- Come on--yeah!
- Whoo! - Whoo!
Hit me twice!
[lightly edgy music]
* *
[indistinct yelling, whooping]
- Look at these motherfuckers.
[background chatter]
Man, fuck this.
I'm not even fucking supposed to be at this stupid ass job.
I got all the fucking potential in the world.
Hey, y'all, I'm finna quit.
I don't want to be a cafeteria lady no more.
- What are you doing? That's good furniture!
What's wrong with you?
- Life is what's wrong, nigga.
I'm sick of serving string beans
and expired fruit salad.
I want a floor job.
I want to watch the big spenders
swinging their dicks.
- What? We're getting floor jobs?
Ooh, I want to be a chandelier.
You know, just sitting out there,
hanging over niggas, judgin'.
- I have to say, it would be nice
to get a job that doesn't involve urinal cakes.
- Thank you. - Or people leaving
their toenails behind.
- Whoo, I want my name on a damn marquee.
Shit, I don't know why my name ain't up there now.
Chris Henson, Hammond Theater,
with the likes of Bruce Bruce Bruce.
- Bruce Bruce the comedian? He's funny.
- He's funny. - Bro, and I like his suits.
- No, niggas.
Bruce Bruce Bruce. He's a magician.
He got a gun.
- Chris, I gotta ask you, man.
What is your show gonna be? You know what I mean?
What you gonna do? What, you gonna go on stage
and valet cars? [laughs]
- [mimics laughter]
No, nigga. What is your show gonna be?
Being a custodian without a gun?
- Okay, I've explained this to you all many times.
I am not a custodian.
I'm the head of Custodial Operations
and Services.
- Okay, so you head doo-doo man.
[laughter]
That's still a custodian, dog.
Even after Mario eats the star, that nigga's still a plumber.
- I think we should be putting all of our chips
in my big cousin Chris' bag. - Talk that shit, man.
- I don't know what he does.
He don't even know what he does.
Nobody really knows what he does.
But he's the best at it.
- Get off his dick.
- No, I won't.
- Thanks, cuz. - No problem.
- Y'all need family like this.
Oh, get-- Okay, yeah.
Make a wish, nigga. Make a wish.
- Hmm.
- Hey, listen up, bunch of ninnies.
I'm trying to come up with a name
for this new blackjack dealer I just hired.
He's got a rubber toe.
So I'm thinkin'...
[rolls Rs] Roberto. [chuckles]
- I don't know. It seems offensive,
even if I can't tell why.
- Fair enough, ACLU.
Before I head on outta here,
I just wanna let y'all know
that the shipping department's having a little debrief
down on the loading dock. Jak?
Care to join?
- Ha ha. - Come on, man.
- This man gotta work. - Come on, man!
- * Go to work! *
* Uh-oh, somebody's gotta go outside-- *
- [laughs]
- That hurt. - Yeah, yo, have fun, cuz.
- All right, Jak, let's step back here.
Man, I gotta say, I see real potential in you.
I want to take you back to my office,
show you some videos I made on employee procedure,
you know, see some of my home videos.
Hey, You been doing real nice work lately,
Sweetie.
Real nice work.
[discordant music]
[whispering]
- * La la la la la *
* Oh oh-oh-oh *
* La la la la la *
* Yeah-eah-eah *
[funky bass chords]
* *
* Oh yeah-eah-eah *
- Man, fuck this shit!
- But can they make the shrimp Impossible?
- Why?
- No, Chris. No.
- Bet Tom Cruise could do it.
- I mean, I guess, but...
- So what are you doing?
- I don't know.
- I've been moolested.
Molested. Molested.
Pfftt.
- Like, recently?
- Yeah, like, right now. Just now.
Horace and me were walking down the hallway
and he made me feel safe.
Then he grabbed my penis and slid into the darkness
like my thoughts during alone time.
- Yo, that's fucked up, man. For real!
Also, why he touch you?
You ain't even the sexiest nigga in here, man.
My ass be sitting like a man off work, shit.
A nigga not gay, man, just competitive.
Sorry for your loss, my nigga.
- I don't know why he picked me, I don't.
Maybe he just likes touching boys.
- But you're not a boy.
None of us are boys.
You're a 27-year-old man.
- Right? You can't be molested
if you're at the age where you can shit yourself
because your metabolism changed
and you had a White Russian for the first time.
- The point is I got touched!
- Bro, this is wild.
- This is wild. God.
Horace did a horrific thing.
We need to take this to our superiors.
- Oh. You think I should tell?
- No, no, no, no.
I'm saying weshould tell.
