The Fruits of the Spirit

 

(Sometimes, I just blow my stack.)

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 nasty shit. Ten years ago, a 55-year-old man from the city of Yang-pyeong forced his way into the apartment of an elderly woman. She was seventy at the time and put up no resistance. Anyway, he told all the neighbors that she was his wife. But he had a different story for a local government welfare center, claiming that he was actually her nephew. They kept to themselves, and nobody ever knocked on the door to check up on the couple. Well, she recently showed up at the police with three broken ribs, stating emphatically that the dude is not her husband. The old lady is now eighty and says that she’s been abused for the last decade by lunatic who broke into her home and simply refused to leave.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I watched the news of the world on YouTube. There was a huge investigation into the Roman Catholic Church conducted by the state of Illinois. Thousands of young boys were molested by over three hundred pedophile priests. Sadly, most of the priests died a long time ago, so they will never face charges for their crimes. I have utterly no idea why anybody in their right mind would be a Roman Catholic. In fact, the man in charge of that institution wears a dress, a funny hat, and a pair of ruby slippers. So there’s no way that I’d let my sons go camping with him on the weekends. Yet people keep turning their children over to these wolves in sheep’s clothing with blind faith. I truly don’t understand the psychology behind it.

Rice-Boy Larry walked into my room.

He said, “Dad, I signed up for a field trip the other day.”

I smiled. “Great. Where are you going?”

“To India.”

“What?”

“The school is offering ten days in Mumbai.”

I angrily shook my head. “I’m well aware of that fact. But it’s not free, shit-for-brains. Do you have any idea how much it costs?”

He shrugged. “The whole package is around three thousand dollars.”

I was steaming mad. “That’s right. Three grand, you stupid fuckhead. What? Do you think I crap gold coins out of my asshole?”

“Mom said I could go?”

“Why are you asking her? You know she’s fucking crazy. You got to come to me first with this type of news.”

“No big deal. I’ll just cancel.”

I nodded in the affirmative. “Damn straight you’ll cancel.” I pointed my index finger right at his heart. “You need to get that big watermelon head out of your rectum.”

“It’s just that all my friends are taking the trip. What should I say?”

“I don’t care. But the truth never hurt anybody. Just tell them that your dad is a broke dead dick barely keeping his head above water.”

Rice-Boy laughed and walked away.

My day at work went smoothly. I managed to catch the game between the Nuggets and the Lakers in my downtime. Denver won by two points and completed the sweep of Los Angeles. But you got to hand it to LeBron James, love him or hate him. He’s 38-years-old, and he managed to score 40 points. The man is definitely a gifted athlete.

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