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Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A twenty-nine-year-old unwed mother from Daejeon moved in with her friends, bringing along her one-year-old son. Like most infants, the kid would often cry during the night. So all three of these reprobates used to frequently punch him in order to shut him up. Well, you guessed it. The boy ended up dying from his injuries. So now the prosecution has charged them with murder and is seeking a thirty-year prison sentence for these assholes.
I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.
She said, "My little Schnauzer keeps chasing Chicken Ken's cats."
"Life is so much better with animals in the house. They really brighten things up."
"Your son isn't happy. He loves those cats, and he says that our dogs are a couple of bullies."
I smiled at her. "The key to handling Chicken Ken is to ignore his bullshit. I mean, what can you do? Dogs chase cats. That's just the way life works."
Mom changed the subject. "Your sister is doing much better."
"What was wrong with her in the first place?"
"Didn't I tell you? She's been dealing with explosive diarrhea. But now her stomach's OK."
"Well, that's good news. How's her epileptic boyfriend?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "He seems all right. He's still working for the Dish Network as an installer."
"Holy crap. Let's hope that the poor motherfucker doesn't fall off the roof."
Mom nodded. "Don't make fun of the guy. Epilepsy is serious business. One moment you're fine, and the next you're flopping on the ground like a fish. Scary stuff."
I caught the bus and made it to my office at 8 a.m. I'm pals with an overwrought colleague who has a room on the same corridor as me. His name is Heywood Jablowme, and every little thing sets him off. He even cries actual tears from time to time due to his constant frustration. I guess weeping like a woman allows him to vent his bad feelings.
Anyway, we struck up a brief conversation.
He said, "I went to the office yesterday and gave them a piece of my mind."
"What's the problem?"
"I told them that they are giving you too much work and that soon you'll explode." He paused for dramatic effect. "I'm actually afraid that you might have a heart attack."
His words pissed me off, but I managed to keep my cool.
I said, "I appreciate your concern. Yet I have to tell you the truth. I've been a teacher for many many years, and I can pretty much do this job in my sleep. So relax. You don't have to worry about me."
Mr. Jablowme lives in a state of perpetual anxiety. And I get it. We have a lot of i's to dot and t's to cross. In fact, from time to time, many of us on the staff feel like we're drowning. But throwing my name about haphazardly with the leadership makes me seem like an incompetent boob. So he needs to keep his mouth shut before I slap him silly.
I eventually got home at 6 p.m. I took Rice-Boy Larry to the pig-soup restaurant. We stuffed our faces, and I drank two bottles of soju. A good time was had by all.