- Why is this suddenly a "we" thing?
- Yeah.
I think the thing I need right now is--
- What you need is to use this.
I mean this is--this is-- Jak getting touched
is the perfect opportunity for all of us.
I mean, think about it. You want a floor job, right?
Well, I happen to know that this company
has a clear no-tolerance stance on sexual harassment.
And, as the functionary leader of this group...
- Function this dick.
- Ha ha. Oh, damn, that was a good one.
You beat me to that shit.
- This is the perfect opportunity
for me to remind them.
- Look, bro, the situation is fucked up.
And it's the type of garbage
that women have to deal with daily.
But Langston is wrong. And gay.
You can't tell anybody. Ever.
I mean, think about it.
What kind of woman wants a man
with that type of baggage?
Having to wake up at 3 a.m. to comfort you
on the kitchen floor-- it's gross.
- Okay, Sam, just rub the boy's back.
- I knew I was a boy. Sam...
I don't want to be like this.
- I don't want you to be like that.
But ain't no one gonna care about a grown man
who got touched and didn't fight back.
- Okay, but it's this type of logic
that makes men toxic and repressed.
We need to put our faith in the system.
- Bitch, what system?
At least four times a day,
a nigga "accidentally" brushes up against my ass,
and I dress like Rev Run.
- Well, a older lady touched me
when I was just a boy, and I was not too bummed out,
to say the least.
- I'm sorry, what?
- Oh, the year was 1997.
Scientists had just cloned a sheep,
and Pamela Anderson only had one kind of hepatitis.
The first one.
- Ooh, that's my song!
Chris, show Mommy's friends that little dance you be doing.
[Master P's "Make 'Em Say Ugh]
- Ooh--ooh, ooh!
- He can dance his little ass off.
- Yes, honey, he most certainly can.
- All right, now, baby.
Me and your Aunt Monica gotta go to return
some JNCO jeans she stole from the mall.
Patrice, a dear friend who I trust endlessly,
is gonna look after you.
You're a wonderful son
and the greatest dancer to have ever lived in 1997.
Which is today. We're in 1997.
- You're bad at telling stories.
- Shut up, nigga. I know my past.
Anyway, as soon as my mom was gone,
Patrice came and sat next to me.
And just as soon as that gorilla dunked
from the free-throw line... [chuckling]
Patrice put her hand on my thigh.
Her head went down, and she made me say unhh.
Nuh nah, nuh nah. [laughs]
You feel me?
Mm. Right on my Master P.
- Disgusting. - Dude, that's fucked up.
- Yeah, bro, you were a victim for sure.
No--hell no, I was not.
You're not molested unless you feel molested.
I had some fruit snacks in a treat right afterwards.
[clicks tongue] I'm good.
- This honestly explains so much.
- Like what?
- Your struggle with commitment.
- Never love these hos.
- Your obsession with '90s lingo.
- Welcome to the '96 Olympics.
- And your inability to get hard
without a hat on. - What? Eeeoo--
- No, please don't.
- Eeeooo. See, it's 'cause you know
I'm gonna get hard.
I think y'all niggas don't get it,
that's the problem. So I'm gonna go talk
to some people that will get it.
The valet guys.
- Chris, don't do this.
- Yeah, Chris, it's not gonna go--
- Da, da, da, da. You had your chance.
Now I'm gonna take this story to somebody
who gonna give it the respect it deserves.
[scoffs] Talking to three niggas ain't never got
they dick sucked-- that's crazy.
- See, this is what I'm talking about.
This is why Jak needs to tell someone.
- Brah. Come on, bro. Don't start that shit again.
He's not doing it. - No, he-- Look.
Cuba Gooding Jr. spent years getting called "white-washed,"
and now he yells at white women
with a chicken bucket on his head.
Hurt people hurt people. It's like a zombie bite.
- Hurt people hurt people.
[discordant piano music]
Hurt people hurt people.
I don't want to hurt anybody.
- [gibbering] [laughs]
I'm just playing, man.
Hey, y'all remember,
I'm gonna see y'all at my birthday party on Monday.
Come on. Choo choo!
- Come on. Now he's just showboatin'.
- [whimpering]
- So, I was a child, right? But I was, like,
a buff-ass child.
Like, grown folks walked up to me all the time, like,
damn, you are clearly a fully-grown adult man
who owns a lawnmower,
pays full price for movie tickets,
and got a mortgage, chores and whatnot.
- Hm. Yeah.
Listen, can you bring my car around?
Again, it was the silver Honda Odyssey.
- Oh, yeah, for sure. - Thank you.
- I don't think you understand how strong a nigga was.
