Yesterday was freezing. Korea is now suffering due to an artic blast of frigid air. Yet sadly my plate was full, so I couldn't remain at home keeping warm under the blankets. On the contrary. I had to drag myself to the tax office in order to stay on the good side of Big Brother. Since I can't speak of the language, Rice-Boy Larry did most of the heavy lifting.
We took a bus to our destination, but I had to hit the bank first to get some dough.
He said, "How much are you taking?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "How does $700 sound to you?"
"Why do you need so much money?"
"Well, I certainly don't plan on spending it all in one place. I just like the feeling of having a few bucks in my pocket."
I placed my card into the ATM and punched in my password. Then the machine made that wonderful sound as it spit out the bank notes. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick. I grabbed the cash and put it in my wallet. A smile crossed my face when I thought about the old days. Back when I was a married man, I never had two nickels to rub together. Things have certainly changed for the better, thank the Lord.
Anyway, we arrived at the office at two p.m. and were greeted by an elderly gentleman who was guarding the door. Larry spoke to him in Korean, and the geezer led us to a desk which was occupied by a bespectacled pencil pusher. The process was pretty painless. He took my ID card and punched some crap into the computer. And it wasn't long until his printer sparked into action, dumping out all my financial information in no time flat.
Larry chatted with the guy for a moment or two before focusing his attention on me. "You have to take all these papers to your employer, and the school will do the rest."
"Are you sure?"
"That's what the man just told me."
"Wow. It's that simple?"
"Well, it certainly doesn't seem like rocket science."
The pencil pusher put my documents into a manila folder and bowed to us as we left. We thanked him profusely, and he shot us a toothy grin.
Larry said, "What's next?"
"I'm going to take you to dinner."
"What are we going to have?"
"How about a pork feast?"
"Sound good to me."
So we walked for about ten minutes before finding a suitable restaurant. It was a little dive tucked away in an alley. There was an sign in front which advertised sam-gyup-saal. Translation? Thinly sliced pork that is cooked on a grill. The price was six dollars for 120 grams. We ended up ordering 1080 grams, plus two bottles of soju and two cans of Coke. The total bill came $80.
While we were stuffing our faces, a fight nearly broke out at one of the other tables. A man in his 60s stood up and started waving his fist in his girlfriend's face.
I looked at Larry. "What the hell is that all about?"
"Yesterday, he caught her with another man. Now he's threatening to knock her teeth out."
I turned around to size her up. The lady was a fatty who appeared to be in her 40s. She had big tits and a huge ass.
I said, "Wow. She's a lot younger than grandpa."
"Shouldn't you help her?"
"Help her? Look at that sorry old bastard. She'd fucking kill him in a fight."
My boy laughed and laughed and laughed. We really had a fun time.
