Crazy… I actually don’t wake up to a sophisticated alarm embedded in the headboard of my bed. Not because there isn’t one there, but because today is Sunday, my day off from work when I can finally play a round of golf. I shouldn’t really call playing professional basketball ‘work’, though. I play for the Mobile Frackers, a new NBA franchise that was started in 2018 by a group of oil barons. Since all vehicles, planes, and boats became solar-powered (due to a breakthrough in research by Sonny Jacobson, a Bucknell grad), the need for oil is significantly lower than it was 10 years ago. I guess the oil barons made a smart move by getting out of the oil industry and investing in hoops.
Anyways… I get out of bed and go downstairs to see my personal chef, Cheyenne Peppers, making me breakfast. “I’ve made your favorite!” she exclaims. “Chilaquiles?” I ask with a smile on my face. “You’re the best!” I hastily sit down at the kitchen counter, grab my fork, and dig in. “These are terrible,” I tell her. “You’re fired.” Of course I’m only kidding; Cheyenne and I are great friends. She is the girlfriend of my manager, Petey Manavich. They both live with me in my condo in Mobile, AL, overlooking the Gulf of Mexico.
As I eat my delicious Mexican dish, I pull up my computer on the kitchen counter. First I check my U, the app I developed several years ago that has revolutionized how people across the WORLD manage their lives. U is not a social media platform. (I would tell you more about it, but this is something I’m actually working on.) Finishing my last bite, I yell out to Petey, “you ready to get your ass kicked today?”
Petey and I hop in my solar-powered Range Hover. We joke about how funny it was when I had that piece of shit ’02 Acura RSX two-door.
Pulling up to the valet parking at Moose Country Club, I am greeted by Parker, one of our younger employees. “Good morning Mr. Muscala,” he says. “Please…call me Mic,” I tell him. I got a lot of crap for changing the spelling of my name a couple years ago, but it has helped my rap career immensely. Despite my appearance, I have garnered a decent amount of respect in the rap industry with my two albums “Six Foot Eleven” and “Mic Jawz: Great White”.
After shooting a disappointing 78, I tell my caddy Jeff Greens to schedule me for another tee time next Sunday. My golf game has really improved, but only being able to play once a week makes it difficult. As Petey drives us back to the condo, we put on some instrumentals and start freestyling. I’ve been so lucky to have him as my manager — we’ve been friends ever since 2nd grade.
Cheyenne has dinner ready for us when we get back. Steaks from the grill and corn on the cob, lathered with butter and salt. Sunday is when I pay less attention to the healthiness of the foods I eat – it keeps me sane throughout the grueling week of workouts as I prepare for the upcoming season with the Frackers. I check my U one more time before bed and set my alarm that is, in fact, embedded into my headboard. 730 AM it reads. Time for another week to get better. As a 31 year-old professional basketball player in the final year of his contract, I need a big year if I want to remain in the NBA and get another contract as a free agent when the year is over.
Then again, when I first signed with my agent over 10 years ago, he mentioned it wouldn’t be terrible if I went to Spain to play ball for the final couple years of my career. Guess we’ll just have to find out. ¡Buenas noches!