Killing the Children

(Only a nut would slaughter their own flesh and blood.)

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. A woman in her 30s from Suwon gave birth in 2018 and 2019. She killed both her children right after they were conceived and placed their bodies in her refrigerator. She blamed the murders on her poverty. But we all know the truth. This woman is thoroughly corrupted by sin and mental illness. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not making excuses for her actions. She belongs in prison and should be subjected to hard labor for the rest of her life. Yet only a nut would perform such crazy acts upon her own flesh and blood.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. A disturbed father from Ohio got angry at his young sons. So he lined them up in the backyard and shot them to death with a rifle. The kids were only seven, four, and three years old. He also put a bullet in his wife. However, she is expected to make a full recovery. The crime was discovered when a passing motorist noticed a girl running in panic down the street. She told the driver that her dad was in the process of slaughtering the family. He immediately called the cops, and the murderer was captured without a fight.

I took the elevator to the parking garage with Rice-Boy Larry by my side.

I said, “I can’t believe the parking spot I got last night.”

“It was good?”

“Good? That would be an understatement. Maybe it’s the best in the entire complex. I’m so shocked. It’s like Jesus was smiling upon me.”

“Why are you surprised?”

I smiled at him. “Son, I didn’t get home until 10 p.m., and we live in Seoul. You know how crowded this city is. It’s a sprawling Asian metropolis. Shit! I thought I’d be sleeping on the side of the road.”

We got out of the elevator and walked into the bright sunshine.

I pointed at my ancient SUV. “There she is in all her glory.”

“Wow, that is a great spot. Right next to the handicapped section.”

Parking next to the handicapped section is always a boon. It provides more space for a fat man to open the passenger-side door, and get in and out of his automobile comfortably.

We drove to work in silence. Along the way, I tried to call my mother using Facebook Messenger. However, she didn’t respond.

I said, “I hope the old lady is all right.”

But Larry didn’t say a word. His eyes were closed, and drool was running down his chin. The boy usually doesn’t sleep until two a.m. in the morning. He’s a real night owl.

I got to my room at 8 a.m. and tried calling her again. This time, she answered.

Mom said, “Sorry. I fell asleep and left the phone in my purse.”

I shrugged. “No big deal. I just like to keep in touch to make sure that everyone is still breathing oxygen.”

She laughed out loud. “Don’t worry. We’re all doing well.”

My day at work went OK. I am now reading a story called Regret by Kate Chopin with my high schoolers. It’s about an old lesbian who never had children. As fate has it, she is forced to spend a few days watching her neighbor’s offspring, and she quickly grows attached to them. She howls like a jilted cheerleader at the end of the tale when the rugrats are returned to their mother. Good stuff. 

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