Bad Son

 

(Should I stay, or should I go?)

 

Yesterday, I taught my classes. My favorite is the 7^th grade. They’re very cute and friendly. We are currently reading a story called The Most Dangerous Game. It’s a famous tale about a man named Rainsford who is hunted like an animal by an elitist aristocrat from Russia. The antagonist’s name is General Zaroff, and he’s a real douchebag. I’m a huge fan of The Most Dangerous Game. Is it that good? Probably not. But it appeals to low-IQ bottom feeders like me.

For lunch, I drank three raw eggs and consumed four tangerines. Suddenly, I had to shit. So I hightailed it across the street to find a bathroom. I’ve decided to stay away from raw eggs in the future. I can no longer digest them properly, and they’re now turning my stomach inside out.

I got home at 6 p.m. and watched the Pelicans take on the Kings in California. New Orleans is complete crap without Zion Williamson. In fact, they might be the worst team in the league. It’s a three-race between them and Houston and Detroit. Anyway, the Pelicans lost again. Sacramento blew them away in the second half. I hate supporting bad teams. But if I switch allegiance, I become a fair-weather fan. So what’s a boy to do?

I switched on Netflix. I’m currently rewatching a program called You. It’s about a psychopath who rapidly falls in and out of love with women. He constantly stalks them like a hungry lion and murders a lot of people along the way. Ho hum.

I went to bed at 10 p.m. I dreamt that I was drinking in a bar with a group of people whom I never met before. I ordered a round for everybody in the joint, but I only had twenty dollars in my pocket. Luckily, a fight broke out between the patrons. A midget began beating up a child, and the whole place erupted  into violence. This allowed me to sneak away without paying the bill. Yes. I’m even a financial loser when I slumber.

I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a cup of coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while sitting on the toilet. Many foreign females in Korea feel ashamed of their bodies. Why? Lots of Korean ladies are hot and skinny. This rubs chunky white chicks the wrong way. They think it’s perfectly OK to go through life as a plus-sized queen. Well, they won’t get any argument from me. I’m a fat motherfucker, too.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “I cooked some chicken on the grill.”

I said, “That sounds great. My mouth is watering just listening to you.”

“It wasn’t very good. In fact, it was bland.”

“Did you smother the poultry with barbecue sauce?”

“No. I used Worcestershire sauce instead.”

“Well, no wonder. Worcestershire sauce completely sucks ass. It contains no joy whatsoever.”

She changed the subject. “I have to drive to the utility company tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I can’t remember if I paid the light bill. I got a notice in the mail saying that I’m delinquent.”

“Make sure you keep on top of that stuff. If you don’t, then you might be sitting in the dark next month.”

“I’m just not the same since my stroke.”

“Can Nurse Ken give you a lift?”

“I don’t think so. He has to work. But don’t worry. I’m fine.”

I often feel like a bad son. Mom is elderly, and I’m many miles away from home. Maybe it’s time for me to return and get a job at Walmart. I wrestle with this issue quite frequently these days. It rests on my brain like a sack of bricks.