Pedro Is an Asshole

(My mom really hates my stepbrother.)

Yesterday, I got home at 6 p.m. and noticed to my horror that I was out of jelly donuts. So I took the elevator to the bottom floor and enjoyed a smoke in the parking lot. Then I went to the store and bought my favorite breakfast item. At this particular location, I can get eight donuts for six bucks. There are probably better deals out there, but I’m paying for the convenience.

I returned to my apartment and vacuumed the floor. While working, my mind was flooded with a particularly disturbing childhood memory. I grew up in the New England countryside before moving to a chocolate city at the tender age of sixteen.

Anyway, there was a low-IQ family in Connecticut who lived about twenty minutes away. The smartest member of the clan was a kid named Thomas. Tom was certainly no genius, but he wasn’t nearly as retarded as the rest of his kin. He had a low-IQ brother named Raymond. And they both used to pork their low-IQ sisters in order to get their twisted jollies. The entire town knew of their misdeeds,--including the police--but nobody said a word. Incest amongst weirdos was tolerated back in those days.

Rice-Boy Larry walked through the door at 7 p.m. He had been playing basketball with his friends, and now he was covered in sweat.

I said, “How was the bus ride home?”

He frowned. “It was terrible. I had to stand the entire way.”

I nodded. “Same here. We were all packed in like sardines. What’s up with that? It’s been awful lately.”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. But it gets worse each day.”

Even though public transportation is far from ideal, I try not to complain too much. I find the bus to be an excellent source of exercise for an old eunuch like me. In fact, my physical health has improved vastly since the Dragon Lady ran away. My elbows and knees no longer ache like they used to. And I’m sleeping through night without having to wake up and take a piss.

I cooked dumplings for dinner, and then I sat on the sofa while watching Netflix. I’m now on season 2 of Peaky Blinders. And let me tell you assholes something. Netflix is absolutely wonderful. It costs about eleven bucks a month here on the peninsula, and I get great entertainment 365 days a year. The subscription has really brought me a ton of joy.

I finally went to bed at 9 p.m. and slept like the dead. The alarm sounded at 5 a.m., and I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

She said, “I really fucking hate your stepbrother.”

I said, “What has Pedro done this time?”

“Not a thing. It’s his attitude that burns my ass.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Did you know that the son of a bitch watched me cut the grass without even offering to lend a hand?”

I smiled weakly. “Well, in Pedro’s defense, he did have a serious heart attack a couple years ago. It almost killed him. Perhaps his doctors want him to take it easy.”

She shot me the stink eye. “You never take my side!”

“It’s not about taking sides. But you wouldn’t want to kill the poor guy. Next time, get Chicken Ken to help you out.”

“I can’t. He’s always working, and he doesn’t get home until 10 p.m. most nights.”

“Have him do it on his day off.”

“I don’t care what you say. Pedro’s an asshole.”

We finally agreed to disagree, and I eventually caught the bus at seven-thirty.