The Martin Lawrence Fetish

Leather Face or Big Momma? You decide.

Hattie Mae Pierce (Big Momma) adjusts herself in the mirror, tending to whatever she deems out of place with two hands like glove mitts. Inside of her, a black man sweats, not just from the heat but from the beauty he is gazing at - and through her very own eyes! Owl eyes. Beautiful. Finding herself acceptable, she wattles out through the door, adjusting her hat in the open doorway before proceeding through it - dignified, beautiful, enormously fat. Inside of her a black man is smiling, he's never felt so comfortable in all his life. Its the third time around, and the suit feels less like a nuisance (not that it ever was) and more like a part of him, like a new skin. Hattie Mae walks through the hall with squishy shoes its important to preach the word of God. Martin Lawrence walks insides her, with her, he is her. I'm finally. . . finally. . . the fat chafing, the smell of shit veiled by the scent of talcum powder. I'm . . . She walks down the hall, belly fat touching both walls, she reaches its end and squeezes through another door, out onto a sound stage. She's filming the upcoming-greatest-movie-ever, Big Mommas House 3. The lights in the rafters are like bright coins, shining so bright and promising they are blinding. She shields her eyes and looks around the place like a prospector judging the land, scanning and measuring up all those around her to be hills or mountains very few mountains. Inside Martin does the same, but he's only measuring up the women she's nice, I'd fuck her, and her, oh good to see she's back for the third go round, what was her name again? and ooooooh guuurlll you got it goin' onnnn.

"Well isn't this quite the lil' shin-dig yall got goin' here. . . and all for Big Mommmaaa." She says in a syrupy southern accent, her lily voice only slightly rough and manly. She smiles its just like the days back with the congregation, plenty of work to be done, plenty of people that need savin', look they're all reachin' out for a little help from Big Momma. Inside, Martin smiles just like the King of Comedy days, wet sluts itchin' for my black anaconda everywhere I look. I'm still in the spotlight. . . I'm still. . . funny.

"Ha that's good Martin, but can we be serious for a moment?" A producer asks. I can't stand him. Look at him, bastard still thinks he's funny. Carrying on like he's a old obese woman - freak - I'm just glad I just have to produce the movies and don't have to actually watch them. . . What trash.

"What chile'? Big Momma is serious, you can ba-lieve-that." Big Momma was serious, and so was Martin Lawrence, who at the moment both shared the same soul, the same body. They were two beings in one very large being.

Beached Whale or Big Momma? You decide.

"Seriously, Martin we're behind as it is. . ." If I could kill him and get away with it, I would. . . The producer pleads, but Big Momma, Martin Lawrence, both of them are somewhere else. Inside his Big Momma suit, he rubs its latex skin, its giant abdomen like a crystal ball conjuring up images of the past, as clear as day, right before him:

Louisiana, 1973. Its unusually hot, considering the season. Aunt Burnell, tending to food in the kitchen, the room alive with the smell of collard greens and grease. She's a general in her kitchen, a lard dolloper, a magician who's act produces strong smells that fill the house, smells so strong they seem to linger in the air like a thick fog, heavy and menacing. Shes singing a song, with accompaniment from the sounds of cooking, pots and pans and gurgling. She looks out the window and her song ceases, her eyes caught by such a shock that she nearly drops the bowl of bubbling slop she had been seasoning. That boy sure is a work of the devil. . . It'll take quite a while to whip this horse into shape. . . But then again there is a certain look to the boy, a certain charm. . . She thunders out of the kitchen, throwing open the screen door so fiercely -whack- it hits the wall, a warning to all those outside and playing. Children scatter, but one young boy doesn't seem to notice, he's too caught up playing and using what little imagination he possesses. Chile' don't even see me, just playing there in the grass, well I'll show him, oh yes I will. . . But then again he seems so sweet, so innocent. Despite any notions to just pick him up and love him, she instead grabs him by the neck, plucking him up from the ground like a rotten turnip.

"Naw, chile', don't fight me. . . Come on now Martin, what did I tell you? a million times I've told you I've told you not to get your Sunday's best soiled so - you know how long it'll take to get these stains out? And in your church clothes too - dirtied with sin and disobedience - Its down right shameful Martin!" She raises her hand against him, striking him atop the head as if she were hammering in a rail spike. The blow produces tears from the eyes of the young boy, only eight years of age. Now chile' I don't want to harm you so, but you go up and act like a dirty vagrant - I only wish to love you boy. "Now in the house with yah!" And in the house they go -whak- the screen door slamming behind them. He sits at the kitchen table, face bunching up around the ears from the way he rests his head upon his hands. The tears still flow from his precious tiny eyes. Its always so unfair. We both know I'm not the dirty one. . . She is.

