The Chef High O.G Show

The kitchen was Chauncey’s canvas.
Even when it was relatively empty. Chauncey would find a way to put something together, and make it delicious.
He was  Salvador Dali with a skillet and a spatula. He always had been, even when his ingredients had been government cheese and week old bakers scraps. Regardless of his talents he had become a wild youngster. A good fight had been his idea of a good time.
An unfortunate group of  events had lead to his incarceration.
Chauncey had taken enough cooking classes while he was “freedom impaired” to supposedly land him a job as a chef. However, the jobs weren't open to him.
He had been forced to go through cooking school again outside the penal system.
The major hotel where He plied his trade was awesome. The ex-gangbanger, enjoyed cooking so he didn't mind the work itself. He did mind his supervisor. The man was much younger than Chauncey and it seemed as if he was ecstatic to have Chauncey serve under him.
The supervisor “Chuck” knew nothing about cooking. He was a pencil pusher, who found himself responsible for a luxury hotel. 
Chauncey was the head chef. It paid okay. He had benefits including, 401k and life insurance.  It was more than he'd had before.
When he had come home from prison  he had been on a financial roller coaster. If a rollercoaster only went down.
For a while he would work temporary jobs and do construction work with a friend of his from home.
It had been survival pure and simple. It made Chauncey miss California.
He didn't just miss the ocean, or the women, it wasn't just the lack of good Mexican, and Chinese. Cali just had a different frame of mind.
In and of itself  Atlanta was great. He had never seen so many black folks who were successful.
Unlike California real estate Chauncey's two bedroom house in Smyrna, had been a steal. He was still suspicious, still felt like someone was going to tell him he'd underpaid.
Chauncey had chosen his house based on the way the kitchen was laid out.
He had several other Crip “Cousins” that had relocated to Georgia and the homies had been helpful in adapting to Georgia.
One thing he found out fast was Georgia child support didn't play. Now that he was doing well, they turned his pockets inside out every paycheck.
True his job was good, but he missed the California atmosphere and he was questioning the decision to move Atlanta. Add to that the fact that Georgia had such strict laws about marijuana. Because if there was anything else that Chauncey loved as much as cooking it was getting high. He actually enjoyed doing both together, when he got ‘lifted' the recipes just came to him.
Some of the more successful experiments had made it to the hotel menu.
His Pina colada Mahi-Mahi, Peanut butter encrusted tuna steaks, and his jackfruit tacos had all been creations that came from being high.
In Atlanta he had to hide his marijuana consumption. They still had archaic laws concerning the herb.
That was the way that he thought of it. As an herb that was vilified by antiquated laws and statues. Even after a full day of preparing meals for the elites who stayed in the high rise hotel, Chauncey still wanted to cook at home.All he needed was an excuse.
One of the Homies falling through? He was cooking.
Not that he had many homies to fall through in Atlanta.
Chauncey was lonely. Not in the way that he needed a woman's touch, I mean its Atlanta, and that was the easiest thing to find.
No, what Chauncey missed was having people to come over and cook for. In Cali he had wanted to sell food out of his house.
He had left California because of not being able to find work with his record. It was ironic that a state with the highest incarceration numbers, was where an ex-con found a job. 
Deciding that he needed to get out of the house Chauncey had gone on a date. Lynn was a woman he had met online. Their banter on the internet had led to conversations on the phone.
Their representatives had impressed.
So the pair had decided to check out a comedy club. 
The show had begun on C.P.T. he and Lynn had spent the time getting to know each other. He liked her freckles, grey eyes, and tiny space in her teeth.
She liked the fact that even at 5” 10' She had to look up at him. Oh and if them big ass Timberland boots were any indication!
Lynn, was a Human Resources director for Home Depot. Her body was about as perfect as you could find on his side of 40.
She was from Dayton Ohio, her accent nearly reminded him of home. He had never even thought about Ohio before but Lynn was schooling him on its gang infested culture.
He knew that Lynn knew her stuff. She had called him out immediately “You’re a Crip. Aren’t you?” He had laughed until he cried even though no comedian had hit the stage yet.
Even though the amateur comedian that did hit the stage, late, and obviously high, was hilarious, Chauncey and Lynn had no use for Omar “Big O” Seaford, they were too focused on each other.
They drank a couple of Peach Martinis and talked comfortably.
Lynn kept looking at Chauncey’s long incisors, and wondering if he bit her would it break the skin.
She knew he was a roughneck, and she wanted to fuck him despite the fact, or maybe because of it.
She had smelled the weed on him through his Armani.
Lynn had dated one thug, married and divorced another, and had kids by both. She didn't want another one long-term, but this thug was handsome as fuck, smart, could tell a funny story and might keep her attention.
At least until she could find her CEO Charming.
“This nigga gonna get it tonight!” She decided with finality.
They stayed past the end of the show finding an excuse to remain in each other’s company.
  He started to suggest one of the many late-night eateries in Atlanta but being straightforward  Lynn said. “Look we can keep it real with one another. You smoke trees, right?”
