, Far Side, etc) had stories that hinged on "trips" rather than basic humor.