Yesterday, I took the bus home after work. I was able
to find a seat, and my heart leapt with joy. However, the driver was a maniac.
He ran a couple of red lights and came within a cunt hair of rearending an unsuspecting
vehicle. I nearly shit my pants.
Rice-Boy Larry called me. “I’m playing basketball with
my friends, and I won’t be home until seven.”
“But you have to order some stuff from Coupang.”
“Can’t that wait until tomorrow?”
“We’re almost out of bacon. So what will I serve you
for breakfast?”
“I’m fine with mandu.”
I shrugged. “OK. Less work for me.”
Mandu is the Korean
word for dumplings. Vegetables and tiny pieces of meat are shoved into a crusty
pastry shells. And all you have to do is throw them into an air fryer for five
minutes and put them on a plate. Then bang. You’re done.
I went to the little supermarket across the street and
bought some chicken to prepare at home. I also purchased spicy poultry sauce.
The meal was fantastic.
After that, it was time to do a load of laundry. I sat
on the sofa and watched Marianne while the clothes were being washed. I
also drank a big can of beer. Marianne is so scary that I had a hard
time looking at the television screen. Instead, I played around on my
smartphone to avoid pissing my pants with fear.
My son came walking through the door right when one of
the characters was levitating off the ground and spewing blasphemous obscenities.
Spooked out of my mind, I jumped out of my chair like a silly child.
Larry said, “What’s your problem?”
I pointed at the TV. “It’s this show. It’s terrifying.”
“Then why don’t you turn it off?”
I nodded in agreement. “I want to, but I can’t seem to
control myself.”
“Did you make dinner?”
“Yes, there’s chicken in the kitchen. Are you sure
that you don’t want to order bacon?”
“I’m sure. I’ve got too much homework to do.”
I hung up the laundry out on the veranda. People in
Korea never use dryers, so my apartment only came with a washing machine. I
guess it saves on the electricity bill. I briefly thought about vacuuming my
floors, but I was just too tired.
I finally went to bed at 10 p.m. and slept like the
dead. I didn’t even wake up during the night to take a piss. Lately, I’ve been
exhausted.
The alarm sounded at 5 a.m., and I called my mother
using Facebook Messenger.
I said, “How’s Ken doing?”
“He’s working and taking five classes this semester.
He didn’t get home until eleven last night.”
“Why so late?”
“He had to clean the place. Chick-fil-A closes at nine,
and then the crew has to make the restaurant all spic and span for the next
day.”
“Don’t let him work too many hours. School should come
first.”
“That’s what I told him, but he never listens to me.”
She suddenly changed the subject. “You have a horrible angry look on your face.
What’s the matter?”
I sighed heavily. “I have to take a dump, and I’m
holding it in.”
“Well, go and do your business. Don’t let me get in
the way.”
After emptying my bowels and taking a shower, I caught
the bus to work. It was time to start the day.
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