All language subtitles for moesha_s02e15_mentor

Hakeem, Kim, and I got over big time on
mean old Mrs. Moss.

See, she's about 100 years old, maybe
older, nobody knows for sure.

There's a rumor that she came over on
one of those ships.

I'm not talking slave ship, I'm talking
Viking, not as old.

She's got this orange tree that's loaded
with the sweetest, biggest, juiciest

oranges in the neighborhood, and she
never gives anybody any.

So I shook the tree once, maybe five
times, and boom, all the oranges I could

carry.

The heist was going smoothly until
Grandma vaulted over the hedges swinging

broom like Dave Justice.

Hakeem underestimated her agility and
got whacked a couple of times.

But it was worth it for all those years
she terrorized us.

You know what? Today I learned that
revenge is sweet and sweet.

Some nice -looking oranges you got
there.

Have one, Daddy. No thanks, baby. I
don't want the juice of stolen fruit on

hands.

Daddy, you've got it all wrong. This is
the sweet nectar of payback.

Louisa, that woman never did anything to
you. She kept my ball when it

accidentally rolled into her yard.

Well, that was ten years ago, and you
were thick.

Hey, we tried to tell her, but she
wouldn't let it go.

Yeah, you know how hard -headed these
kids are today, Mr. Mitch. And some kids

have harder heads.

She's good.

Moesha, I just had a little conversation
with Miss Moss.

Dang, what did she do, flag you down on
the street?

Actually, she did.

Moesha, I'm afraid you're going to have
to work off those oranges, baby.

Why? They're low in calories.

Yeah, but they're high in punishment
content.

Now, you are going to run errands for
Mrs. Moss every day after school for a

week.

I know who you are.

Come on in here. Stop wasting time.

Oh. I'm gone.

What is this?

It's a telephone.

You don't know nothing, do you?

Yeah, I know stuff. I've just never seen
one like this before.

What's that?

A radio.

This is a mop. That's the floor. Clean
it.

Like a lump on a log.

Help me find it.

Yo.

Here it is. What is it doing in a flower
pot?

I was trying to make it grow.

Give me that.

What's in here?

My second hood. All right.

Dear Helen, I could... have done it
without you, love.

Langston. Langston Hughes, Mr. Harlem
Renaissance himself.

What do you know about Langston? Oh,
well, I know baby was kind of fine.

Mm -hmm.

Mm -hmm.

That's what I figured.

That's all you young folks think about
today.

Baby's fine.

Baby got back.

Baby got junk in his trunk.

I'll tell you where the junk is.

In your head.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?

A fester like a thorn then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat? A crust
and sugar over like a therapy sweet?

So you know him. Oh, well, let's just
say I know a little something

How about doing a little mopping
-mopping?

would, and from the way it looks, one of
the first ever made.

I mean, what are you writing? Nothing.
I'm trying to fix the ribbon.

Did you learn anything in school?

Well, I learned that the computer
replaced the typewriter.

This tape ain't no good.

Grandson was supposed to pick me up a
new one, but he didn't.

That's why I hate me for other folks to
do things for me.

That's what I always do for myself.

So you go get it.

ripping like this down at the museum
next to the will exhibit?

Five and dime.

Oh, you mean the 99 cents store? No, I
meant just what I said.

And if they try to charge you more than
15 cents, don't you get it.

And don't forget to bring back my
change.

Out of a quarter? Wow, do you trust me
with all this money?

I'm going to give you the exact change.

pocket give me that here and go on hurry
up

okay get yourself a sweater out there in
that closet

She's old, mean, and grouchy. She's Andy
Rooney in a skirt.

Daddy, please don't make me go back
there. I had to click my heels three

just to get home.

That's why it's called punishment,
Dorothy.

Uh -oh, so how did you beat me home,
Toto?

No, you're going back.

Dee, will you tell him that there are
laws against selling children into

slavery?

We're not at risk, sweetheart.

No money changed hands.

I don't understand why I have to go back
there.

Some things you don't have to
understand, baby. You just have to do.

Well, let me, you know, leave before you
say this hurts you more than it hurts

me. Well, no, this isn't hurting me at
all.

Dee, how about you?

Oh, no, I'm fine.

