Mr. Consistency (Good day, Mr. Bishop)

If it wasn't so damn cold outside, today would be a perfect day to grill. Sun was shining. Plenty of light. New day is dawning. Sunny...

Wait, that's a Luther Vandross song. Shows you what kinda mood I'm in today.

Never was one for church. No reason to go when all the preacher man is gonna do is talk about the same scripture he read some 15 minutes before. I can read that at home or pick one of them Joel Osteen books and get all the religion I need.

Christine was gone to do whatever it was that her and her uppity friends did on Sundays. Nails, feet, all that girly stuff that white chicks do. She'll be gone for most of the day so I'll probably just whip up something later by the time she gets home. A ni**@ gotta eat something. All that bi**h do is spend the money I make. The more I stood to make, the worse she got. Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and any other brand you can think of, she wanted her hands on it. F**k, she was worse than some of the black women that I had messed with before. You'd think a white chick who came from a little money would know how to act when she get with somebody who got a lil something. Sh*t was the total opposite.

I remember when we was in Italy about 6 years ago when I was playing ball. A ni**@ prolly had a 300k house inside his apartment. Paintings and furniture and all kinds of useless sh*t that she would call "art." I'll say this. She was good at managing all the money I made, but the way her spending habits were, I swore I woulda been broke after our first year over there. Luckily, the club I played with furnished the apartment and car payments.

5 years now. I can't call it "trapped" because we don't have any kids. Truth be told I could probably leave whenever I wanted and still come out on top. But the girl had this talent...wooohooo!!!

She was this young, perky thing when I first met her. Maybe it was the fact that she was a cheerleader, but something about Christine Lancaster put a spark through my bones when she first spoke my name. I heard it like it was just yesterday:

"F**k me, number 24..."

Hit that sweet, pink snatch on the first go 'round. Slim waist. Killer blonde hair. Body like that chick from the Transformers movies (Megan Fox). Oh, the head?!? She gave head like a Super Vac. I mean, literally, if you put a d**k in her face, she would wrap those cute pink lips around the shaft and suck so hard I felt like my sh*t was caught in an oral twister. And don't get me started on the pu$$y?!?! I used to flood that valley like Hurricane Katrina. She was on one of them birth control joints so I didn't give a sh*t about going raw. It was cool though because she didn't want Daddy to know she was spending her college money getting 360 degrees with of Mandingo slammed into her basket.

But guess who Daddy was?

Graham Lancaster...U.S. Senator Graham Lancaster.

Almost like playing against one of those black schools in an early season game. Scoring easy and often was my thing. UGA was tucked away from the rest of metro Atlanta, so if you were an athlete, you f**ked, studied, and played ball. But with this particular cheerleader, it was too good to pass up. Political connections, old South plantation-like money, and as much good old fashioned "white" privilege that I could stand. They were a little more liberal than their ancestors were, but you could've cut the tension with a knife the first time they found out their baby girl was dating a black superstar--even though I was mixed with some Filipino.
Things been kinda rocky for some time now. Don't remember when it started but I ain't happy. She spends all the money. She don't have no ambition to be more than a house-ho. And she...

Can't have kids....

All the graces and Southern a ni**@ could ask for, and she couldn't do that one simple thing. She couldn't bear me a son to carry on the Bishop name. And as the years went by, and the false alarms grew, she just became complacent. She wouldn't let me smash her in the ass like she used to nor would she wake up in the morning, ready to catch this nut right before I left the house for work. Sure, I'm probably fu**ed up for being in these streets, looking for something younger, hotter, and more willing, but I got needs too.

She probably figured I was getting some pu$$y elsewhere because sex with us came so few and far between these days. Back in college, we used to f**k like rabbits. Now, we sleep like rocks next to each other. Maybe a snuggle here and there. A bit of mediocre head on holidays or my birthday. Hell, I just wasn't happy.

Chris never complained as long I kept her laced, but if she was half as devoted to the preservation of ME, like say...Mallory, the better off the b**ch would be.
She knew the game before she said I do. I like pu$$y. So f**k what you say.

A ni**@ like me keeps it consistent.