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Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A woman in her 30s from the city of Incheon has been suffering from mental illness for many years. Anyway, she came home one night and threw two of her dogs out the window of her ninth-floor apartment building. They landed on a parked car and died immediately from their injuries. Luckily, one of her puppies managed to escape this ghoulish fate. The lady now faces three years in prison for her terrible deeds.
Animal cruelty is fairly common in Asia. You have to remember that many Koreans still eat Fido from time to time. So our canine companions are often viewed as food in this part of the globe.
I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.
She said, "Chicken Ken cut the grass for me today."
I nodded and smiled. "That's wonderful. So he managed to crawl out of bed before 5 p.m.?"
"Yes!"
"It's a miracle!" I paused for dramatic effect. "Did my boy do a good job?"
Her facial expression became somber. "He always does a good job. Always. That boy can do anything he puts his mind to."
"Oh, really?"
She nodded her head up and down. "Really."
"Can he play center for the Boston Celtics and lead them to a championship?"
"Now you're just being ridiculous."
I like to break my mother's balls because I feel that I was abused as a child...in a strange sort of way. Don't get me wrong. My parents never beat me. Nor did they force me to eat dog food. Instead, they lavished me with praise and constantly told me how special I am. I feel like I would have been happier if they had just slapped me in the face with the ugly truth. Words like these would have helped. "Hey, boy, you're a fucking loser, so don't go around thinking you're all that plus a bag of chips. And you're fucking ugly, too. In fact, you'll spend most of your sex life masturbating to ungodly porn. These are horrible things to say, but we're just try to get you prepared for life."
Anyway, my day at work was long and arduous. That's why I didn't write a blog post. I spent most of my time preparing for a pizza party to entertain the middle school children. It began at 3 p.m. and lasted for five hours. I had to chase the kids all over the place as they played dodgeball and basketball and volleyball. I'm getting a bit old for that type of shit.
I eventually got home at nine and took Rice-Boy Larry across the street for Napalm chicken. We struck up a conversation as we stuffed our fat faces with the fiery poultry.
He said, "I need $120 dollars."
"Why?"
He let out a groan. "I made the mistake of joining a school club that charges money. We're donating the cash to the poor in Africa."
I took a swallow of beer. "With all the free clubs out there, you selected the one that requires a fee?"
"My bad. I wish I could do it all over again."
"Well, too fucking bad. You're forking over the dough from your own savings. Don't look to me for help. Hopefully, this will teach you the value of a dollar."
"But I'm helping the poverty stricken in Africa."
"What about the poverty stricken in South Korea? Namely, your poor old dad." I sighed heavily. "You ain't getting a dime."
We eventually returned home at 11 p.m., and I crawled to my room and slept like the dead.
