Sin

(Am I a slave to sin?)

Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a shit. A 60-year-old geezer from Incheon purchased a slingshot from a local hobby shop. After that, he started shooting at his neighbors’ houses with steel ball bearings. He managed to shatter three windows before finally being nabbed by the police. He was promptly arrested and charged with vandalism. His excuse was this: He wanted to test the power of his new toy.

I ate hash browns as I watched Fox News. The president of Mexico says that Americans get stoned all the time because our family units are in a state of collapse. The talking heads at the network laughed at him, but I didn’t find his words funny in the least. In fact, they rang true to my ears. There are too many unloved children in my nation. And these broken homes often produce drug addicts and criminals.

I looked at the Dragon Lady. “Where’s Rice-Boy Larry?”

She said, “He still with da fliends.”

“Is he going to be back in time for church?”

She shrugged. “How I know?”

So I gave him a quick call.

I said, “When are you coming home?”

He said, “Not for a while.”

“What about church?”

“Don’t worry. I’m going with my classmates.”

“Are you throwing your poor old father to the wolves?”

“You’ll have to go by yourself this week. But we can attend next Sunday’s service together.”

I gave him my stiff-upper-lip routine. “OK. Not a problem. Have a good time.”

But here’s the God’s-honest truth. I felt crestfallen. I hate doing stuff when I’m alone. It depresses the fuck out of me. Yet I had better get used to it. My boys are all grown up, and they don’t want to spend the rest of their lives hanging around a broken-down old man like me. And there’s no point in crying like a baby. The world hands everybody a giant sack of shit from time to time. So what’s a daddy to do?

I turned to the Dragon Lady. “Do you want to go to church with me?”

She said, “Do you know me? Because I not know you.”

“I guess that’s a no.”

She nodded and smiled like the devil. “You are correct, sir.”

So I was forced to drive all by my lonesome. And let me tell you something. It’s not easy tooling around in a Korean city. The assholes who frequent Starbucks were blocking the streets, and I had to swerve in and out of traffic just to avoid them. No big surprise. Those pumpkin-latte motherfuckers are always causing trouble.

The sermon itself was the same old, same old. The pastor is still talking about the Book of Isaiah. He says that God has destroyed the prosperity of Egypt because the Muslims who inhabit the country steadfastly refuse to honor Christ. He gave us some shocking stats. Did you know that the average Egyptian makes less than $5,000 a year? Their paltry income is punishment for their lack of faith.

I struck up a conversation with him after the service.

I said, “I’ve been watching In the Name of God: Holy Betrayal on Netflix. It’s very entertaining.”

He frowned at me like I had just pissed in his hands. “I never watch R-rated movies.”

“Even documentaries?”

“They are sinful, and they might destroy my mind. Be careful. They can do the same to you.”

I decided to drop the subject. What’s the point of arguing?