Miles?

Anytime she's not happy, you know I'm
happy.

Well, you guys can all stop feeling good
because as of today, I'm putting myself

on house arrest.

I'm going to my room.

locking the door, throwing away the key.
I will not go back to that Evelyn's

house of horror.

Oh,

you brought some help. Good.

Yeah, Daddy.

Why don't you come on in? It's a gang of
fun.

Uh, no thanks, baby. This is as far as I
go. Uh, Mrs. Moss, she's all yours.

So, what's the occasion?

A formal torture session today?

I was supposed to have lunch with
Wallace and some friends.

Oh, just forget it.

I told him.

If you're going to come here late, I was
not going. Oh, well, wait a minute.

Sister, we still can do this. Tell
Moesha where you're going and I can get

there. The Brown Derby. Oh, you know, I
can't get you there.

You know, I could, but, you know, I'll
need a time machine for that because

been closed for years.

As usual, you don't know what you're
talking about.

The Derby is still jumping, but I don't
want to go, so just drop it. I consider

it dropped.

a new ribbon i licked everywhere but i
found a used one at an antique shop how

much you paid for it fifteen dollars
what fifteen dollars i didn't pay that

for the typewriter you stop being so
nosy get up aren't you

gonna tell me what you're writing

You are the most worrisome child I have
ever met. Oh, wait till you meet my

brother, Miles.

Look, at least let me knock it out on my
computer. You know I type 70 words per

minute. Computer?

You're just like that grandson of mine,
always in a hurry.

Faster is not better.

Slow ain't better either.

So at least let me type it for you.

I hope you type better than you clean.

Because you half mopped my floor.

That's because you told me to go get a
ribbon for this typewriter. You know,

which way is my ribbon?

Mrs. Moss, I just put it in the
typewriter.

Stop all that yapping.

Type, type.

So, you know, this is pretty good.

You actually wrote this?

I did.

For real? You know what? I'm a writer,
too.

Hush, child.

You got to live.

before you can call yourself a writer. I
have lived, okay? What do you think I

have been doing for the past 16 years?

I have seen floods, earthquakes, fires,
rebellions. I even saw Girl 6.

I was born before man could fly.

Before women could vote.

Before jazz was considered music.

Shoot. I was around before butter was in
sticks.

So don't talk to me.

About living. All right, sister. You
win. You owe it to me.

So have you written any novels?

One. You're typing it.

Not very productive, are you?

Let's see what I got to type on it.

When did you start writing?

Oh, these questions.

Whose punishment is this?

Sorry, just trying to make conversation.

In Harlem.

In the 20s.

During the Harlem Renaissance?

No. The one they had in Cleveland.

How come I never heard about you?

Didn't I just tell you I was still
writing my book?

Trying to keep up.

How come it's taking you so long?

You know, if I had met you 70 years ago,
I probably would have quit then.

I didn't have any confidence.

So mostly I typed for Zora Langston.

Zora Neale Hurston?

No. That's my favorite writer for life.

I absolutely love Their Eyes Were
Watching God.

Yeah? Well, if Zora hadn't brought that
first draft to me, it would have been

called Their Eyes Was Watching the
Devil.

Zora was wise.

Man, Mrs. Moss, I can't believe I'm
actually talking to someone who was

back then. What was it like?

It was marvelous.

The music, the poetry.

The party.

Harlem was like a 24 -hour jam session.

Tell me everything, and I even want the
dirt. None of that stuff you can read

about in a book.

I remember the time when Langston and
Zora fell out.

Oh, Tish, I read that she really loved
him.

Everybody loved Langston.

Marisha, you ever heard of five?

It's the literary journal of the day.

It featured the work of Langton, Zora,
Wallace Thurman... And me.

You were published in Fire?

My first poem.

I'm on page 34.

But I don't know whether I want you to
read it, because you'd probably laugh.

It's terrible.

It really is terrible.

It's not. It wouldn't have ever made it
in the book.

I need onions. What are you talking
about?

Hey, Ma, you're back just in time for
lunch. Oh, no, I'm having lunch with

Moss today.

She is so cool.

Uh, uh, Mrs. Moss from up the street,
baby? About so tall?

