Everybody Hates Chris (2005–2009): Season 3, Episode 6 - Everybody Hates Bed-Stuy - full transcript
After Chris's first article for the school paper is rejected, he creates a bogus story about a serial killer in Bed-Stuy--which only gets him in more trouble.
EVERYBODY HATES CHRIS #049
"Everybody Hates Bed-Stuy"
Closed captioned
CHRIS ROCK:
At the end of the school year,
I was going to graduate
from Corleone Junior High.
My eighth grade picture
had a list
of everything I'd accomplished,
which so far, was nothing.
This was my last chance to make
sure that didn't happen again.
Why aren't you filling out
your yearbook activities form?
Because right now,
the only thing I have
to put under my picture is
"human punching bag."
How about "First Black
kid at Corleone"?
Actually, I wasn't the first
Black kid at Corleone...
(gun cocks, then fires)
I was just the first one
that made it into the building.
Okay, so I might be the first.
But until now,
that hasn't meant a whole lot.
But you tried out for
the basketball team.
And ran for class president.
Yeah, but I failed.
Nobody remembers failure.
I thought about
other Black people
who were first at something,
and what it would be like
if they had failed.
Thanks for showing up.
This Black guy was
in here, uh, Robinson.
You know I was going to break
the color line for him.
He showed up 20 minutes late.
Claimed he couldn't
get a seat on the bus.
Now you, kid,
you can't hit.
You can't run.
You can't throw.
But you show up on time.
It's not too late.
You can still get
involved in an activity.
Like what?
I don't know.
Something that plays
into your strong suits.
Problem was,
all I had were weak suits.
Choir.
I can't sing.
Glee Club.
I can't sing.
The debate team.
You can talk, can't you?
Yeah, but that's full.
Well, it looks like
the only thing left
is the Chess Club
and Journalism staff.
I thought about joining
the Chess Club.
Go!
(applause)
Extra, extra!
Dummy joins newspaper.
School newspaper, here I come.
Because failure
is not an option.
Captioning sponsored by
PARAMOUNT TELEVISION
School newspapers are different
in white neighborhoods.
For one thing,
there's no obituary column.
So, what do you
want to write about?
Politics.
No.
I write about politics.
Okay, then sports.
No, Ping does
the sports column.
Mostly covers Ping-Pong.
Okay, then entertainment.
Like, movie reviews
and stuff like that.
This isn't Jet magazine,
this is a newspaper.
I like Jet.
Okay, then what do you
want me to write about?
I don't know, something
that you know about.
She doesn't have the guts to
suggest a fried chicken column.
Like what?
I don't know.
Something that's
unique to you.
You know, something that's
unique to you, Blackety.
While I thought
about what to write,
my father thought
something was wrong.
Re-elect Lamar Johnson?!
Why're you campaigning
for this guy?
Because my daddy
supported his daddy
when he was
city councilman,
and now I am just carrying
on the tradition.
But you're hardly home as it is.
Who gonna take
care of the house?
That look means,
"Ain't you got two hands?"
Baby, don't worry.
The campaign will be over soon
then everything will be
back to normal.
I don't know why you want
to be involved with this guy.
He's nothing but a
crook and a womanizer.
Julius, would you
quit being jealous.
He is not a crook.
I've know him
since I was a teenager.
So, even Saddam Hussein
had friends.
(knocking at door)
Could you get that?
(knocking continues)
Thank you, baby.
Julius, ha-ha!
Good to see you,
my brother.
Hope you plan to
vote next week.
Yeah, I-I do.
Hope you plan to lose.
Hi, Lamar!
Rochelle, how're you doing?
Good to see you.
Look at you.
Oh, good.
Rochelle,
I want to thank you
for volunteering
to help our campaign.
Oh, not a problem, Lamar.
You know you are
like family to me.
Like play cousins.
My mother saw a councilman,
but my father saw this:
Rochelle, baby,
Daddy needs you to get on out
there with your fine self
and get Daddy them votes.
Aw! But Daddy, it's raining
cats and dogs out there.
Cats... (chuckles)
Girl, you better
get on out there
and go on
that campaigning.
Get on out there.
Vote for Daddy.
Vote for Daddy.
Uh, so can I pick
these up later?
Oh, yeah, you know what,
I'll get started on them now.
Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.
What about dinner?
Oh, baby, can't we order
Chinese food?
Well, who gonna pay
for this Chinese food?
Uh, I can pay you
with my undying gratitude.
Well, can you
pay me back with $13.43?
(muffled grumbling):
Julius...
(both laughing)
Julius, you funny, man.
Yeah.
No, you funnier.
No, you funny.
No, you really funny.
And you lucky.
I mean, you got yourself
a fine woman right here.
Yes, yes.
