Diary of a Mad Black Woman Page #3

Lord.

You hungry?

I can't eat anything.

You need to eat something.

What happened to her?

Life.

Brian and the kids must

really be going through it.

They're doing all right.

But I want to talk about you.

I called Charles this morning...

and he told me,

before he hung up...

that you and him

is getting a divorce.

But what I can't seem

to figure out is why you here.

He put me out of the house.

-Who house?

-Our house.

Exactly. How the hell

a man gonna put a woman...

out of her own house?

He might've put me out...

but he was gonna

put me out of half.

I'm gonna go in

the other half of the house.

He wasn't puttin' me

out of all of it.

The house is in his name, Madea.

Lord have mercy.

That's how women get messed up.

Too busy out shopping when you

need to be checking the deed.

Whoo! That makes me mad, girl.

I don't have any rights

to the money.

No right?

I signed a prenup.

What the hell

you sign a prenup--

I ought to punch you

in the face.

Who the hell told you

to sign a renup?

He didn't have nothin'

when you married him!

Charles always knew

he'd be successful.

And he said to me...

"l want to know that

you're here for love."

And I didn't have a job.

So it's his money.

Is it? What was you doing

while he was working, honey?

Taking care of the house,

cooking and cleaning.

Exactly.

That sounds like a job to me.

Cooking and cleaning--

how long you do that?

18 years.

All right. OK.

18 years...

let's see how much he owes you.

18 years...

you've been cooking...

cleaning...

having sex with him

when he wanted.

-Was it good?

-No.

Major deduction.

And I didn't tell you

that he hit me.

Girl, that man

owes you 64 billion...

283 million, 974 trillion...

5 thousand...

and 20 dollars and 82 cents.

Now, you need to get your money.

-That'll never happen.

-You want to bet?

I can happen

one of two ways, honey.

You can get it from his

checking account voluntarily...

or his insurance policy.

Involuntary manslaughter.

Which one it's gonna be?

-Madea.

-Mm-mm.

I ain't gonna have this.

Come on.

-What? Where are we going?

-To your house.

Oh, no. The guard

will never let us in.

I said come on!

Mayday! Mayday!

Lord have mercy.

Get your stuff.

What the hell

is wrong with you?

These your clothes?

They're hers.

Oh, they're hers?

Who is, uh...

"Dol...say & Gab-anna?"

Who that is?

Dolce and Gabbana.

They're designers.

Oh. She a label ho.

$700 for a damn rag?

Just a rag.

Madea, no, no, no.

Don't do that.

This man left you...

for some old floozy.

Madea, what's wrong?

A wire hanger!

Rip it.

Rip it?

-Rip it.

-No, no.

Rip it!

-Rip it? Rip it!

-Rip it!

Rip it!

Rip it!

What the hell are you doing?

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