Bloodshed

 

(People die all the time.)

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. Today marks the anniversary of when the slaughter on Jeju Island began back in 1948. Korean nationalists killed Korean communists by the boatload over a period of roughly six years. Some say that the death toll might have even reached 100,000 people. However, most historians put the figure at 30,000 murdered souls. Either way, it’s a lot of blood. But time heals all wounds, and the citizens of this nation have pretty much put the incident behind them. C’est la vie.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched Fox News. Trump flew his private plane to LaGuardia Airport and drove to Manhattan to face his impending arraignment. He is spending the evening at one of his many properties and will appear before the authorities in the morning. Orange Donald is going to make a ton of campaign money with his mugshot. He plans on putting it on hats and t-shirts in order to raise funds for his upcoming presidential campaign. I wish that I could purchase one in the future, but I live in South Korea and I doubt that the merchandise will be available for sale in my neck of the woods.

I drove to work with Rice-Boy Larry in the passenger seat of my ancient SUV. I talked to my mother during the journey on Facebook Messenger.

She said, “How’s your wife doing?”

I said, “She’s still as crazy as a bedbug.”

“What’s she doing now?”

“We live on the 25^th floor, and she keeps grooming Dolly right next to an open window.”

“And?”

“Well, she refuses to shut the screen. So one false move, and my puppy will be reduced to a pancake.”

Mom gasped. “That’s not good.”

“Tell me about it! But the world is filled with fucking idiots. Do you remember Eric Clapton’s maid? She cleaned the musician’s high-rise apartment with the window wide open. Eric’s poor son plunged to his death. The kid was just a toddler.”

Mom nodded and added her own story. “There was an old man who went on a cruise with his family. He placed his granddaughter on the ship’s railing, and the poor girl fell overboard into the sea. She died, too.”

“I know. It’s freaking unbelievable. All these deaths could have been prevented with the sense that God gave a goose.” I sighed heavily. “Fucking idiots!”

On the bright side, my day at work went well. I’m reading a new story with the middle school. The name of the tale is Harrison Bergeron, and it was written by Kurt Vonnegut. Harrison Bergeron is very famous. Most of you were probably forced to read it when you were growing up.

I looked at the children. “I’m a huge fan of Vonnegut. So if I catch any of you students badmouthing this selection, then two points will be removed from your Dojo totals.”

Dojo points count towards toffee and other gifts—such as dried noodles and chocolate bars. However, they don’t actually affect the overall grade.

One girl scoffed at me. “That’s not fair. South Korea is a free country, and we’re entitled to our opinions.”

I said, “Yes, but South Korea doesn’t exist in this room. In fact, you are now sitting in Jack Woodd Land, and this tiny nation is a dictatorship.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Do you know who the El Presidente is in Jack Woodd Land?”

“Jack Woodd?”

“That’s right.”

I took away one of her Dojo points for being so cheeky. She moaned in horror. Her reaction made me feel wonderful.