Imagine me in a diaper right now.
- What-- - Look at that.
Is it off the ground? - What?
- Is it off the ground?
- Maybe like a tiny bit on that side.
- Oh, nigga, come on. Don't lie to me.
- It's barely off the ground. - That shit's hovering.
I mean, she sucked my dick so hard
I thought my toes switched places, man. I--
- Chris, like I said, you are loved.
And what happened to you is very, very sad.
- What?
[scoffs]
["Make me say Ugh" plays]
* *
- Make me say unhh.
- There you are!
Please, just give me the keys and tell me where my car is.
- Nuh nah, nuh nah!
- What?
- I said nah, nigga, nah!
Nah!
- In conclusion, Chauncey,
my client requires a provisional remedy
for the damage acted against him
by his overseeing employer.
Malfeasance.
- So somebody brushed up against you
at the vending machine? - Nah, not me.
- I'm the infected one, sir.
- Well, nigga, you the one that got touched?
- Yes.
- So you let a grown man grab your dick,
and you, as a grown man, came to report that grown man
to another grown man.
- Uh, I prayed on it first, but yes.
- Well, wait a minute. Objection!
My nigga--my client will not be victim-shamed
in this court.
- [scoffs] I would have believed
y'all said the girl got touched.
See, she a stud but she still got some jiggle
under there.
- True.
- This shit right here is just flat out embarrassing.
- Well, embarrassing as it may be,
I believe section 3, article--
- Fuck section 3, nigga. Why you ain't beat his ass?
- No, no, it doesn't matter why he didn't beat his ass.
Okay? There has to be something
you can do to resolve this. - Hold on, nigga,
let me break something down for you, Serpico.
Okay?
Today's Friday, nigga.
So I ain't gonna get to the paperwork on this shit
till next week, and next week
they got new episodes of "The Masked Singer."
I think Alphonso Ribeiro is the walrus.
But anyway, you niggas ain't got no evidence
but the frailty in this nigga's eyes right here.
So that mean that a motherfucking investigation
might not start for three or four months,
and by then we been done forgot about this shit.
So we need to quit wasting each other's time
and y'all need to step the fuck out my office
so I can leave before I'm supposed to.
- You know what, thank you.
This has been an absolute treat.
I cannot wait to do this again.
- Well, I haven't enjoyed this at all!
And I think the walrus is Brandon T. Jackson.
- Told you. - Brandon T. Jackson.
Who the fuck is Brandon T--
- You know Brandon T. Jackson!
Don't you dare pretend not to know his work!
- Oh, God damn Brandon T. Jackson.
Nigga, I know Joseph Jackson!
Fuck your ass up in this bitch.
Tito Jackson, motherfucker. [door closes]
- Okay, I have an announcement to make.
After some deep soul-searching,
I've come to the realization that I have been molested.
Mm. Bummer.
But what it also means is I have my hook.
Now don't go posting yet, okay?
I gotta figure out how to roll this thing out.
- Good. Now you can tell your mama
so she can beat that nasty bitch's ass.
- But for what?
What happened to me doesn't make me a victim.
In fact, it makes me quite the opposite.
- It makes you a tool.
- I'll smack you dark-skinned.
- No, no, no, don't smack me.
What I'm saying is,
we can use your story
to finally bring light to these issues
and prove Chauncey wrong.
- Ah, so you're saying we should make a video.
- No, that's not what I'm saying.
- But to make a video, we have to have a spokesman.
Someone Black, strong, sexy, swole.
Probably got they dick sucked after little league,
practice and the game.
But where would we find such a man?
With such detail as I just described--
- Chris. - Where would we find
this guy? Hmm? - Chris. Chris.
What about you?
- [gasps] Me?
What a surprise.
I accept your nomination.
I'll be like DeRay McKesson
with the Black Lives Matter movement.
- That movement was actually started
by Black women.
- What did Black men do then?
- Re-tweet sometimes?
- Oh, we gotta do more than that.
We'll tweet first, then we'll retweet our tweet.
- Mm-hmm, okay. I like that.
But remember, I'm gonna be the boss
so we can't be doing all that cussing.
- I should have socked him, huh?
- Yeah. But you didn't.
Now there's only one thing left you can do.
- Hmm?
- [scoffs] Get real fucked up.
- Brah.
- Sam.
Sam!
[yells] Sam!
- Hands! That's not where hands go!
- Jesus fucking Christ, why are you yelling, Nina?
- You said at least once a week you would try
that aerobics class.
- I be saying shit all the time.
Like, I'll mount the TV on the wall.
Where is it now?
