Kris Kross: The Lost Years
"Do I know you from somewhere?"
No, you Applebees punk. You were five years old. You don't fucking know me.
"I don't think so. I'll have a Blue Moon, and my wife would like a Main Street 'Rita."
"Seriously man, like, ah, a VH1 thing? Were you on the Urkel show? Or, like, a music--"
Mac Daddy slams his menu closed. Deborah is startled.
"This guy's a racist, Deborah."
"Nononono man, I'm so sorry, I wasn't trying to say--"
"Chris, I don't think he meant anything by it."
Mac Daddy stands up and gives the teenager a hard stare.
"The guy's a racist, Deborah. We're leaving."
2010. Daddy Mac was up all night going over the Powerpoint presentation for Kris Kross: Make My Video 2. Why is he being such a hardass? They've known each other for years.
"Look, it's a double comeback. Kris Kross and Sega CD, both back in the big time. It can't miss, Irv."
"Every month with this shit. I'm tellin' ya for the last time, Daddy Mac. Nobody wants Kris Kross anymore. The kids today, they want Justin God-Damn Beaver's Make My Video."
"But Irv," Mac protests. "Just gimme one more chance here. We're gonna do this thing together."
"Listen up, you little shit," the executive explodes. "I'm the last god-damned Sega CD executive in the business, and I don't stick my neck out for nobody."
2012. Shit. Deborah is home early.
Mac Daddy yanks off his belt and struggles to jerk the pant legs past his boots. No time to unlace. Shit, shit, shit.
"Chris? Are you home?"
"Just a minute! I'm just--"
One pant leg is off, inside-out, but the boot has jerked free and is stuck within it. Chris shakes it like a dog snapping a rabbit's neck. The boot thumps on the wall. He flips his jeans around and yanks them up. The cuff won't slip past the remaining boot. His pants are right-way around when the door opens, but they're only up to his hips.
Deborah stands incredulous in the doorway. She looks at the TV. It's a video, on mute, of something distantly familiar. Could it be an old Sprite commercial?
"What were you doing in here, Chris?"
She would never understand. She can't know. She'd leave me, she'd take the kids.
"Chris, have you been crying?"