Marlon

What's up, party people?

Everybody that knows me

knows I'm a sucker for tradition.

For example, every Super Bowl Sunday,

I host my very own halftime wing-eating contest.

It's not a contest if you're the only one eating.

Shut up and watch the game.

And every February 14th,

I like to sit and watch "The Notebook"

with my valentine.

Why would her mom hide the letters?

And every year on her birthday,

I call my mama and I tell her I love her.

Happy birthday, Mom.

I love you.

Mom, you've got to stop poking me on Facebook.

Girl, I'm going to unfollow you.

I'm not being disrespectful.

Yes, ma'am.

Why do I do this?

Because I love traditions.

There go my best friend.

There she is, all single and beautiful.

Come here, girl.

Bring it in, baby.

Come on.

Yvette, I'm fine.

Oh, you don't got to be brave.

It's your first anniversary since the divorce.

You want to talk about it?

Maybe open a bottle of wine?

No, I don't need any wine.

I just want to, you know, finish doing...

How the hell do you do that so fast?

I know my way around a cork, baby.

Mm-hmm.

Well, Yvette, I appreciate your concern,

but today is just another day.

I'm not going to be sad, I'm not going to think about it,

and I'm not going to make any plans.

Yvette, get out. We got plans.

Hey, babies.

How you doing?

Marlon, what plans do we have?

Come on, do I need to refresh your memory?

Hater bridesmaids.

Drunken pastor,

and your uncle splitting his pants

getting low doing the Tootsie Roll.

Yes, Marlon, it's our wedding anniversary.

Yeah, see. Come on.

I mean, we don't have to do the same traditions

that we used to do when we were married.

Like, you know, my sexy underwear dance,

which leads to my sexy no underwear dance,

which leads to your sexy no underwear dance,

and then we'd have a butt-naked dance off.

That was weird. Why did we do that?

But you got to admit, my windmills was real dope.

Come on, I know we can't do that,

but I did make dinner reservations at Miccello's.

Uh, excuse me.

Can I address the elephant in the room?

Oh, snap. When did your mama get here?

Hey, Ms. Brown.

You're divorced, weirdo.

What kind of deranged stalker Muppet

takes his ex-wife out to celebrate their anniversary?

It's creepy.

Muppet?

I know your "Fraggle Rock" looking ass ain't talking.

Let me ask you, what are you and your ex-husband

doing for y'all anniversary?

Nothing. Why?

Because you got to have a man in order to lose a man, right?

Okay, Marlon. She's right.

Oh, come on, Ash.

Come on, this is our tradition.

We recreate our first date.

You know, dinner at Miccello's,

walking along the Santa Monica pier,

trying to cop my first feel on the Ferris wheel.

Marley, you're in charge.

I'm in charge? Zack, go to bed.

Why does she get to be in charge?

Boy, you heard your sister. Get your ass to bed.

Zack!

Zack, I'm in charge, okay?

And Marlon, divorced people

don't celebrate their anniversary.

It's like a dead person celebrating their birthday.

Oh, that's a good idea.

Dead guy birthday.

Put that in my will.

But don't put me in a coffin.

Just lean me on a wall real cool like this.

Damn it.

Just my luck.

I don't have jury duty tomorrow.

- You like jury duty? - You kidding?

15 bucks a day, free coffee, and a real-life whodunit?

Whoo, sign me up.

What are you talking about?

Listen, Stevie, black people don't do that, okay?

We don't do swimming pools past the stairs.

We don't do ice hockey, or any hockey for that matter.

And we damn sure don't do jury duty,

because we're scared they're going to put our black ass

on the stand and say,

"Hey, this is about you. You under arrest."

I was going to brush up on my juror's manual tonight,

but since I'm free, I guess I'll just join you guys

for your anniversary shindig.

Oh, my God, there's not going to be a shindig.

- Marlon's being crazy. - I'm being crazy?

You're being crazy if you're trying to kill this tradition.

Ash, we've been recreating our first date for 16 years.

Marlon, since you're so into traditions,

now that we're divorced, how about we start a new one?

One where we're honest about that first date.

Fine, I'll be honest.

It was fly, you was all up on a brother, boom.

I put a ring on it.

Marlon, it was a mess.

It was a template for our entire marriage.

Ah, two sides of a story.

If only there was a time-tested method

of arbitrating such a dispute.

Talking about a jury, y'all.

Yes, a jury.

You guys will hear the testimony,

and then we'll decide, was our first date,

indeed, the bomb, which it was.

Kids, get on over here.

You are about to experience the unbridled intoxication

of the judicial process.

That sounds corny as hell.

Marlon, you sure you want to do this?

Yeah, I'm sure I want to do this.

If I win, we're going to dinner.

- Mm-hmm. - And if you win...

well, pfft, you ain't going to win.

Fine, but the facts.

Not the way you've been spinning it all these years.

We are going to tell them the real version

of what happened on that first date.

Oh, come on, Ash.

They don't need to hear all that nasty stuff.

They're still babies.

Remember, we must all be impartial and objective.

Even you, Yvette.

I can be objective,

even though I'm sure the dummy did something dumb.

You shut up with that tacky peach dress,

looking like a damn well-dressed Snicker.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

court is now in session.

Let me set the scene for you.

It was 1997.

"Titanic" was in the movie theaters,

and Leonardo DiCaprio just got his,

oh, white boy-can-get-it card from the sisters.

So I rolled in to Miccello's

in my mustard-colored Oak Tree suit, looking fly.

Shh, shh, shh, shh.

You know, when I first saw these roses,

I said to myself, "These are beautiful."

But then myself said,

"These roses are garbage compared to that girl's beauty."

But then self said, "Marlon, buy them anyway,

for she knows not her own beauty."

And I said, "Damn, self. You've been reading."

You had me at "self."

Let's go knock some boots.

Stop. Pause.

Timeout.

Roses and smooth talk?

I'm still listening.

You sound like a real player, Dad.

Don't form an opinion until both sides make their case,

but legally speaking, that was stone-cold player.

Here's how the date actually began.

He was a hot mess.

You good?

Don't worry, you ain't got that long to live anyway.

Hey, how you doing, shorty doo-wop?

I'm sorry I'm looking all busted,

but my A/C in my car's broken

and my windows don't roll down.

You're 40 minutes late.

I figured I'd give you time to miss me.

Oh, here.

I bought you something.

I was going to get you roses,

but my hookup on the freeway off-ramp, he was fresh out.

And I was like, "Damn, Paco."

So it was either oranges or candles de Jesus.

And it's hard to get busy with, you know, Jesus like this.

Kind of creepy, you know.

Damn, I'm sweaty.