- Sitting on some Reebok boxes.
- Exactly.
So why do you have expectations?
- Oh, thank God.
- You got homeless ass Jak laying on my clean couch
knowing he be peeing in the bed.
- Oh, my God, for the last time Nina,
I didn't pee in the bed that night.
I was out in the streets
and peed on myself, then went to bed.
Just 'cause you weren't around for the conception
of the pee pee doesn't mean you can judge.
- No, okay, I'm not debating pee pee.
Sam, get up. - All right, all right.
- Get up. - Okay.
- Get up! - Jeez.
- You're lazy.
- What is wrong with you? You're too fine
to be so mean.
Come on, like, babe you're too pretty
to be yelling like that. - Uh-uh.
Where were you two at last night?
- The bar, trying to cheer Jak up.
- Why, what happened?
- Uh...
- The boss pulled him aside
and gave him a little tug on his junk.
Langston said we had to snitch. Didn't work.
Anyways, I got him drunk and made him forget things.
You know O'Brien's has a patio now?
- You said he was touched at work?
That is insanely inappropriate.
- Yeah, but I fixed it.
He was doing snow angels on the pool table by 2 a.m.
He's fine.
- I keep rethinking it, and I just wish I had just--
- You should have socked the nigga.
- And lose his job?
- I'm not even sure Jak works there.
He just eats other people's lunches
out of the fridge. - [retches]
Hold on, hold on. I'll be right back.
Be right back. - Nasty nigga.
You know, the same thing happened to my friend Ronda.
- Your friend? You hate Ronda.
Just the other day, you said you hope
her Scion slides into a lake with the door slammed shut.
You gave specifics. - It don't matter.
Anyway, one time on a work retreat in Toronto,
her team leader invited her up to do a quick download, right?
Which meant drinks where he ran his hand
up her goddamn leg.
- No! - Yeah!
Now, I don't see how he ain't bleed out
from the splinters on her prickly sea urchin legs,
but-- - There it is.
- Fu--
- But, it was an abuse of power nonetheless.
It totally fucked up her work and personal life.
It's like a lingering sickness for her.
- Mm. Is that right?
- Sickness?
- You know, she had to go to special therapy
where they use gardening for healing.
Jak needs therapy too.
- All therapy does is give false solutions.
"Oh, my daddy did this, my daddy did that."
Everybody's daddy did something.
You don't need a white bitch in a scarf
drinking Earl Gray tea to tell you
that the world is trash.
- It's not that simple. It's psychological trauma.
- Here you go, Iyanla Vanzant'n again.
- I love her. - I do too, though.
- Yeah, right? - She is dope.
But, like, everything doesn't have to be
that dramatic.
People love to make false equivalencies.
Sometimes you unpack and it's just bullshit.
- Yeah, but you don't unpack anything.
You just boxed up his trauma
and poured Hennessy on top of it.
- Because everything doesn't need to be unpacked.
Like homophobes. They think we're gay
because our uncles touched us at a party or something.
That's not the case. Neither one of us was molested.
We're just gay. - That's true.
- I popped out the pussy wanting pussy, the end!
- All this nigga philosophy
isn't gonna keep you from working out.
- Look at you, caring about
my statistical chances of high blood pressure.
- And with the way you eat after 10 p.m.,
it's almost a certainty, boo. - Oh, well. Give me sugar.
[echoing voice] - Hurt people hurt people.
It's like a zombie bite.
- Brah.
- It's like a lingering sickness.
[overlapping voices, eerie music]
- God.
[eerie laughter]
[music escalates]
No! No! No! No! No! No!
You sink has men in there. Men!
- The biggest problem
with the phrase "sexual assault"
is it makes you feel all yucky,
like when you found out why "Martin" ended.
- Oh. Yeah.
- So what we need to do is find a way
to take the "sault" out of "sexual assault."
- Hmm.
So you just want it to be "sexual ass" then?
- Ooh, that is good. Write that down.
- Look, Chris, I don't care how we do it,
I just feel like we need to do everything we can
to help Black men.
- Damn, Langston, that's beautiful.
- Then I can get my vengeance on Chauncey,
that greasy-lipped moon cricket.
- Yo.
Chill.
[creepy laughter]
- You've been doing great work, sweetie!
[indistinct muttering]
- Who tied you up?
- Uh, Jak.
- What you talking about, bro?
- Uh, I'm infected.
Like Nina's coworker.
Langston said hurt people hurt people.
I don't--
I don't want to pass along this sickness.
I did what any good person or werewolf
would do in this situation.
- See, now, a normal man would be confused
by every single word coming out of your mouth right now.
