Black Church, Part 6

Reverend Kimble must be back on crack, poor thing…..



You didn’t know Rev used to be on the pipe?


Oh, that’s right, I forgot, y’all White. Y’all got them educated preachers, y’all make sure of that. Send ‘em to seminary, make ‘em take theology classes, learn the Greek and the Hebrew all that good stuff…


Not us!


As far as Black folk is concerned, the only book a preacher need to know is the Book.


That’s right, the Bible, and plenty of it.


It aint to say that a preacher can’t be educated, but it aint necessary. What we look for in a preacher is what’s called “The Call.”


What did you say?


Uh-huh, that’s what I figured. You don’t know, do you?


If you gotta ask, you’ll never know.


But, since I’m the H.N.I.C., I must make an attempt to explain it, or at least try…




“The Call” is when God looks down and picks somebody to preach for Him, theoretically the most lo-down Negro He can find. God washes him up, and puts His Word in his mouth, and generally spruces the boy up so he won’t make God shame.

(The proper word is “ashamed,” I know, but BlackSpeak is succinct by default.)


We accept the preacher’s word for it, God’s calling and all, but we keep an eye on him for a year or so, until the proof kick in. Like, how he act when he walk down the street, and he catch a whiff of Jimmy Bivens’ fresh-rolled blunt. What do he do?




If he keep on steppin’, he’s okay. Preach on, Brother, preach on!




If he stop….and lift one finger in the air…and tiptoe into the alley…?


Uh…Bro-Man better get another dip.




Oh, you’re not about to make me explain that, are you?


Here! Look @ this clip, and you’ll get it:


I hope.


Now, how do I know for certain Rev is back on crack?


Well, for one thing, crack is a powerfully addicting drug, more addicting than sex, or even chocolate.


Okay, I did go a bit far.


Chocolate beats crack 2–1, in a blind taste test.


Now, chocolate crack?


Forget it! You can lay hands, anoint with baby oil, do whatever you wanna do, if a  nigga get hooked on chocolate crack?


He do a drive-by on the whole church, for a hit of chocolate crack!


Chocolate crack, chocolate crack….make you break yo momma’s back!


Okay, I quit….


Heck, just the idea of chocolate crack makes my mouth water….


See how hard it is to quit?




Any-WAY, Rev is drooling, right in the middle of his sermon. That’s what he used to do, when he was pimpin’ on Elmore street, right by the Greyhound Bus station.




Yes, Autumn, Rev used to exploit young African-American females adjacent to the urban transportation modality center, ask your mother, if you don’t believe me.


Now, quit interrupting!


Rev used to wear this long fur coat, rabbit or possum, I don’t know which, but it was long and stank.

Not “stunk,” not “stinking”……. stank!



See, Rev used to be in love with Ma’am Shuckey, she run the ho-house on the south side, and she have Rev covering her bases on the north side.


Rev…well, he wasn’t Rev yet, he was Sweet Henry then…


Just keep up.


BlackSpeak take a lot of twists and turns, you just gotta keep up.


Sweet Henry, he hang around the bus station, wait on the New Orleans express to drop off White girls that be running away from home. Well, they headed for the French Quarter, but they chicken out and jump off. Sweet Henry, he sees ‘em going over to the pay phone, trying to call home, but he don’t do nothing just yet. He’s slick like that.

He let ‘em try, two, three times, but they can’t get through, ’cause Henry done gummed up the phone with a plug of super glue.

Yeah, I told you he was slick!

So, he wait till he see ‘em crying and carrying on, then he come in all smooth and smiling, offer to make the call for them, “…just give me yo’ daddy’s number, I’ll talk to him for ya, cher, don’t you worry, Sweet Henry make it all right…” and, well, before it’s over with, little Becky going ’round the world for a Benjy.

Like I said, God looking for a low-down nigga to turn around…




That means she’s going to provide extensive sexual favors for $100.


Got it?


Henry steer ‘em over to Ma’am Shuckey’s, trying to buy Ma’am Shuckey’s love, ’cause he in love with Ma’am Shuckey.


Think about it for a minute, you’ll figure it out. Ask the Psychology majors, they can explain it better than I can.

You white people make everything complicated. Geez!


Ma’am Shuckey, she got Henry wearing that nutria rat coat, she told him he look cute in it, he keep it on 24-7. What he don’t know is, she got powder shook all on the inside, powder made Henry fall in love, and that powder keep him in love.


It’s just some Dr. Scholls’ with a little baking soda mixed in, but she don’t know that.


Don’t say nothing to her about it, y’hear?


Mr. Piroq, he sell that schit for a love powder, but he buys it from the drug store, mostly for his wife’s feet.

Her feet stank, too.


She sit on the third pew, and I think her feet is why they call it a pew.


Her feet be funky, and she be having the nerve to shout in that pew. Damn!


Anyway, Rev is drooling, like he used to do at the bus station, keep a rag near his mouth to catch the spit. When he straight, it aint too bad, but when he backslide? His lips be juicy as a watermelon…





Relapse, Autumn, Winter, whatever the hell yo’ name is, relapse!!!


Git yo’ azz outta my class!


Got me talkin’ Eubonics an’ schit! Get out!!!


Class dismissed…er…the doors of the church are open……..




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