He was one of the mrst people I told when I decided to start
doing comedy.
Tiffany: “I’m about to go full-time in comedy, Roscoe.”Roscoe: “TIFF-A-KNEE! Youu do soo good! Youu soo
fun-neeee! Tell me when youu doin’ it, I’m going to
come see youuu.”Tiffany: “I’m doing open mics right now, maybe when
my shows get bigger, then you can come to the show.”Roscoe: “Oh, you’re so fun-nee, youu make everybody
laugh, you’re going to be the best comedian, you’re
going to be the best.”He would always be so encouraging. Even though life had
dealt him such a bad hand, he was just a positive
motherfucker.
And then he was gone, and it was my fault.
For years, I didn’t tell none of my friends about him.
Then I ran into one of my old coworkers, and I told her. She
about choked:
Friend: “You fucked Roscoe? Oh my God. How did you
end up fucking Roscoe? I remember he used to talk
about you every day, and if you didn’t show up to
work, he’d be wondering where you were, so worried
about you. How did you end up fucking Roscoe?”