Because I’m Dave Chappelle

I didn’t even like— I didn’t even want to press charges. This has happened to me before. No, seriously. Not a banana. I live in Ohio, right? -So, this was a few winters ago.

Oh, I didn’t know you would ever clap for that. Well, all right. That’s the first time that shit’s ever happened. “Ohio?!” Anyway… I live amongst the whites. Small town in Ohio. And it was wintertime, and it had snowed recently, so there’s huge snowdrifts on the street. I was walking with my sister. Now, my sister was dressed in all Muslim garb, as were her children, and I was dressed as Dave Chappelle. And we were walking and just talking about something, and a car sped around the corner, and the window came down, and somebody threw a snowball and hit me right in my shoulder. [thud]

I didn’t know what was going on. Why was this happening? Because I’m black? Because she’s Muslim? Because I’m Dave Chappelle? I couldn’t tell. But, again, I knew it was premeditated. Because who the fuck has a snowball in a warm car? But he didn’t think it all the way through, lady. Because he went around the corner and got stopped at a red light. He was caught in the traffic. So, I ran out into the street, and I just tapped on his window. [thumping] “My man, could I just talk to you guys for a second? Come on out for one second. I just want to talk to you.”

There’s four young white dudes in the car. They’re like, “Just chill, bro.” I said, “Relax. I just want to talk.” Now, this is an old black trick. Really, I didn’t want to talk. I was gonna fuck ’em up. So, if you’re ever caught in traffic, and a black guy starts saying he just wants to talk to you, don’t open the door. Even if he’s me, smiling at you. And they were like, “Chill, bro. Just chill.” And the one guy in the back seat— I don’t know what, he was just cockier than his friends. He was like, “Fuck it, man! I’ll get out the car!” And I started yanking on his door. “Let me help you, motherfucker. Let me just help you out.” And I didn’t notice his window was down. And he threw a snowball, that shit hit me right in my chest. Pow! He said, “Fuck you, you fucking nigger!” And then the light turned green and they sped off. And I smiled from ear to ear. I looked at my sister, and she said, “I got the plates.” And I was happy as shit because throwing a snowball at a motherfucker is a misdemeanor assault. But if you call him a nigger when you do it, that’s a felony hate crime. And me and my sister start dancing. “We’re gonna send this motherfucker to jail!”

I didn’t notice it, but while I was yelling at him, a crowd of all-white people had formed, ’cause it was an all-white town. And I was like, “Uh-oh.” I thought I was gonna get jumped. Then one of them white guys stepped up and was like, “I didn’t like that at all. This is not what this town represents. I don’t want this goddamn stuff in my vicinity.” And another white guy was like, “Yeah! I didn’t like it, either!” And then an old white guy stepped out of the crowd and said, “Young man, if you’re going to fill out a police report, I would like to come with you and do the same.” I said, “You guys would do that for me?” And the whole crowd said, “Hooray!” I said, “Come on, y’all!”

I looked like Malcolm X going to see Brother Johnson with a trail of white people. Unreal. An hour later, we were all sitting in the police station, and the police came in. They were like, “Well, Mr. Chappelle… sixteen identical police reports. We ran the tags. Two young men that had their mother’s car. We have all four suspects in holding, and the mother is here. It’s up to you. Whatever you want to do. If you want to press charges, we’ll move forward. Mr. Chappelle, are you okay?”

“Huh? Sorry about that, Officer. I’m a little flustered. I’ve never been in a position where I could decide the fate of white children before. But… it’s weighing heavy on me, sir. And I really can’t decide.”

And I saw a lady pacing back and forth in the hallway, and I said, “Is that—” He goes, “Yes, that’s their mother.” “Can I speak to her before I make a decision?” And when the mom came in and she saw it was me, she busted out crying. “Oh, God. Oh, no. I don’t want him to go to jail. I am so sorry. I didn’t raise him to do this. We love your comedy. We love you at the house.” I said, “Miss, please, just— All right, look. I don’t necessarily want your son to go to jail, either. But what he did was pretty fucked up. So, is there is there something we can do, short of jail, just to let him know that he’s wrong?”

She said, “I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

“Miss, I’ve never been in this position before. Oh, you know what we could do? I don’t know if I’m asking too much. But maybe if you— if you could just… suck my dick a little bit. Just a little bit. I’m not gonna finish. I just want you to do it enough so that I can tell him you did it.”

I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I wouldn’t do that to anybody’s mother. Maybe my kid’s mom, but that’s it.