Credit-Card Debt

 

(It's time to cut the plastic into little pieces.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty dump. A woman in her 20s from Pusan posed as math tutor over the internet. She then went to the apartment of another female for a job interview. The teacher murdered the lady with a knife and proceeded to dismember the body. After that, she packed the pieces of the victim into a suitcase and dumped her remains in a small town called Yangsan. Currently, the police have no motive for the crime. They released a statement claiming that the perpetrator might be a psychopath. Geez! You think so?

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. Anthony Bass is a relief pitcher for the Toronto Blue Jays. He released a statement a couple days ago saying that Christians should boycott Target and Bud Light because of their support of transgender surgery for minors. Well, as you can imagine, the shit really hit the fan. He was attacked online by every libtard in the universe due to his religious beliefs. Anthony had to back down for fear of losing his job. So he is currently apologizing for his intolerance on the issue of sodomy. In fact, he now considers butt-fucking to be a grand idea. I’m glad he saw the light.

The Dragon Lady walked into my room. “You know why I hate you mothah?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. Go ahead and tell me. Why do you hate my mother?”

“Because she twy to contwoh my rife. But she nevah give me da penny.”

“Why do you need her money?”

“Soon, I bloke. It da cwedit cahrd. I not have anyting reft.”

“How much do you owe?”

“I not tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because you not pay. Idiot!”

I briefly felt my asshole clinch tight with anxiety. Yet the sensation soon subsided. My wife has been causing me all types of problems for the last quarter century. In fact, I’m only with her out of pity. I truly don’t know what she’d do without me, but I’m thinking of cutting bait and running. The abuse is never ending. Physical. Emotional. Spiritual. Financial. And there’s only so much a man can take.

I pointed my finger in her face. “If I start getting calls at work over your debt, then we’re through.”

She snarled at me like an animal. “You tink I care? Good. Reave. I not need you. You da roosah. You money small. You not even da man.”

“You’re right. I am a loser. I’ve been losing since the day I met you. So let’s sign the fucking papers and end this disaster.”

I stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind me.

I got to work at 8 a.m. and made myself a cup of instant coffee. Then I called a Korean friend of mine who actually works as a lawyer. His name is Jay. Anyway, that’ what his foreign associates call him.

I said, “I hate to ask for free legal advice, but I have a buddy in a tight jam.”

He said, “No problem. I’m glad to help. What’s going on?”

“His wife has a credit card in her own name, and she’s been putting thousands of dollars on the plastic. Is he responsible for the debt?”

“Did he co-sign for the card or act as a guarantor?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? His signature is nowhere to be found on any paperwork?”

“I’m positive.”

“Then tell him to breathe easy. He’s in the clear.”

“This news will be music to his ears. Thanks for your time.”

I hung up the phone and jumped for joy. In fact, I was so ecstatic that I nearly broke down in tears. I shit you not.

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