Don't worry, baby, I'll cook.
(clears throat, coughs)
Uh, I was going anyway.
Bye.
Listen,
don't forget to vote.
Oh, I won't.
Oh, he won't, but not for you.
(button clatters)
Oh, Julius.
Yuck!
What's the matter?
My peas are touching
my mashed potatoes.
So what?
I just hate when one food
touches another.
Baby, that's what mashed
potatoes are for.
They're like little
clumps of glue
that you use to
pick up your peas.
That's disgusting.
I could only imagine
what would've happened
if I'd tried that.
I can't eat this.
My peas are touching
my mashed potatoes.
Are they separated now?
Mm-hmm.
Chris, put that paper away.
You're just
like your daddy.
You know better
than to read at the table.
Sorry, ma-- it's just that
I'm writing an article
in the school paper
and I'm looking for ideas.
Oh, well...
why don't you write
about Councilman Johnson,
and all the wonderful things
that are happening
in the neighborhood?
Like crack?
You know what,
as a matter of fact,
I think we all should help.
Drew, you can
help me put up posters.
And Tonya,
you can hand out buttons.
I've got homework.
Yeah, and I got to read
an autobiography on Billy Ocean.
Don't even look at me.
You know, that's a shame.
People marched and had dogs
and hoses turned on them
for the right to vote, and
you guys can't even help.
Maybe you should turn
dogs and hoses on them.
Okay, fine.
I'll do it by myself.
My mother had to do it on her
own, and so did I.
How's school?
Tough, I've got to write
an article for the school paper.
Oh, you're a writer now, huh?
Well, it's just that this
is my last year
at Corleone and I think people
won't remember me
unless I do something.
Good for you.
It's great to
be a writer.
You can get your legacy started.
Legacy?
Your legacy.
Like, what people remember
you for.
Somebody should tell
Bobby Brown
about this whole
"legacy" thing.
Only problem is, I don't
know what to write about.
Well, you happen to be in luck.
I got a lot you can write about.
But you're gonna have to
tone it down a little bit,
because it's juicy.
Really?
Yeah.
You know, when I was young,
I was arealplayer.
I dated women
wherever I could find them.
Oh, yeah, I was what you'd
call a serial dater.
I went out with
thousands of women.
They all cried when I left.
But they'd all take me
back in a second.
No, I didn't know that.
I dated all the pretty
women in Syracuse.
Both of them.
Then I dated all the
pretty women in Albany.
Now we're up to three.
Then, I dated all the pretty
women in Pittsburgh.
Okay, we're back at two.
But I know it's hard
to look at old Doc
and think of me in that way,
but I'm a real lady killer.
I knew one thing for sure:
nobody at school
was writing about this.
While I was getting my story
down,
Johnson!
my mother was
getting the vote out.
Vote Johnson! Johnson!
You got it, you got it.
Johnson!
Vote for Johnson!
Vote for Johnson!
Here, vote for Johnson,
he's a great guy.
Vote for John... hey!
Wait! Wait! Wait!
Wait, wait a minute!
Wait a minute, what the
hell are you doing?!
I'm trying to prevent
the election
of this evil individual.
Lamar Johnson is not evil.
You know that since
this man has come into office,
my business has dropped 35%?
That's because the murder
rate has dropped 35%.
The whole reason
I moved to Bed-Stuy
was because
business was booming.
I couldn't keep
a casket in stock.
They were literally
flying into the ground.
You are sick.
That's why I'm going
to do everything
in my power to get
him re-elected.
I'm going to do everything
in my power to get him defeated.
What?! Wait a minute now.
If you're not voting
for Johnson,
who are you voting for?
Himelfarb?
Abe Himelfarb,
who owns the pawn shop?
With Himelfarb in office,
everything will fall
naturally into place.
Over my dead body!
That would be tragic,
but if it were to happen,
you can rest assured
I'll give Mr. Julius
a nice discount.
You... you just stay away
from my posters.
Vote for Johnson!
Vote for John...
Hey! Hey!
Wait! Stop that man!
Stop him!
Wait! Wait!
When I turned in my story,
Lisa read me the riot act.
You call yourself a writer?
This is the worst
story I've ever read.
I just wasted
20 minutes of my life.
Do you know how many trees
died for you to write this?
You're destroying
the ozone layer.
People are gonna get cancer.
Okay, okay, I get it.
So what's wrong with it?
Everything--
who wants to read
about some crusty
old ghetto Romeo?
Well, you told me write
about something I know,
and I know this guy.
Well, if this
is the best you can do,
maybe you should think
about doing something else.
Like the Chess Club?
Go!
(cheering)
I wonder if there's
a Checkers Club.
Lisa hated my story,
so I showed it to Ms. Morello,
who loved anything black.
