Brother Samuel's Wives & Boyfriends

Life goes on, folks. I'm single, and keeping it that way. I don't know any married person, male or female, who is happy. All I hear from married women are endless complaints about their husbands and men in general. All I hear from married men are endless complaints about their controlling, irate wives and how trapped they feel. Why would I want that? Thank God I'm bisexual. I like men and women, but mostly for sex. I can't stand anyone's presence for too long. Women become boring after a while. Like immediately after sex, I lose interest in the woman. And a lot of men are less interesting than they appear. Both before and after sex. I don't like people. I do feel like something's missing, though. What could it be?

I find myself looking at family photos from the old days. My father, mother, sister and brothers. When we lived in Cap-Haitien, Haiti. Happier times. Before we moved to the city of Brockton. Before the family was torn apart over questions of wealth, power and control. I'm glad they moved to Atlanta. I love having the house to myself. Oh, they visit sometimes. But that's okay. While browsing through the family pictures, I saw photos of my dogs Marquis and Lucky. Two lovable brown mutts we had in Haiti. They're long gone now. I miss them. Filled with a sudden loneliness, I feel tears well up in my eyes. I can't stand men or women. People suck. But I love animals. That's why I'm a member of Society Against Neutering, an animal rights activist network. I head to the pound, and look at the dogs there. I find a large brown-furred dog without a name. It's male, not exactly old, but it's not exactly young either. Also, it's a natural dog. It hasn't been neutered. Why do Americans neuter their pets? It's just wrong.

I pick up the dog, and fill out the forms. It's my dog now. The dog looks at me and I look at him. I don't give him a name. We leave together, and I take him to the fenced house with the big yard where he will live. Upon seeing the yard, the dog is suddenly quite alive. He starts to run around, and I swear he looks more alive than before. I smile. He's such a runner. I say the word runner and his ears are raised. I guess Runner will be his name from now on. I smile at him. I go to the kitchen, cook up some meat and milk. I put it in a bowl, and Runner comes to eat. He hesitates before eating the food, looking at me. I smile and nod. He eats, and then eats. I go to the living room and turn on the TV. I'm watching Heroes on DVD. I'm fascinated by the villains on that show. Especially a certain watchmaker who turned to the dark side.

I try to relax, and think about my life. In two years, I'll be done with Suffolk Law School. Yet another Black lawyer in the city of Boston. Maybe I'll work for one of the big firms. Or I'll start my own practice in case the rich white guys and rich white chicks refuse to hire me because of my Black skin. No matter. I think you'll know what kind of writer I'll be. A ruthlessly ambitious one. And I won't hesitate to do whatever it takes to overcome anyone who gets in my way. Such is the way of the world. For now, I'm a single bisexual Black man living in the city of Brockton. No wife. No girlfriend. No boyfriend. And I like it that way. Women are way too much trouble and some men are quite unreliable. People suck. That's why I got myself a dog, and his name is Runner. Looking into his eyes, I see more loyalty and trust than I've seen in the eyes of anybody I've ever known. People are always calling each other dogs and bitches. The truth is that if people were more like dogs and bitches, as in loyal and trustworthy, humanity might be better for it.