Buckwheat Tries To Get Arrested

Trying to cashing in on some of the notoriety that comes with being arrested, Buckwheat tries to orchestrate his own arrest to have a beer with Obama.

When I arrived at the  Home for Retired Racial Stereotypes, Buckwheat was on the front porch, using a crowbar to jimmy open the door.

“Forget your key?” I inquired.

“No, White,” the famous Our Gang character replied.  “I’m working on my invitation to have a beer at the White House with President Obama.  Call the cops, will you, and tell them someone is breaking into the place!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” I gasped.

“Oh naw I ain’t,” Buckwheat laughed, letting himself in through the damaged door.  “If Skip Gates can do it, I can! He ain’t the only one who can parley an incident of police misconduct into 15 mo’ minutes of fame!”

Eager to see if  my friend’s  far-fetched scheme would actually work, I put through a 911 call on my cell phone.
Moments later, a police car screeched to a  stop at the curb.  A beefy white police man got out and bounded up the stairs.

“I’m here to investigate a possible burglary,” the cop snapped when Buckwheat came to the door.

“Why?  Because I’m a black midget  in the reruns? ” Buckwheat shouted, winking at me in a conspiratorial way.

“Please step outside and show me some ID,” barked the cop, reaching for his Taser.

“I’ll talk to yo momma outside,” Buckwheat fired back, giving me another wink.

The cop look startled.  “Okay, I’ll call her.  She’ll be right over,” he said, dialing his cell phone.In a few minutes, a racy convertible pulled up behind the police car.  An apple-cheeked, cheerful white woman got out and joined us on the porch.

“Hello, son, I’m sure we won’t be needing that Taser ” the woman greeted the officer as I looked on incredulously.  Then she turned to Buckwheat and reached out to shake his hand.  “You have such a cute racial profile,” she said, fixing him with a dazzling smile and affectionately tugging one of his pigtails.  “Can I have your autograph?” Buckwheat blushed and batted his eyes.

The next thing I knew we were  immersed in a pleasant chat.  Buckwheat and the cop  agreed to meet at the local tavern after the cop went off duty.As the officer and his  momma prepared to depart, Buckwheat scrawled something on a piece of paper and gave it to her.  She read it and chuckled, and she and her son sped off.

“What did you write her?” I inquired.

“I’D RATHER TALK WIF YO MOMMA
THAN QUAFF  A BEER WIF  OBAMA!
SIGNED BUCKWHEAT,” he replied.

“That’s a nice sentiment,” I said.

“Well,” said Buckwheat with a sigh, “When it comes to dealing with cops, yo momma always knows best.”

Jack White is a regular contributor to The Root.