Lisa's right, this isn't good.
What's wrong with it?
Chris, there's nothing worse
than racial stereotypes.
We've seen this
a thousand times.
The tall, shirtless Black man,
his ebony pecs
glistening with sweat
from working in the fields.
His furrowed brow
filled with savage lust.
Where was I?
I think you were talking
about racial stereotypes.
Oh, right.
I want to read
about the real Black men
who walk the gritty streets
of the hood.
People like Super Fly,
the Mack, Black Belt Jones,
Truck Turner and Blacula.
Tell me the truth
about the pimps
and the hustlers,
the violence...
all set to a jazzy beat!
Oh, there's a jazzy beat
I want to give her,
right upside the head.
Everyone else hated my article,
but I knew I could count
on Greg for support.
It's horrible, dude.
I've only been to your
neighborhood twice,
and even I have more
exciting stories.
Well, I don't know
what to write about,
'cause everything they're
asking for doesn't exist.
That's the wrong
attitude.
What do you mean?
Do you want to be remembered
for being something more
than just a human pinata?
Yeah.
Do you want to
have something
under your picture
in the yearbook?
Yeah.
Then give the
people what they want.
I thought journalism
was supposed
to be about
reporting the facts,
but what I found out is that
people don't always
want the facts.
So I decided to givethe people
what they want.
I took Doc's story
about being a lady killer,
and dropped the word "lady."
OMAR:
Who do you want to beat?
CROWD:
Johnson!
OMAR:
When do you want to beat him?
Now!
When I say, "Johnson,"
you say, "Fool." Johnson!
CROWD:
Fool!
Johnson!
What is that noise?
That's Mr. Omar.
He's having
an anti-Johnson rally.
When do you want
to beat him?
What?!
When I say, "Johnson," you
say, "Fool"-- Johnson!
Fool!
Johnson!
Oh! J...
Who do you
want to beat?
Johnson!
ROCHELLE:
Tonya, tap your butt on
downstairs and lock the door.
Go on, now!
...you say,
"Fool." Johnson!
CROWD:
Fool!
Johnson!
Fool!
Hey, hey, don't
listen to that fool.
Johnson is a good man.
He's cleaning up our streets!
Vote Johnson!
What kind of councilman got
people campaigning for him
hollering out of windows?!
Vote for Himelfarb!
How you gonna
vote for somebody, and you can't
even spell their name?!
Vote Johnson!
We can't spell his name, 'cause
Johnson ruined the schools.
Vote for Himelfarb!
When I say, "Himel,"
you say "Farb"-- Himel!
Farb!
Himel!
Farb!
Well, at least
Johnson ain't locked
out of his own
damn house!
When I say, "Locked,"
you say, "Out"-- Locked!
CROWD:
Out!
Locked!
Out!
That's what he is.
Hey, wait, wait, wait, wait!
Where you going?
Where you going? Come on!
Himelfarb will open doors
that's been shut.
He will put a chicken
in every pot.
After I changed my story,
everyone else changed theirs.
Oh, Chris!
Oh!
My brilliant
little Alex Haley.
So, did you like the story?
Like it? I love it!
The Scissor Killer?!
I wouldn't step
foot in Bed-Stuy
for all the money
in the world.
That's how most people feel.
It was so
frightening!
So real!
The truth leapt off the page.
The truth jumped off a cliff.
So, are you going to publish it?
Are you kidding?
After this story,
no one at this school
will ever forget you, Chris.
But that's just
the beginning.
This Scissor Killer has got
to be stopped,
atthe Brooklyn Crier, and
they published it, too! Look!
(exhales loudly)
Because of you,
they're going to bring
this man to justice.
Because of me,
they're gonna waste their time.
CHRIS ROCK:
I wanted to be remembered,
and this was something
people were never going
to forget.
Brooklyn was paralyzed
with fear.
There was fear
in the beauty shop.
"Put the knife to her and..."
(all gasping)
There was fear
in the barbershop.
There was even fear
in the gutter.
* All our times have come
There was only one man
who was happy.
(laughing)
* Here but now they're gone...
Now that's what
I'm talking about.
(wheezing laugh)
The Brooklyn Crier is working
in conjunction
with local authorities
to determine the whereabouts
of a man known only
as The Scissor Killer.
The Scissor Killer was brought
to the attention of the Crier
by this Corleone Junior
High School student after...
Rochelle, good God,
have you seen the stories?
I just saw it on TV.
(stammering):
This is a... a...
(stammering)
Oh, this is a disaster!
Can you believe what this is
going to do to the community?
I mean, why would you let
your son Chris write a story
like this when I'm trying
to get reelected?
What? You're worried about
being reelected when my son
is out there
about to be
snipped to death by
a scissor killer?!
