He refused to leave, so I go to grab the phone, and he
rips it out of the wall.
Tiffany: “You really need to leave or I’m going to the
police. I haven’t been to the police before, but there’s
nail marks on my throat, I’m getting a knot on the side
of my head. You need to leave. You really need to go
back to California, get the fuck up out of here, because
I’m calling the police.”Ex-Husband: “I ain’t going nowhere. I ain’t going no-
motherfucking-where.”ͳen I just got really quiet, really calm, like just curled
up in the corner, just got really quiet. I let him yell at me.
He went into the bathroom, and I bolted out the door,
down the stairs, and now I was running around the streets
of Montreal.
I was running past the other comedians—full-on running.
ͳey were calling out, “Yo Tiĉ, where are you going? What
you running for? What you running from?”
I wasn’t about to stop and talk to them. I was too
embarrassed, too scared, too upset, too fucked up to talk to
anyone. I needed help, but I wasn’t about to ask for, or take,
any.
I roamed the streets of Montreal till about eight o’clock
in the morning. Just walking around. Just roaming. Anything
I saw that looked like him, I ran down another street. I was
tripping. When I got back to the room, about nine o’clock in