Grumpy old pain in the butt, Mrs. Moss.
Yeah, yeah. The one that swings the mean

broom?

When you so fool from?

All right, go ahead and clown me. I
admit I was wrong.

But did you know she was a writer? She
actually knew Langston Hughes.

Our Mrs. Moss?

Yeah, my Mrs. Moss.

I'm taking her to the den later on, and
she's doing a reading.

Oh, you got her to do that.

Yeah, she loves to talk to people.

Not to just anybody, just fellow
writers.

Well, son, I'll tell you, life for me
ain't been no crystal stair.

It's that taxonant and splinters and
boards torn up and places with no carpet

the floor. There.

But all the time, I'se been a climbing
on and reaching landings and turning

corners and sometimes going in the dark.

And life for me ain't been no crystal
stair.

Langston Hughes.

eight track.

Well, why don't you read us one of
yours, Miss Moss?

Oh, no, I don't think so.

Come on. Everybody you read tonight was
great, but it's nothing like having an

actual Harlem Renaissance poet read her
own Harlem Renaissance poetry.

Well, now, listen, I would love to read
it, but I left home and left my words

behind.

Well, I just happened to have an
original copy of Fire, which has an

poem written by Helen Gaither Moss.

Give me that.

Such a meddlesome child.

Aren't you going to read it? I don't
have to read it. I wrote it.

That was the one and only poem I had
published.

And I didn't like it then, but Langston
made him buy it.

so he wouldn't have to pay me for some
typing.

Quit stalling and read. Yeah, spread the
word, girl.

Word, word, word, word, word, word,
word. All right, all right, all right.

down.

Love between the pages is a poet's
dream.

And I write a love song for you.

And you write a melody for me.

Because, you see, between the pages is
where I love you the most.

As I write you into my life, as I write
you into my dreams,

as I write you into my... into my... Why
don't you

just read it? I don't have to read it. I
know it.

I was just trying to help. I don't need
your help.

Told you I didn't like this poem no how.

I had enough. I wanna go home.

I'm Alicia.

Hello. I'm a friend of Mrs. Moss. I
typed for her. Oh, yeah.

She mentioned you.

It's nice to meet you.

Come on in. Who are you?

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm Harold Moss, her grandson.

Okay.

Mama Moss isn't feeling very well today.

You know what? She was cranky last
night. Is she coming down with a cold or

something like that? I'm afraid it's a
little more serious than that.

If you're faking sick to get out of work
today, you can forget it. Oh, there

must be some mistake. This is my day
off.

Did Langston send you?

Langston, no. I'm here to type your
novel on the computer.

I'm sorry.

Have we met?

This is Cove. Oh, I'll get that for you,
Grandma. Stop calling me that.

Mrs. Moss, it's me, Moesha.

Don't you remember me?

I stole your fruit, and I talked back to
you, and you told me that I didn't know

anything.

I've been helping you type your novel.
We were going to finish it today.

It must be some mistake, honey. I have
not written any novel.

Don't you remember saying that to me?
Don't be upset, honey.

Don't you cry.

You're too pretty to cry.

Grandma.

Maybe you should lie down for a while.

I gotta go.

Excuse me.

What did you say your name was?

Moesha.

Nice meeting you.

Moesha.

How can she not know me? We've been
together every day this week.

My grandmother has Alzheimer's.

She doesn't even remember who I am.

I can't believe this.

I mean, how can this be happening?

It's been coming for a while.

What are you going to do? I mean, you're
not going to put her in a home, are

you? Oh, no, no, no.

She's going to come live with my family.

Where? I'll come and visit. I want to do
what I can to help out.

Don't worry, Moesha.

You're going to take good care of her.

She left this for you.

A manuscript.

She must have thought a lot of you.

We want custom wallpaper.

Mrs. Moss moved away last week.

I miss her a lot.

It's weird how we think of older people
sometimes.

You know, they walk slow, talk slow,
drive slow.

We're always moving so fast, we don't
really have time for them.

I've read that in Africa, the elders of
a village are revered.

And I wonder how we lost that.

Mrs. Helen Gaither Moth lived on my
block for most of my life.

What I've learned from her in one week,
I can use for the rest of my life.

Thank you, Mrs. Moss.