“That fat bitch die?’

Oh, this is gonna go well.

“Bitch carried that purse with her so she could steal from buffet tables.”

Please stop talking about Aretha Franklin that way.

“Didn’t care for her. Sang too much. Leave some notes for the rest of the world.”

Mr. Davis, Aretha’s voice–

BANG!

What!?

“Her name is Miss Franklin. You respect that fat bitch.”

You’re just all over the place today.

“That gospel shit. ‘Love you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Lemme suck on your nuts, Jesus.’ Bunch of bullshit crackers taught the black man to keep him happy in poverty. ‘Blessed are the meek.’ What the fuck kind of pussy bullshit is that? ‘Turn the other cheek.’ You ain’t even gonna hit me on my first cheek, you mayonnaise-dicked bog dweller.”

I take it you’re not a Christian.

“Used to get dragged to church when I was a kid. Hated that shit. Preacher in his tacky fucking suit mopping his stinky head. Could smell him from the pews. Always talking about getting saved. From who? Only motherfucker I need saving from is the white man.”

I guess.

“And the Jew.”

Saw that coming. Did you ever consider another religion?

“Like what?”

Um…

“Say it, motherfucker.”

Uhh…

BANG!

Nation of Islam?

“Saw that bullshit coming, too, you racist motherfucker.”

It was very big when you were around.

“Hell, no. Fuck them bean pie-eating motherfuckers. You gonna tell Miles Davis he can’t drink his Heineken and sniff his cocaine? The fuck did Allah make it for, then? Hell, no, I wasn’t no fucking Nation of Islam motherfucker. I used to donate some money, though.”

Why?

“White people hated ’em so much that I figured they must be doing something right.”

Can’t argue with that.

“No, you can’t, you dumb fucking cracker.”

Always a pleasure, Mr. Davis.

“I know.”