Black-ish

Andre Johnson, Jr.:
[describing when he was spanked] It was the Thursday of a leap year. The air was crisp, the sky was blue, and the belt was black!

Jack Johnson:
I don't want to hear any more!

Andre Johnson, Jr.:
Not even about the color of my tears? They were red!

Jack Johnson:
Aaaah!

Zoey Johnson:
Okay. Don't be mean. He's scared.

Andre Johnson, Jr.:
He should be. It's terrifying. I mean, not for me. I'm too old to be spanked. I've aged out.

Pops:
Where'd you hear that, Junior?

Andre Johnson, Jr.:
Well, I mean, I'm 13 now. That means I'm out of the whupping window.

Pops:
Yeah, but you still have an ass, don't you? That means you're still in the window.

Diane Johnson:
My research shows we have legal options: emancipation, extrication, and if all else fails, relocation.

Pops:
Damn, Diane, I wish I had you when I divorced Grandma. Might've held on to my Lincoln.

Andre Johnson, Jr.:
You're just messing with me, right? I mean, nobody's going to spank a ninth-grader, right?

Pops:
What's age got to do with it? I spanked your daddy when he came home for the summer from college. He was all "Oh, I'm in college now! Listen to how smart my mouth is!" I was like POP!

Zoey Johnson:
Okay, come on, Pops! We all know no one spanks anymore.

Pops:
Oh, well look who's sitting there all cocky thinking she's safe 'cause she's a girl. Whupping don't care what you are. An ass is an ass is an ass is an ass. POP!

Pops:
So what should I wear to the whupping? Black 'cause it's a somber occasion? White 'cause you're whupping virgin ass?

Pops:
Dre! Can I talk to you for a minute?

Andre 'Dre' Johnson:
Yeah, what's up, Pops?

Pops:
I want to show you something. Recognize this?

Andre 'Dre' Johnson:
Oh my God, is that that piece of Hot Wheels track you used to beat me with?

Pops:
Mmm-hmmm.

Andre 'Dre' Johnson:
You kept that all these years, huh?

Pops:
Every time I got ready to throw it out you'd do something stupid. Relax, son, I want you to have it. It's really the perfect thing. There's nothing better than beating someone with something they love.

Andre 'Dre' Johnson:
Jack does not love that, Pops. Hell, kids don't even play with those anymore.

Pops:
Well, beat him with something I love. Now I love this because I used to beat you with it.

Andre 'Dre' Johnson:
How many White Russians have you had?

Pops:
Irrelevant, but a lot.

Rainbow Johnson:
If I'm not black, then would someone please tell my hair and my ass?

Bippy Barnes:
[giving her a hammer] Dolly, go collect on the markers on from today's bangtail races.

Dolly:
With pleasure.

Bippy Barnes:
[slapping some money on the table] Jolly, go buy me a bag of bullets.

Jolly:
.45s for the Tommy?

Bippy Barnes:
You bet your sweet Bippy. [turns to a flapper] Where were...

Rainbow Johnson:
Hold on: you're saying "you bet your sweet bippy" came from a bookie named Bippy?

Pops:
Who's telling the story?

Bea:
I swear one of these days that thing's gonna tip over and kill me.

Drexler Johnson:
You know what, Bea? You and the rest of the girls should organize into a group and demand safer working conditions.

Bea:
Wow, I never thought of...

Zoey Johnson:
Hold on: you're saying our great-great-grandfather invented unions?

Pops:
Who is telling the story?

Janitor:
Me, I'll never get into the Savoy. Too dark to pass the paper bag test. But my old roomie Langston get in with no problem. Old caramel-colored bastard nabbed some fancy book deal writing about raisins in the sun; got that from me. Love putting stuff in the sun: raisins, damp socks, uncured bacon. It's probably why I'm so dark. The sun, man. That crazy fireball don't play. You stay light-skinned out there, boy.

Andre Johnson, Jr.:
Hold on: you're saying Langston Hughes plagiarized an insane janitor who lived under a train?

Pops:
Who? Is? Telling? This? Story?

Pops:
It all went down in the year of Our Lord 19 and 27 during the Harlem Renaissance...

Jack Johnson:
Oh those dudes are hilarious with their trick dunks and the confetti bucket!

Drexler Johnson:
Hi.

Zora:
Yeah, yeah, hold your horses. I'll get your coat in a jiff.

Drexler Johnson:
I didn't bring a coat.

Zora:
Coat thief, huh? Okay, here's how it goes: you can pinch up to three furs. We'll split the fence 50/50.

Drexler Johnson:
What? No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I figured a hardworking girl like you stuck in this sweat box smelling like dead fox deserves some ice.

Zora:
Now we're talking. I've been looking to score a good diamond heist.

Drexler Johnson:
No, not that kind of ice. [puts a huge piece of ice in her tip tray] Ice ice, baby.