Murder

 

(Life's not easy.)

Yesterday was a holiday, so I didn’t have to go to work. Instead, I watched Netflix as I reclined in bed. I’m now on episode 7 of Red Rose, and to be quite honest, I’m a tad disappointed in the program. I thought the antagonist was an angry demon. But that’s not the case. Instead, murderous internet assholes are the real villains. To make matters worse, these lame shitheads look like a bunch of computer pussies and hopeless nerds. Even an old man like me could take them in a fist fight. My advice? Give this show a wide berth. Don’t waste your time.

Later in the morning, I switched on Fox News. Tucker Carlson featured a short interview with Kyle Rittenhouse, the young man who gunned down the reprobates in Kenosha, Wisconsin, back in 2020. Kyle is currently being sued by a young pervert named Gaige Grosskreutz. Gaige pointed a loaded pistol at Kyle’s head, prompting Mr. Rittenhouse to blow off Mr. Grosskreutz’s bicep with an AR-15 rifle. Yes, America has gone to a new low point in its history. You’re no longer allowed to defend yourself against murderers. Rather, you simply have to stand timidly and let them slaughter you--especially if you had the audacity to vote for Trump.

I took some time to read the bible. I study the scriptures daily. I’m on the part where the sons of Alpheus—James and John—implore Jesus to let them sit on his left and right-hand side. They have no idea that Christ is about to be hung on a tree and that those spots are reserved for two very unlucky thieves. But Jesus tells the brothers not to be discouraged. Their cups of bitter suffering will come soon enough. Actually, the fate of these men is much more pleasant than what befalls the other disciples. James is eventually beheaded by King Herod Agrippa while John is exiled to Patmos. True. It’s no walk in the park, but it’s better than getting skinned alive or crucified upside down. It isn’t easy being a friend of Jesus. Just saying.

Suddenly, the Dragon Lady came rushing into my room.

She shouted, “You da mothah-fuckkah!”

I said, “Why?”

“You son!”

“What did he do?”

“He tell me I clazy. And he say that I need da mentah house.”

“But you are crazy. And the mental house isn’t a bad idea.”

“I not rike you insult. You not have appleciation for my work.”

“Work? What are you talking about? You’re unemployed.”

“I not unemproy. I cook and crean and do da raundry. It take many hour. I hard workah.”

And she’s a hundred percent correct. My wife’s not a lazy person. In fact, she toils tirelessly around the apartment performing her endless chores like a mindless coolie. She wakes up at 4 a.m. every morning to vacuum. Then she vacuums again at 5 a.m. Then she vacuums again at 6 a.m. At 7 a.m., she takes a break to mop the floor. And this obsession with cleanliness continues until she goes to sleep at midnight. She drives herself batshit crazy from the time she wakes up until the time she finally retires. I’m sure there’s a pill that would alter her disturbing behavior. Yet she steadfastly refuses to get help. I have no idea what to do about the situation.

Tears of rage started flowing down her cheeks. “I going to jump out da window. And you will be solly forevah.”

I said, “Before it gets to that, why don’t you make an appointment with a doctor?”

“I not need da doctah. But you go jail.”

“Why am I going to jail?”

“Because I write da lettah. I tell da porice dat you kill me.”

“You’re going to tell the cops that I threw you to your death?”

“Yes! And you nevah see you mommy again!”

I shrugged and sighed heavily. I thought about arguing with her, but I couldn’t see the point. So I watched the game between the Bucks and Nets, instead. Milwaukee emerged victorious. They’re now on a fifteen-game winning streak. Good for them.