Is that what you
saying to me?!
Uh, n-no, no.
Yes!
I'm saying
what would people think
if I'm allowing a
serial killer to roam
the neighborhood?!
I hadn't seen spin like that
since Usher battled Omarion.
I don't know
if you noticed or not,
but ain't nobody
in the neighborhood
except that killer
and my baby!
My story had pulled the wool
over the community's eyes,
but Doc's eyes
weren't woolly at all.
Who keeps taking
these posters down?
Now, Chris, let me see
if I understand this correctly.
The killer
came over here
and spontaneously
confessed to you
about his murderous
past in Syracuse,
Albany and Pittsburgh.
Is that about right?
Yeah, if by right,
you mean wrong.
Yeah, kind of.
Oh, what part of
that did I get wrong?
The part about the killer
coming out here.
Chris, you've got this
whole neighborhood terrified.
Ain't nobody
on the streets.
Ain't nobody out here, ain't
nobody coming in the store.
I'm sorry; it's just that
I want to be remembered.
Chris, you can't base
your legacy on lies.
Now, you got to go and
tell somebody what you did.
Walking home,
I couldn't help thinking
that my street was usually
filled with life,
and now it was an empty
wasteland, all because of me.
I felt worse
than food poisoning.
Little dude from across
the street... come here, man.
Man, what you
doing out there?
Don't you know there's
a killer on the streets?
Nah, I'll be all right.
Let me hold a dollar.
* The people getting angry...
Be safe out here.
Did I just get mugged
from a window?
Not only was Brooklyn filled
with fear,
it was filled with reporters.
WOMAN:
Today, the streets of
Bedford Stuyvesant are deserted.
All of the murderers,
rapists and Black people
who normally populate
these streets
are behind
closed doors.
And yet, it
is no safer,
because of one man--
the Scissor Killer.
There's the young man
that-that broke the story.
Let's see if we can get a word.
Young man... what we... how...
Can you tell us any
more about the killer?
What kind of sweat
socks did he use?
How did you get away?
How did you get him...?
The thing I was most afraid of
was telling my parents
I'd made up the story.
I couldn't think
of anything worse.
(overlapping chatter)
Hello, worse.
Oh, my God, Chris,
where have you been?!
I was so worried
about you!
Your daddy is
on his way home.
This detective wants
to talk to you.
If you're Black,
that's a sentence
you never want to hear.
Listen, Chris, we need a
description of the killer.
Give me a second
to make one up.
Well, he's Black,
um, five-two,
light skin, uh, afro?
He stopped listening
after Black.
What's going on?
There he is!
On the floor, now!
ROCHELLE:
No! No! No, no, no, no, no!
Hey! Oh, oh, oh!
You're going
to fry for this one!
Hey! Chris!
ROCHELLE:
You got the wrong person!
No, no, no! That's my father.
He's not a killer!
How do you know?
If I didn't tell the truth,
there was going
to be an obituary.
'Cause there is
no killer.
What?!
You better explain
yourself, Chris.
I made it up.
When I handed in my story
to the school newspaper,
they said it was so dull that
they wouldn't even print it,
so I made the story a little bit
more interesting to read.
I'm sorry.
There's a gun pointing at
your daddy's head right now,
and you're sorry?
Lamar Johnson's
campaign
is falling apart,
and you're sorry.
People are running
around this neighborhood
just scared to death,
and you're sorry.
Boy, you don't know
what sorry is.
I'm going to ask you
one more time, ma'am:
Do you know this man?
Yes! That's my husband,
for God sakes!
Son,
you've got a knack
for inventing evidence.
You might want to consider
a career in law enforcement.
In a moment,
I might need a cop myself.
All I did was stretch the truth.
Oh, that's a
coincidence,
'cause I'm about to
stretch your behind.
Get upstairs!
After my mother
set me straight,
I had to set
the story straight.
You made it up?
Well, I'm sorry.
I was just giving the people
what they want.
Oh, this is
just great.
All the real killers
running around Bed-Stuy, and you
had to make one up.
That's just lazy.
What else did you make up?
Is your real
name Chris?
Are you
even Black?
Who knows?
This is so disappointing.
You're the first
Black writer in the
school's history.
I was the first Black
everything
in the school's history.
You reach reporter status,
and you make up your story?
What will your
people think of you?
(Caruso sighs)
You just had to lie,
didn't you, Aesop?
Hey, dude.
So, I gave the people what
they want, and now look at me.
Sometimes people don't
like what they want
after they get it.
I wonder if he'll want my foot
in his behind
after he gets that.
I got the yearbook.
I learned a couple of important
things from this whole fiasco.
Number one,
I learned the word legacy.
Number two, people are suckers
for a serial
Scissor Killer story.
