Celebrity Imagines

Happy Wife...

Chris's P.O.V

Driving home from working at the studio all day, I blasted a YG song from my playlist. Just as my part was coming up, I got a call from wifey. Using the Bluetooth settings on my car, I answered the call.

"Hey, babe. Wassup?"

"Hey, love. Where you at?"

"On my way home from downtown—" she interrupted me quickly, clearly excited about something.

"Oh, perfect! Since you down there, can you pick me up a soul food platter from that place I like?" her voice trailed off in that little whining voice she puts on when she wants something.

"Hold up, Y/N..." I had to think twice about what the fuck she just asked, "Didn't you just cook last night?"

"Yeah, so...?"

"So, I'm telling you to open the damn refrigerator, open up them Tubberware containers and pop a couple scoops of that shit into the microwave. For real, Y/N. You don't see all the fucking food we got stuffed in there from last night?" I complained.

She sucked her teeth, "Im not stupid or blind, Chris. I know what's in there. I just don't want to eat it. I want a soul food platter with collard greens, baked mac, fried chicken, and cornbread," she informed.

"Y/N," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Chris," she mocked.

"I'm eating the leftovers when I get home. Why can't you?!"

"'Cause, that's you. What you eat don't make me shit,"

This woman.

"Y/N, this is a waste of money,"

"Babe, what's your net worth, again...?"

I went silent.

"I'm sorry my phone must be breaking up because I don't seem to hear anything..."

I silently threw a fit in the front seat.

"Exactly, you got enough to feed the needy and right now I'm in need of some soul food, nigga,"

"Fine, which soul food spot you need me to go to?" I finally heeded to her request.

"Chris, stop playing?"

"How am I playing, babe...?"

"How you not know where I want my damn food from?! Who you acting brand new for?"

"Bi-"

I took a moment to breathe before I cussed myself into the dog house for the week, "Woman, I ain't acting brand new. I just need to know which restaurant you need me to go to?"

"Chris you know what place I'm talking about..."

My eye twitched as I spoke through gritted teeth, "No, I don't. For the 35,000 time, tell me where I need to go,"

"Maurice, don't get your boxers in a shitty shangle. Why are you getting loud with me?"

"I'm not yelling at you!"

"Now you are-"

"Y/N! If you don't give me a place to go to in the next ten seconds! Your ass is gonna be starving like a crackhead cousin before an Independence Day barbecue!" I shouted.

"Ugh! Just go to Uncle Ray's Vegan House,"

Silence overtook the conversation. She could not be fucking serious.

"Y/N, let me ask you a fair question,"

"Shoot,"

"In all the time that I've known you. From being friends, to dating, and being married. And after eating at a thousand different places witchu'...When have you ever, been a motherfucking vegan?!"

"I'm not,"

"Then, why AM I DRIVING TO A VEGAN RESTAURANT?!"

"Tanisha, told me about it and I wanted to try it out," she admitted.

"So all this time, you expected me to become Jimmy fucking Neutron and figure that you wanted to eat from a place we've never fucking been too?! A place that doesn't even use real chicken or cheese for they food?!"

"Look, if you don't want to take the drive there, then I'll just go myself,"

"I'm not saying that, Y/N,"

"You're right. You didn't say that explicitly, but your tone-"

"I swear, yo, if I didn't love pussy so much I'd go fucking gay! I'd be gayer than a fucking rainbow appearing over a fucking New York PRIDE parade with Mariah Carey!"

"Ugh, Chris! You are so dramatic. Just go get my platter and don't mess it up. Bye."

She hung up the phone and I've never been so damnit frustrated. I gripped the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles turned white.

"Woosah...happy wife, happy life..."

I got this from a GuyMoments video called Turkey Burger on YT. It's funny as hell.