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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 postal worker from Seoul got fired from his job. It turns out that he dumped over 16,000 pieces of mail during the height of the Covid pandemic. The court sentenced him to six months in prison for his crime. However, the judge suspended his jail term and put him on two years of probation, instead. The defendant said that stress was the cause of his bad behavior. Lots of people were calling in sick which led to long work hours.
I made eggs and toast for Rice-Boy Larry. Lately, he's been a lot happier because he no longer spends a ton of time studying for school. In fact, goes to bed at 11 p.m. religiously and doesn't have to get up until six.
I said, "Are you worried about your calculus test?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Not really. What will be will be."
I patted him on the shoulder. "Listen. I'm glad that you are no longer a studying machine. But with that said, you don't have permission to fail all your classes."
"Fail?" He shook his head and grinned like a retard. "Don't worry. I have everything under control."
"Did you learn how to factor a cube?"
"Well, I'm no Sheldon Cooper. But I think that I've mastered the basics."
It's hard for me to yell at my son because I was quite the dullard during my high school years. In fact, I can't remember ever bringing home a book. I did read The Catcher in the Rye during my junior year, and it made me laugh. However, the other novels pretty much just froze my brain. The Pathfinder. The Scarlet Letter. Little Women. Wuthering Heights. No thank you. I even hated To Kill a Mockingbird. How I'm an English teacher is fucking beyond me.
Anyway, I caught the bus and made it to my office by 7:30 a.m. Then I shot the shit with my giant Australian friend, Richard Hurtz. The guy is seven-feet tall and can dunk a basketball.
He said, "Russell Crowe has really let himself go. Have you seen the bloke lately?"
I nodded in agreement. "Yes. He's a giant fat ass."
"And talk about soft and doughy. He used to be pure muscle."
"It happens to all of us. I'm soft and doughy, too. Yet in my heyday, I was a varsity wrestler."
"You? I find that hard to believe."
I clapped my hands together. "Well, it's true."
"Did you win many matches?"
"A few. Sadly, however, I took up drinking and smoking when I was sixteen. Then my budding athletic career completely shit the bed."
"But you're not a world-famous actor. He actually has fans who care about him."
I took a sip of coffee. "That's true. Sadly, I'm simply a failed writer who will probably die while living in a tent."
"Cheer up, my friend. Things will get better."
I smiled at him. "I'm not depressed. My name is written in the Book of Life."
"That's great. You keep the faith, and one day you might get rescued by the Great Pumpkin."
My day at work went OK. I'm starting The Canterbury Tales with one of my senior classes. I'm a huge fan of Chaucer. I like him much better than Harper Lee.