And C-- hey, I could write.
But best of all,
I finally did get
something written
under my school
yearbook picture.
* Everybody hates Chris.
"Everybody Hates Bed-Stuy"
Closed captioned
CHRIS ROCK:
At the end of the school year,
I was going to graduate
from Corleone Junior High.
My eighth grade picture
had a list
of everything I'd accomplished,
which so far, was nothing.
This was my last chance to make
sure that didn't happen again.
Why aren't you filling out
your yearbook activities form?
Because right now,
the only thing I have
to put under my picture is
"human punching bag."
How about "First Black
kid at Corleone"?
Actually, I wasn't the first
Black kid at Corleone...
(gun cocks, then fires)
I was just the first one
that made it into the building.
Okay, so I might be the first.
But until now,
that hasn't meant a whole lot.
But you tried out for
the basketball team.
And ran for class president.
Yeah, but I failed.
Nobody remembers failure.
I thought about
other Black people
who were first at something,
and what it would be like
if they had failed.
Thanks for showing up.
This Black guy was
in here, uh, Robinson.
You know I was going to break
the color line for him.
He showed up 20 minutes late.
Claimed he couldn't
get a seat on the bus.
Now you, kid,
you can't hit.
You can't run.
You can't throw.
But you show up on time.
It's not too late.
You can still get
involved in an activity.
Like what?
I don't know.
Something that plays
into your strong suits.
Problem was,
all I had were weak suits.
Choir.
I can't sing.
Glee Club.
I can't sing.
The debate team.
You can talk, can't you?
Yeah, but that's full.
Well, it looks like
the only thing left
is the Chess Club
and Journalism staff.
I thought about joining
the Chess Club.
Go!
(applause)
Extra, extra!
Dummy joins newspaper.
School newspaper, here I come.
Because failure
is not an option.
Captioning sponsored by
PARAMOUNT TELEVISION
School newspapers are different
in white neighborhoods.
For one thing,
there's no obituary column.
So, what do you
want to write about?
Politics.
No.
I write about politics.
Okay, then sports.
No, Ping does
the sports column.
Mostly covers Ping-Pong.
Okay, then entertainment.
Like, movie reviews
and stuff like that.
This isn't Jet magazine,
this is a newspaper.
I like Jet.
Okay, then what do you
want me to write about?
I don't know, something
that you know about.
She doesn't have the guts to
suggest a fried chicken column.
Like what?
I don't know.
Something that's
unique to you.
You know, something that's
unique to you, Blackety.
While I thought
about what to write,
my father thought
something was wrong.
Re-elect Lamar Johnson?!
Why're you campaigning
for this guy?
Because my daddy
supported his daddy
when he was
city councilman,
and now I am just carrying
on the tradition.
But you're hardly home as it is.
Who gonna take
care of the house?
That look means,
"Ain't you got two hands?"
Baby, don't worry.
The campaign will be over soon
then everything will be
back to normal.
I don't know why you want
to be involved with this guy.
He's nothing but a
crook and a womanizer.
Julius, would you
quit being jealous.
He is not a crook.
I've know him
since I was a teenager.
So, even Saddam Hussein
had friends.
(knocking at door)
Could you get that?
(knocking continues)
Thank you, baby.
Julius, ha-ha!
Good to see you,
my brother.
Hope you plan to
vote next week.
Yeah, I-I do.
Hope you plan to lose.
Hi, Lamar!
Rochelle, how're you doing?
Good to see you.
Look at you.
Oh, good.
Rochelle,
I want to thank you
for volunteering
to help our campaign.
Oh, not a problem, Lamar.
You know you are
like family to me.
Like play cousins.
My mother saw a councilman,
but my father saw this:
Rochelle, baby,
Daddy needs you to get on out
there with your fine self
and get Daddy them votes.
Aw! But Daddy, it's raining
cats and dogs out there.
Cats... (chuckles)
Girl, you better
get on out there
and go on
that campaigning.
Get on out there.
Vote for Daddy.
Vote for Daddy.
Uh, so can I pick
these up later?
Oh, yeah, you know what,
I'll get started on them now.
Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.
What about dinner?
Oh, baby, can't we order
Chinese food?
Well, who gonna pay
for this Chinese food?
Uh, I can pay you
with my undying gratitude.
Well, can you
pay me back with $13.43?
(muffled grumbling):
Julius...
(both laughing)
Julius, you funny, man.
Yeah.
No, you funnier.
No, you funny.
No, you really funny.
And you lucky.
I mean, you got yourself
a fine woman right here.
Yes, yes.
Don't worry, baby, I'll cook.
(clears throat, coughs)
Uh, I was going anyway.
Bye.
Listen,
don't forget to vote.
