Sex Dolls in South Korea

(Life-sized sex dolls are now available in Korea.)

I woke up this morning at eight a.m. and walked to the bathroom. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a shit. A court in Seoul recently ruled that it’s legal to import life-sized sex dolls to Korea as long as they don’t resemble minors. Consequently, there are now businesses popping up throughout the peninsula providing pleasure to lonely men who don’t mind humping lifeless mannequins. You pick your favorite doll and take her to a private room. Then you screw her brains out for a reasonable price. It’s pretty sick if you as me. But what are you going to do? Men are raunchy, and they love to get their rocks off.

I went to the living room and turned on Fox News. There was a huge Christmas blizzard in Buffalo, New York, which entirely crippled the city. That’s when the deadbeats and losers started looting the stores. None of them seemed the least big ashamed. They were caught red-handed by security cameras stealing everything that wasn’t nailed down. And all of the perpetrators were African American. I didn’t see any Asians or white folk. I love black people. They really know how to stick it to the man. If I had dark skin, I wouldn’t pay for a fucking thing, either. Five-fingered discount all the way, baby! Now that’s living large.

The Dragon Lady handed me a cup of coffee, and I smiled at her.

“Thanks, baby.”

She sneered at me. “I not you baby.”

“Much obliged, honey.”

“I not you honey, too.”

“Whatever you say, doll face.”

She changed the subject. “I go Emahrt today.”

Emart is the Korean version of Walmart. It’s a huge department store where you can buy everything from groceries to huge flatscreen televisions. The place is always packed to the rafters. During the holiday season, it’s usually so crowded that it’s hard to move through the aisles. I shit you not.

I said, “Is Rice-Boy Larry going with you?”

“He can’t. He not feel well. He keep sneezing and brohwing his nose.”

“So you want me to go?”

She nodded.

I shrugged. “OK. Not a problem. I’m happy to help.”

I always try to remain polite no matter how bad the news is. I’m wonderful that way. But I could feel my heart sink and my balls shrivel after making the offer to tag along. I’ve been married for 24 years, and my wife hates my guts with a passion. She never says anything nice. In fact, everything that comes out of her mouth is a giant insult. Therefore, I always do my best to avoid her at all costs. But sometimes I have to take one for the team. After all, I can’t force Rice-Boy Larry to do the heavy lifting. That wouldn’t be fair.

I tried to strike up a conversation as we drove toward our destination.

“Wow. This neighborhood is filled with coffee shops. I wonder how they make any money. The competition seems too stiff.”

The Dragon Lady looked me in the eye. “You da fucken idiot.”

“Why am I an idiot?”

“You luin my rife.”

“That’s not true. Your life was ruined long before you met me.”

“Asshoe. You money tellible.”

“Then get a job and help me out.”

“Soon I go work. Aftah dat, I riv with my mutha. I so tire of staying home to crean you shitty pantie. Yuck. Eet not fun.”

I patted her on the shoulder. “Maybe you’ll get lucky, and I’ll die soon. Perhaps my plane will crash tomorrow. Dare to dream.”

When we arrived at the department store, we caught an elevator to the fifth floor. That’s where all the restaurants are located. I watched her eat a pork cutlet smothered in gravy. She wolfed it down like a savage predator. The Dragon Lady is quite the woman. I’m lucky to have her.