"Now Martin, you know I don't mean to hurt you, but you go off and do things I've told you not to do." She shakes her head, feeling more sorry than the boy. She thinks and tends to her food for awhile, stopping finally when she's come up with something to say. "Now chile, you just want to love Aunt Burnell don't you?" The boy nods his head in agreement I know what she's doing, buttering me up. "Well why don't you just come with Aunt Burnell and be with me in the other room? In the quiet. In the dark." The lord can't see us there. "Huh chile, huh? Could you do that?" Do I have a choice? "Yeah, that's right come with Aunt Burnell." And off they went into her room, the door closing behind them. . . That bitch. . .

"Martin?" He heard it but it seemed far off.

"Hey. . . Martin?" Closer now.

"Earth to Martin?" It was the producer. "You ok buddy?" He's finally flipped his wig, look he's even crying, you can see the tears.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He lies, his lips still trembling, his eyes still watering from the sudden memory. Keep it together, keep it together. But Martin Lawrence could not keep it together, he kept trembling, kept forgetting his lines. He was slowly unraveling, one haunting memory at a time. The crew was too, for what was a charming idea the first go round became creepy for the sequel, and now that Big Momma's House was going to be a trilogy, it was clear that this wasn't any minor gimmick, this was a habitual fetish for Martin, who was beginning to seem like a new age Norman Bates.

"Maybe that suits on too tight eh buddy?"

"Yeah." And then the world swirls, ice cream dreams melting in with reality:

In 1999, Eddie Murphy introduced Martin Lawrence to prosthetics, and from then on began a long strange saga culminating in the creation of Big Momma.

1999, after a recent filming of LIFE. Martin sits at a bar with Eddie Murphy. After many drinks Martin had just gone out and let it all out, let out all the thoughts and worries and fears of that night with Aunt Burnell. Of the pain. He's crying and drowning his tears in a tall glass of beer. Eddie Murphy laughs, his Chewbacca laugh.

"You know Martin, I had my own Aunt Burnell. . . yes a heavy set Aunt who went by the name of Ophelia, and I tell you she use to molest me every night." That wench, always squishing me and hugging me, pushing me up into her busom. "And it worked on me Martin, just like its working on you. . . But I did something and it really helped, really helped me work on those problems."

"Really?" Martin asks. Is he joking me?

"Yeah. You know what you need?"

"What?"

"A fat suit."

"A what?" He really is crazy. . .

"A fat suit!" Eddie exclaims. "I was doin' the Nutty Professor, and for it I got to wear a fat suit, and I'll tell yah - Martin, it worked wonders. I wasn't worried about it anymore, it didn't bother me. . . What better way to face your demons than to become them!" Eddie slams his beer on the table, hops splashing the table. Damn right.

"And it works?"

"Why yes, just the other day, this kid Tyler Perry comes up to me. . . Telling me a lot of the things you're telling me, Martin. About oh my aunt or my uncle or whatever abuses me." Eddie mocks. "Oh my grandma is a mad black woman. . . And I gave him the same advice I'm giving you."

Ice cream dreams melt to the present.

Eddie Murphy, Martin Lawrence, Tyler Perry, they all share a common past, a common fetish...

That desire to be a fat black woman.

iR

FURTHER RETARDATION:

Movies:

Big Momma's House: The beginning of the end...

Black Knight: Martin Lawrence travels back to medieval times. . . Kinda like a Kid in King Arthur's Court, only if the kid was a black guy from Compton. . . Also included in the movie is a love interest for Martin, another chick of African descent who plays a princess or some shit, which is entirely historically inaccurate but whatevs.

National Security: About two security guards who hate each other but become good friends at the end. Martin also plays perhaps the most racist character of his career, one who annoys you throughout the whole movie. . . Sweet ass shoot out in a soda factory however.

Bad Boys 2: I didn't know that if you crashed a hummer through a run down city of shacks that all of them would blow up... Horrible dialogue - check. Shitty action - check. Martin trying to act hard - check.

Rebound: Martin Lawrence plays a once-famous college coach who is somehow reduced to coaching a middle school team that sucks bawlz. . . Of course they all get better and Martin learns a thing or two about "basketball" and still gets to fuck one of the kids mom's, who's just recently divorced.

Big Mommas House 2: Hilarious when smoking shit loads of reefer.

Wild Hogs: Washed up Geriatrics playing Hell's Angels.

It is said that Bad Boys 3 is also in the works, as well as Wild Hogs 2.

Personal Life:

During the show Martin, Martin Lawrence was accused of sexual harassment. Tisha Campbell, the co-star successfully filed the suit, which state that Martin could not appear on screen with her at any time during the remainder of the shows season.

Opened one night for SNL in 1994, his opening was so raw it was later cut from all following reruns and is BANNED from SNL for life. (lawl)

During the filming of a movie in 1994, Martin went crazy on set and started taking drugs and was arrested after brandishing a weapon on Ventura Blvd.

Arrested at the Burbank airport for carrying a loaded weapon (dumbass)

In March 1997 arrested again after assaulting a man.

In August 1999 Lawrence was in a three day coma after jogging in 100 degree weather in many layers of clothing (heat exhaustion).