Oh, I won't.
Oh, he won't, but not for you.
(button clatters)
Oh, Julius.
Yuck!
What's the matter?
My peas are touching
my mashed potatoes.
So what?
I just hate when one food
touches another.
Baby, that's what mashed
potatoes are for.
They're like little
clumps of glue
that you use to
pick up your peas.
That's disgusting.
I could only imagine
what would've happened
if I'd tried that.
I can't eat this.
My peas are touching
my mashed potatoes.
Are they separated now?
Mm-hmm.
Chris, put that paper away.
You're just
like your daddy.
You know better
than to read at the table.
Sorry, ma-- it's just that
I'm writing an article
in the school paper
and I'm looking for ideas.
Oh, well...
why don't you write
about Councilman Johnson,
and all the wonderful things
that are happening
in the neighborhood?
Like crack?
You know what,
as a matter of fact,
I think we all should help.
Drew, you can
help me put up posters.
And Tonya,
you can hand out buttons.
I've got homework.
Yeah, and I got to read
an autobiography on Billy Ocean.
Don't even look at me.
You know, that's a shame.
People marched and had dogs
and hoses turned on them
for the right to vote, and
you guys can't even help.
Maybe you should turn
dogs and hoses on them.
Okay, fine.
I'll do it by myself.
My mother had to do it on her
own, and so did I.
How's school?
Tough, I've got to write
an article for the school paper.
Oh, you're a writer now, huh?
Well, it's just that this
is my last year
at Corleone and I think people
won't remember me
unless I do something.
Good for you.
It's great to
be a writer.
You can get your legacy started.
Legacy?
Your legacy.
Like, what people remember
you for.
Somebody should tell
Bobby Brown
about this whole
"legacy" thing.
Only problem is, I don't
know what to write about.
Well, you happen to be in luck.
I got a lot you can write about.
But you're gonna have to
tone it down a little bit,
because it's juicy.
Really?
Yeah.
You know, when I was young,
I was arealplayer.
I dated women
wherever I could find them.
Oh, yeah, I was what you'd
call a serial dater.
I went out with
thousands of women.
They all cried when I left.
But they'd all take me
back in a second.
No, I didn't know that.
I dated all the pretty
women in Syracuse.
Both of them.
Then I dated all the
pretty women in Albany.
Now we're up to three.
Then, I dated all the pretty
women in Pittsburgh.
Okay, we're back at two.
But I know it's hard
to look at old Doc
and think of me in that way,
but I'm a real lady killer.
I knew one thing for sure:
nobody at school
was writing about this.
While I was getting my story
down,
Johnson!
my mother was
getting the vote out.
Vote Johnson! Johnson!
You got it, you got it.
Johnson!
Vote for Johnson!
Vote for Johnson!
Here, vote for Johnson,
he's a great guy.
Vote for John... hey!
Wait! Wait! Wait!
Wait, wait a minute!
Wait a minute, what the
hell are you doing?!
I'm trying to prevent
the election
of this evil individual.
Lamar Johnson is not evil.
You know that since
this man has come into office,
my business has dropped 35%?
That's because the murder
rate has dropped 35%.
The whole reason
I moved to Bed-Stuy
was because
business was booming.
I couldn't keep
a casket in stock.
They were literally
flying into the ground.
You are sick.
That's why I'm going
to do everything
in my power to get
him re-elected.
I'm going to do everything
in my power to get him defeated.
What?! Wait a minute now.
If you're not voting
for Johnson,
who are you voting for?
Himelfarb?
Abe Himelfarb,
who owns the pawn shop?
With Himelfarb in office,
everything will fall
naturally into place.
Over my dead body!
That would be tragic,
but if it were to happen,
you can rest assured
I'll give Mr. Julius
a nice discount.
You... you just stay away
from my posters.
Vote for Johnson!
Vote for John...
Hey! Hey!
Wait! Stop that man!
Stop him!
Wait! Wait!
When I turned in my story,
Lisa read me the riot act.
You call yourself a writer?
This is the worst
story I've ever read.
I just wasted
20 minutes of my life.
Do you know how many trees
died for you to write this?
You're destroying
the ozone layer.
People are gonna get cancer.
Okay, okay, I get it.
So what's wrong with it?
Everything--
who wants to read
about some crusty
old ghetto Romeo?
Well, you told me write
about something I know,
and I know this guy.
Well, if this
is the best you can do,
maybe you should think
about doing something else.
Like the Chess Club?
Go!
(cheering)
I wonder if there's
a Checkers Club.
Lisa hated my story,
so I showed it to Ms. Morello,
who loved anything black.
Lisa's right, this isn't good.
What's wrong with it?
Chris, there's nothing worse
than racial stereotypes.
We've seen this
a thousand times.
