Make My Day

 

(The Dragon Lady is acting up again.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 8 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines from my favorite newspaper while taking a shit. A Vietnamese immigrant living in Seoul got arrested for stealing smartphones from drunkards on the subway. He proceeded to fly the merchandise to Vietnam to sell them to his countrymen at a steep discount. He made more than $15,000 dollars doing this. But now the jig is up, and he’ll be deported after serving time in prison. Good riddance.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched Fox News. A popular Russian blogger named Vladen Tatarsky was a big supporter of the war in Ukraine. Vladen was a committed Russian nationalist and a huge fan of Vladimir Putin. During an organized event at a local PC room in Saint Petersburg, Russia, a woman handed him a gift. It was a bomb disguised as a bust of Tatarsky, himself. It blew the blogger to pieces, and now he sleeps with the fishes.

Suddenly, Rice-Boy Larry and the Dragon Lady started yelling at each other in Korean. I asked my son what the hell was going on.

He said, “Dolly walked into the bathroom when Mom was taking a shower. I guess she got her paws wet and tracked water throughout the apartment.”

I shrugged. “Big fucking deal. Just get a towel and dry it up.”

“I did. But you know how Mom is.”

I nodded. “Trust me. Her moods are familiar to me as the back of my hand. I’ve been living with the crazy bitch for almost twenty-five years.”

Five minutes later, the Dragon Lady entered my room with a look of disgust on her face.

She said, “Why you not rook aftah da dog?”

I said, “Look after the dog? I thought I was. It’s not like she ripped up the sofa or anything. It’s just a tiny bit of water.”

“Why it alway me who do da work?”

“Always you? You haven’t had an actual job in years.”

“Dorry is my puppy. I pay foh her. Maybe I trow her out da window. You rike dat?”

“Do what you want. But if you hurt that little beast, I’m calling the cops on you. And then you’ll have to pack your bags and get the fuck out.”

“I trow your computah out da window, too.”

“Be my guest. However, the police will be notified, and justice will be meted out.”

“Ret’s get da divorce.”

“Fine. Let’s fucking do it. Bring the papers, and I’ll sign them. I’m certainly not begging you to stay.”

“Asshoe!”

I smiled. “You can scream all you want. I don’t care. But if you hit us, I call the cops. And if you hurt the dog, I call the cops. And if you break our shit, I call the cops. Your days of tyranny are over. Rice-Boy is almost grown up now. So nobody gives a flying fuck about your temper tantrums anymore.”

“Maybe I tawk with you boss and tell him you da cunt.”

“Go ahead. The worst that will happen is that I’ll get to go back to America. Trust me. It’ll make my day.”

Later that afternoon, I walked to church with my son. He’s missed the last two weeks due to illness. We are still on the Book of Isiah. Larry slept through the entire sermon. It was kind of embarrassing if you want to know the truth. But what’s a daddy to do?