Chauncey was elated, she was sexy, funny, and a stoner! He couldn’t believe his luck. How did she know? He didn't realize that the smell clung to his skin making it obvious.  “Yeah, I smoke. You smoke?”
Lynn laughed, “Nah, I don’t smoke. I’m the feds, I’m entrapping you.”
Her grey eyes twinkled as she baited him. Even before she suggested they leave Chauncey was signaling their server.
He had made a point to start the evening by tipping the waitress as soon as she introduced herself.
Being in a service industry himself he knew that a true tip would ensure that he received superior service. It also looked classy as hell.
Lynn, turned to him and said “So I have a 19-year-old son at home. He smokes so we could go to my house…to smoke.”
She left the fact that smoking would be all they would do if they went to her house unspoken, but it was implied. “No ma. We are going to my house.”
The sexual energy was smoldering.
They laughed and teased one another in the Uber. 
She commenced calling him O.G. and he liked the way it sounded coming from her lips. “I’m hungry O.G. We’re not stopping for food?” Lynn asked over the Uber drivers mumble rap Pandora station.
“You know I’m a chef, right?” He asked with a smirk.
The pair sat on Chauncey’s porch and smoked a glass pipe shaped like a cigar. The conversation was even easier under the yellow moon and with the high-quality cannabis stimulating pleasure centers in their brains.
Of course, Chauncey prepared a gourmet meal, even though he cooked it in nothing but his tattoos.
In between episodes of mind blowing sex, Chauncey and Lynn got high and he cooked.
He would go through the entire process talking, somehow black pepper or coriander, could trigger a story that would have her laughing.
Minutes later he would have her pinned to the wall. She wound up spending the entire next day and night.
The day after brought reality, and the need to adult. They had to go back to work.
Lynn had finally took off his shirt and dressed in the clothes she had worn for their date.
“I’ve enjoyed myself Chef High O.G. You're a culinary genius. You really should have your own place.”
That statement had been the first seed, and though he and Lynn didn’t wind up dating for long she had created an idea that Chauncey couldn’t shake. The dream was not his own restaurant, that had been an old dream when he first attended cooking school. 
Chauncey, was stuck on the “Chef High O.G.” The name resonated with him.
He could relate to it. The more he considered it, the more he realized he didn't want to have a restaurant.
He was thinking about a YouTube Channel and creating his dishes live in front of the camera.
It would be like having somebody come to the crib getting high, talking trash and feeding them!
Like having them sit at the breakfast counter at his place while he cooked. Chef high O.G.’s place. 
Chauncey bought a tripod from Amazon and a digital camera. He spent countless nights filming himself making extravagant dishes from basic items.
It felt good.
Like company, like cooking for ‘Musclehead', ‘Scrap 19', ‘Ghost loc’, and all the other little homies that used to pull-up, before the street collected her due from them.
Just like his mother had done, Chauncey wouldn't let you leave his house hungry. He had fed lots of the “locs” and homeless people when he lived in Compton.
Determined to realize his dreams, he worked extra shifts at the hotel, he took catering jobs that he normally would have outright refused, and he even went to the temp service on his off days.
Whenever he found a minute Chauncey filmed himself cooking, and telling stories.
He had a way about him that made the videos like watching a really cool uncle, who tells the funniest stories.
After 3 months of saving and eating noodles, he approached his Job requesting a transfer.
The transfer took approximately a month, during which Chauncey worked hard, ate more noodles and saved his coins. Finally, the day arrived, and Chauncey took the 33-hour drive from Marietta, Ga to Compton, California.
Chauncey smoked almost non-stop, as He drove his Jeep Grand Cherokee across the USA.
As soon as the saltwater smell hit him Chauncey knew he was back home.
He couldn’t wait to post his “Chef High O.G.” videos.
The views trickled in at first even though he had posted links from all his social media outlets.
He still worked for the same Luxury hotel chain and he was making a living, but his dream was stagnating.
His jeep changed everything for him.
The fuel pump went out in the ten-year-old SUV and Chauncey needed to pick up some extra funds.
He spoke to a  Rolling 60 partner about doing some bouncing work. 
The club that he landed at was the toast of the City, and his scowling face and 6” 6’ frame kept him from having to have too many conversations.
The owner decided that he liked Chauncey and tasked him with controlling the V.I.P.
The rappers and high-profile celebrities liked Chauncey too.
When a certain rap star decided to follow Chauncey on Instagram things took off for him.
Soon the Chef high O.G. Show had guest appearances with Snoop, Whiz Kalifa, Berner, Smoke DZA, and every weed smoking celeb in California.
2 Chains, and the Migos came over from Atlanta to hang out at his house get high and cook soul food.
Dave Chappell stopped by for shrimp & grits, and shrimp toast. Katt Williams, Kurrupt, and he deep fried Salmon pate' turnovers, and made dipping sauce. Chauncey knew he had made it when he was on the cover of High Times magazine.
Soon Chauncey had his own cable cooking show. Chef High O.G. had become a household name.