The tall, shirtless Black man,
his ebony pecs
glistening with sweat
from working in the fields.
His furrowed brow
filled with savage lust.
Where was I?
I think you were talking
about racial stereotypes.
Oh, right.
I want to read
about the real Black men
who walk the gritty streets
of the hood.
People like Super Fly,
the Mack, Black Belt Jones,
Truck Turner and Blacula.
Tell me the truth
about the pimps
and the hustlers,
the violence...
all set to a jazzy beat!
Oh, there's a jazzy beat
I want to give her,
right upside the head.
Everyone else hated my article,
but I knew I could count
on Greg for support.
It's horrible, dude.
I've only been to your
neighborhood twice,
and even I have more
exciting stories.
Well, I don't know
what to write about,
'cause everything they're
asking for doesn't exist.
That's the wrong
attitude.
What do you mean?
Do you want to be remembered
for being something more
than just a human pinata?
Yeah.
Do you want to
have something
under your picture
in the yearbook?
Yeah.
Then give the
people what they want.
I thought journalism
was supposed
to be about
reporting the facts,
but what I found out is that
people don't always
want the facts.
So I decided to givethe people
what they want.
I took Doc's story
about being a lady killer,
and dropped the word "lady."
OMAR:
Who do you want to beat?
CROWD:
Johnson!
OMAR:
When do you want to beat him?
Now!
When I say, "Johnson,"
you say, "Fool." Johnson!
CROWD:
Fool!
Johnson!
What is that noise?
That's Mr. Omar.
He's having
an anti-Johnson rally.
When do you want
to beat him?
What?!
When I say, "Johnson," you
say, "Fool"-- Johnson!
Fool!
Johnson!
Oh! J...
Who do you
want to beat?
Johnson!
ROCHELLE:
Tonya, tap your butt on
downstairs and lock the door.
Go on, now!
...you say,
"Fool." Johnson!
CROWD:
Fool!
Johnson!
Fool!
Hey, hey, don't
listen to that fool.
Johnson is a good man.
He's cleaning up our streets!
Vote Johnson!
What kind of councilman got
people campaigning for him
hollering out of windows?!
Vote for Himelfarb!
How you gonna
vote for somebody, and you can't
even spell their name?!
Vote Johnson!
We can't spell his name, 'cause
Johnson ruined the schools.
Vote for Himelfarb!
When I say, "Himel,"
you say "Farb"-- Himel!
Farb!
Himel!
Farb!
Well, at least
Johnson ain't locked
out of his own
damn house!
When I say, "Locked,"
you say, "Out"-- Locked!
CROWD:
Out!
Locked!
Out!
That's what he is.
Hey, wait, wait, wait, wait!
Where you going?
Where you going? Come on!
Himelfarb will open doors
that's been shut.
He will put a chicken
in every pot.
After I changed my story,
everyone else changed theirs.
Oh, Chris!
Oh!
My brilliant
little Alex Haley.
So, did you like the story?
Like it? I love it!
The Scissor Killer?!
I wouldn't step
foot in Bed-Stuy
for all the money
in the world.
That's how most people feel.
It was so
frightening!
So real!
The truth leapt off the page.
The truth jumped off a cliff.
So, are you going to publish it?
Are you kidding?
After this story,
no one at this school
will ever forget you, Chris.
But that's just
the beginning.
This Scissor Killer has got
to be stopped,
atthe Brooklyn Crier, and
they published it, too! Look!
(exhales loudly)
Because of you,
they're going to bring
this man to justice.
Because of me,
they're gonna waste their time.
CHRIS ROCK:
I wanted to be remembered,
and this was something
people were never going
to forget.
Brooklyn was paralyzed
with fear.
There was fear
in the beauty shop.
"Put the knife to her and..."
(all gasping)
There was fear
in the barbershop.
There was even fear
in the gutter.
* All our times have come
There was only one man
who was happy.
(laughing)
* Here but now they're gone...
Now that's what
I'm talking about.
(wheezing laugh)
The Brooklyn Crier is working
in conjunction
with local authorities
to determine the whereabouts
of a man known only
as The Scissor Killer.
The Scissor Killer was brought
to the attention of the Crier
by this Corleone Junior
High School student after...
Rochelle, good God,
have you seen the stories?
I just saw it on TV.
(stammering):
This is a... a...
(stammering)
Oh, this is a disaster!
Can you believe what this is
going to do to the community?
I mean, why would you let
your son Chris write a story
like this when I'm trying
to get reelected?
What? You're worried about
being reelected when my son
is out there
about to be
snipped to death by
a scissor killer?!
Is that what you
saying to me?!
Uh, n-no, no.
Yes!
I'm saying
what would people think
if I'm allowing a
serial killer to roam
the neighborhood?!
