Murder in Seattle

(A pregnant Korean woman was gunned down like a dog.)

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 pregnant Korean woman named Eina Kwon owned a sushi restaurant in Seattle. She was driving downtown with her husband when she stopped at a traffic light. A homeless bum walked up to her car and killed her with a pistol. That’s correct. Shot her right in the head for no reason. The doctors tried to save her child, but he died shortly after he was removed from her womb. They caught the guy who committed this atrocious crime, and he will now spend the rest of his life in prison. Ironically, he’ll experience a higher standard of living behind bars.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. A man in Arizona named Steven Jackson stepped into his backyard to enjoy a cup of Joe. Suddenly, a black bear appeared out of nowhere and savagely mauled the geezer, dragging him 75 feet down a ravine. The neighbors could hear his screams, and they immediately ran outside to distract the animal. Nothing worked. It kept biting the poor son of a bitch in spite of the attempted intervention. Finally, somebody got a rifle and slew the beast. But it was too late. Mr. Jackson succumbed to his injuries. He was 66 years old.

I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “Did you monitor your blood pressure this morning?”

She shook her head. “No. I completely forgot if you want to know the truth.”

“That’s two days in a row.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take it tomorrow.”

“You had a stroke not too long ago. You really need to keep on top of this stuff.”

She nodded. “I agree. I won’t forget again.”

“Your best bet is to make it a morning ritual. Get up and eat that medicine. Then check your vital signs.”

“Got you, boss. Message received.”

I changed the subject. “I tried calling Nurse Ken, but he never answered.”

“I don’t know why. He’s upstairs playing his computer games. It’s not like he has anything better to do. Would you like me to get him?”

I shrugged. “That’s OK. Let him relax. I’ll try again later.”

“Your boy has been very helpful. He went to the pharmacy today to get my prescriptions filled.”

“He’s a good kid.” I paused for a moment. “Has he applied for the police force yet?”

“I don’t think so. But I’m not 100-percent sure. I try to stay out of his life.”

“That’s probably the best policy.”

I drove to work with Rice-Boy Larry. Once again, he never said a single word. Instead, he slept the whole way with his mouth hanging open. Drool was even rolling down his chin. My boy never goes to bed at a decent hour. Instead, he spends most of his free time studying. It’s a huge problem in Korea. The children live in a constant state of exhaustion. The middle school kids are usually OK. But the highschoolers are a bunch of zombies.

I spent the morning shooting the shit with my friend Richard Hurtz. You should see this guy. He’s a giant. In fact, he can almost touch the rim of a basketball hoop without even jumping. I’m surprised he’s not playing in the NBA.

I said, “I’m still worried about getting fired.”

He said, “Why? Everybody likes you.”

“Because I got nabbed looking for another gig.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can stay here until you die…if that’s what you want.”

“I hope so. This place ain’t perfect, yet it keeps me in bacon.”

He laughed and laughed.

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