Domestic Abuse

 

(The police never helped me.)

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. In Korea, nine out of ten victims of domestic abuse never report the incidents to the authorities. I’m the opposite. I’ve called the cops several times on the Dragon Lady in the past, but the assholes were pretty much useless. For example, she once went after Ken with a broom handle when he was in seventh grade. So I pinned her against the wall, and my son got the police on the horn. They sent over a couple of officers who told me that this was Korea, and it was perfectly fine for a mother to beat her son with a piece of wood. Oh well.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. The former quarterback for the University of Florida is named Jalen Kitna. He’s the son of a former NFL player named Jon Kitna. Anyway, Jalen had pictures of naked pubescent teenagers on his computer. But there was one little problem. The girls were underage. Consequently, the-powers-that-be booked him on charges of child pornography. The judge, however, decided that the offense didn’t reach the level of a felony. Subsequently, Kitna plead guilty to a couple of misdemeanors. He won’t have to spend any time in jail.

When I was a sixteen-year-old kid, I couldn’t find anyone who was willing to have sex with me. Therefore, I watched a lot of porn with my friends in the basements of their houses. There was no internet in those days, so we had to find older boys who were willing to rent the films from the local video store on our behalf. Anyway, one of the movies featured a female named Traci Lords. She was only fifteen years old at this time, but she had told everyone she was twenty in order to get work. My point? It’s hard to determine the age of many young women. Therefore, a guy has to be very careful regarding his online activity. 

I drove to work with Rice-Boy Larry in the passenger seat. We struck up a conversation along the way.

I said, “You have to download all your images off your mother’s phone.”

He said, “Why?”

“Well, she’s leaving us, son. And you’re going to need those pictures next year when you renew your passport. The guys at the desk want photo evidence to confirm that you are who you claim to be.”

“What about the school yearbooks? Those would work, too.”

I nodded. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. But I don’t know where they are.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find them.”

“Just download the images, son. The last thing I need at this point is guff.”

“OK. I’ll download the fucking things. No need to get your panties in a bunch. Mom’s not going to leave anyway. The only way you’ll be rid of her is when you die.”

I smiled. “I think you’re wrong. I’ve been researching narcissistic personality disorder on the internet. These people go through what’s known as a discard stage. That’s when they have sucked all the juice out of their victim until there’s nothing left but a dried-out husk. After that, they pack their things and run away.”

“I hope you’re right. The peace and serenity are going to be marvelous.”

“Don’t set your hopes too high. The first couple of months will be difficult.”

And that’s true. The Dragon Lady will pretty much render us destitute. But I have $500 hidden away, and my mom has agreed to send me another two grand to see me through until my next paycheck. So hopefully this will set us straight until we get back on our feet.

(Did you like this post? Then read my novel for free. Click here.) 

(Give my message board a try.)