I hadn't seen spin like that
since Usher battled Omarion.
I don't know
if you noticed or not,
but ain't nobody
in the neighborhood
except that killer
and my baby!
My story had pulled the wool
over the community's eyes,
but Doc's eyes
weren't woolly at all.
Who keeps taking
these posters down?
Now, Chris, let me see
if I understand this correctly.
The killer
came over here
and spontaneously
confessed to you
about his murderous
past in Syracuse,
Albany and Pittsburgh.
Is that about right?
Yeah, if by right,
you mean wrong.
Yeah, kind of.
Oh, what part of
that did I get wrong?
The part about the killer
coming out here.
Chris, you've got this
whole neighborhood terrified.
Ain't nobody
on the streets.
Ain't nobody out here, ain't
nobody coming in the store.
I'm sorry; it's just that
I want to be remembered.
Chris, you can't base
your legacy on lies.
Now, you got to go and
tell somebody what you did.
Walking home,
I couldn't help thinking
that my street was usually
filled with life,
and now it was an empty
wasteland, all because of me.
I felt worse
than food poisoning.
Little dude from across
the street... come here, man.
Man, what you
doing out there?
Don't you know there's
a killer on the streets?
Nah, I'll be all right.
Let me hold a dollar.
* The people getting angry...
Be safe out here.
Did I just get mugged
from a window?
Not only was Brooklyn filled
with fear,
it was filled with reporters.
WOMAN:
Today, the streets of
Bedford Stuyvesant are deserted.
All of the murderers,
rapists and Black people
who normally populate
these streets
are behind
closed doors.
And yet, it
is no safer,
because of one man--
the Scissor Killer.
There's the young man
that-that broke the story.
Let's see if we can get a word.
Young man... what we... how...
Can you tell us any
more about the killer?
What kind of sweat
socks did he use?
How did you get away?
How did you get him...?
The thing I was most afraid of
was telling my parents
I'd made up the story.
I couldn't think
of anything worse.
(overlapping chatter)
Hello, worse.
Oh, my God, Chris,
where have you been?!
I was so worried
about you!
Your daddy is
on his way home.
This detective wants
to talk to you.
If you're Black,
that's a sentence
you never want to hear.
Listen, Chris, we need a
description of the killer.
Give me a second
to make one up.
Well, he's Black,
um, five-two,
light skin, uh, afro?
He stopped listening
after Black.
What's going on?
There he is!
On the floor, now!
ROCHELLE:
No! No! No, no, no, no, no!
Hey! Oh, oh, oh!
You're going
to fry for this one!
Hey! Chris!
ROCHELLE:
You got the wrong person!
No, no, no! That's my father.
He's not a killer!
How do you know?
If I didn't tell the truth,
there was going
to be an obituary.
'Cause there is
no killer.
What?!
You better explain
yourself, Chris.
I made it up.
When I handed in my story
to the school newspaper,
they said it was so dull that
they wouldn't even print it,
so I made the story a little bit
more interesting to read.
I'm sorry.
There's a gun pointing at
your daddy's head right now,
and you're sorry?
Lamar Johnson's
campaign
is falling apart,
and you're sorry.
People are running
around this neighborhood
just scared to death,
and you're sorry.
Boy, you don't know
what sorry is.
I'm going to ask you
one more time, ma'am:
Do you know this man?
Yes! That's my husband,
for God sakes!
Son,
you've got a knack
for inventing evidence.
You might want to consider
a career in law enforcement.
In a moment,
I might need a cop myself.
All I did was stretch the truth.
Oh, that's a
coincidence,
'cause I'm about to
stretch your behind.
Get upstairs!
After my mother
set me straight,
I had to set
the story straight.
You made it up?
Well, I'm sorry.
I was just giving the people
what they want.
Oh, this is
just great.
All the real killers
running around Bed-Stuy, and you
had to make one up.
That's just lazy.
What else did you make up?
Is your real
name Chris?
Are you
even Black?
Who knows?
This is so disappointing.
You're the first
Black writer in the
school's history.
I was the first Black
everything
in the school's history.
You reach reporter status,
and you make up your story?
What will your
people think of you?
(Caruso sighs)
You just had to lie,
didn't you, Aesop?
Hey, dude.
So, I gave the people what
they want, and now look at me.
Sometimes people don't
like what they want
after they get it.
I wonder if he'll want my foot
in his behind
after he gets that.
I got the yearbook.
I learned a couple of important
things from this whole fiasco.
Number one,
I learned the word legacy.
Number two, people are suckers
for a serial
Scissor Killer story.
And C-- hey, I could write.
But best of all,
I finally did get
something written
under my school
yearbook picture.
* Everybody hates Chris.