But me? Nah, I'm prepared.
- Mm-hmm. Chris is right.
Look at me.
Hey, we're gonna take care of this.
Okay?
Chauncey is never gonna hurt you again.
- It was Horace that touched me.
- Mm-hmm. Exactly.
- Huh?
- We got you, big dog.
- We got you. - Yeah. Gotcha, guy.
- Y'all always keep telling me what y'all want,
but no one wants to listen to what I need.
I feel like Odell Beckham.
Everyone just keeps projecting their shit on me.
- Here.
- What do you want me to do with this?
- Look, my nigga, you're obviously going
through some shit.
And as a woman, I've been in similar situations.
But Nina told me that people use plants
as therapy, so, I don't know.
Water it, talk to it, whatever.
It's yours.
- Yo. - Hmm?
- Thanks.
- You're welcome, man.
[discordant piano music]
- [barking] - Oh!
- Ohh!
- Well, I bought a big piece of land
up in Muskegon, so I'm gonna let
all my ferrets out and see what happens.
Find out who's the most loyal, you know?
- Enough of that shit.
No one cares you're 53 with ferrets.
I have something un-ferret-related to say.
Male molestation. What is it?
This pamphlet don't tell you what it is.
Mm-mm. But I will.
Hyah!
And just how cool it can be to get molested.
- Nigga, please!
For the last time, you were molested
and it wasn't cool!
Go see somebody, please!
- Shut the fuck up, Rocko, and put your hat back on.
God damn it, you won't silence me, bitch.
Where was I? Oh!
With my new motivational video,
I will pick up the slack where this company has left off
in terms of male molestation.
- You should have taken your job more seriously, buddy.
- I'll choke the fuck out of ya.
- Prepare to have your eyes opened, bitches.
* That's why I make music *
Oh, I did see you there.
People ask me all the time,
"Chris, how'd you become the man you are today?"
Well, it's because I got my dick sucked
when I was just a boy.
At first I didn't tell anybody about it
'cause I thought it was pretty normal.
Then after I got some nasty reactions,
I realized that's just not the case.
And look, I don't know why this happened to me.
Maybe 'cause I was cooler than everybody else
and probably had a bigger dick, too.
[chuckles]
Yeah, some things never change.
But what needs to change is that all of us
who were touched as boys
realize we are unbreakable kings.
Let's change the stigma, my enigmas.
Let's remind the world that
even while we're dressed up as power rangers on Halloween,
we've still got hos.
Adult hos. [chuckles]
Really makes you think, huh? That's dope.
* Adult hos adult hos *
* I don't know how old, we just know they adult hos *
* Adult hos *
* Hos, hos *
[door slams]
- Hey!
Heeeeeey!
[slow motion yelling]
[grunts]
- Ahh!
- [grunting]
- Come on, man. - No! No!
He touched my dick!
He touched my dick, and the only way
to stop this sickness
is to take his booty as sacrifice.
- Come on, man. Come on, brother.
- Get off of me!
- I mean, I thought he was gonna water it
or meditate or some shit.
- Honestly, he did the same shit to me
in the men's bathroom.
- What?
- He did that to me late in the office one night.
- Guys, come on.
Y'all know I was just "Horacing" around.
[laughs]
- Nasty motherfucker.
[muttering]
- Well, well, well.
Welcome to the new era, y'all.
An era where the boys and men come together and--
- Hey, y'all, Horace left.
- Shit. Well, that era ended quickly.
- All right, y'all, listen up.
Horace escaped.
Now, we can't find him,
nor are we willing to look.
Now, security is gonna escort all the men
down to their cars for the time being.
- Door-to-door service. Y'all welcome, niggas.
- Why have you never escorted the women to their cars?
- In the meantime,
I'll be absorbing Horace's position,
functioning as manager and head of HR.
- What? What? No!
No, when? Who decided this?
- Man, I don't know. Some rich white nigga
that makes decisions, man.
You best sit your tender-dick ass down
now nigga. What the fuck wrong with you?
[laughter]
- His cigarette went-- - He's gonna cry.
He's gonna cry.
- It's not funny. - Tender-dick.
- You're going to jail, Chauncey.
- [laughs]
- I still can't believe I worked
around this many molested ass niggas.
But today turned out to be a good day.
And I'm glad my boy got what he needed.
- Thanks dog. I do feel better, guys.
Yo. Yooo!
Chris, now you gotta find that Patrice lady
and stick her in the butt with a bamboo dildo.
- Mm-hmm.
- Or leave a pile of shit on her front porch.
- Okay.
[funky music]
* *