Savage Ennui

 

(I always try to get a kick out of life.)

Yesterday, I talked to my middle school students about the concept of savage ennui. I explained that General Zaroff in The Most Dangerous Game has a huge problem with boredom. So he needs constant stimulation to keep himself moving forward like a shark. Hence, he hunts humans as a type of sick psychotherapy. And my analysis is valid. Extreme boredom can lead to both acute and chronic mental illness in some individuals.

A guy named Ronny raised his hand. “Do you suffer from savage ennui?”

I pointed at myself and smiled. “Me? No way. I’m the complete opposite if you want to know the truth. Any little bit of excitement lights up my brain as if it were a pinball machine.”

“What’s a pinball machine?”

I sighed deeply. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

A girl named Jessica said, “Is tomorrow’s test going to be difficult?”

I nodded sympathetically. “That goes without saying. Sadly, many of you will fail.”

The class let out a collective moan of horror. Most of my students are Asian. They take their grades very seriously.

I threw my head back and laughed. “Don’t feel any anxiety. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Jessica said, “I’m not worried. I plan on getting an A+.”

“Well, let’s hope so. Because if you don’t, you’ll have to throw your dream of attending Harvard right in the toilet. Mark my words. This test will make you or break you. But like I said, try to relax.”

Later that morning, I had to take a shit. So I ran across the street to find a bathroom. I refuse to defecate in the school itself. Why? I’m afraid that someone will smell my foul odor and spread horrible rumors about the stench emanating from my asshole. And that’s the last thing I need. I’m a slave to my reputation.

I read the headlines on my smartphone while sitting on the throne. The amount of international marriages has gone up in Korea since the COVID ban was lifted. The majority of the brides hail from China, Vietnam, and Thailand. They marry Korean country boys in the hopes of a better life. Good for them.

At 11 a.m., I called my mother using Facebook Messenger. It was 9 p.m. Texas time.

I said, “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”

She said, “Actually, I’m about to go to bed. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. I’m still trying to get in touch with Nurse Ken. Is he at the house?”

“No, he’s working.”

“Has he been doing OK?”

“He’s got me all stressed out about this upcoming financial collapse. He keeps telling me that I should pull all my money from the bank.”

“Don’t listen to Ken. He’s a birdbrain.”

“Then my dough is safe?”

“Have no fear. The global governments won’t let the banks collapse in a million years.”

“What will they do?”

“Keep printing money until the cows come home. In fact, it might help your bottom line.”

“How so?”

“Raising interest rates is now off the table. So the price of all your real estate should go right through the roof.”

She shot me a big toothy grin. “Do you really think so?”

“I have no doubt in my mind.”

Mom giggled like a school girl. “That’s the best news that I’ve had in months.”

“Enjoy your success, and tell Nurse to go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut.”

We laughed and laughed and laughed.

I eventually got home at 6 p.m. and changed into my jammies. Then I ate dinner with my family at the kitchen table. We had dumplings and vegetable pancakes. The food was pretty good. I washed it down with generic cola.

Overall, it wasn’t a terrible day. Things could always be worse. At least I wasn’t born in Djibouti.