Judgment

 

(God judges the people, not me.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a giant shit. A man in his 20s from the city of Seongnam was watching YouTube videos when his father angrily burst into the room. He told his child to stop wasting time and to look for a job. His son replied by picking up a butcher knife and stabbing his pappy to death. It turns out that the kid is on anti-psychotic medicine and suffers from severe mental issues. His mother turned him over to the police.

I called my mom using Facebook Messenger. And to my surprise, Ken the Chicken Man picked up the phone.

I said, “You look great. You’ve really been packing on the weight. You used to be as skinny as a pretzel.”

“They feed me well at Chick-fil-A. I get a free dinner every day.”

“Fantastic. That poultry is really agreeing with you.”

“So you’re divorcing the Dragon Lady on the 31^st?”

I nodded. “That’s the plan. But I haven’t seen her for the last two months. I don’t even know who she’s living with.”

“Probably her sister.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Are you coming back to Texas?”

I shrugged. “Do you want to see your dad slinging hash at the local Waffle House? Won’t you be ashamed?”

“I don’t care. A job’s a job.”

If the truth be known, I really don’t want to return to the United States for another couple of years. The thought of pulling Rice-Boy Larry out of high school seems like a terrible idea. Plus the extra time would allow me to save a little nest egg. I could return to my home with forty grand in my pocket. It would be enough to get me started on my new life. But it’s all in God’s hands. I’m a huge believer in fate.

After taking a quick shower, I prepared bacon and hash browns for Larry. I felt hungry, too, so I wolfed down three jelly donuts as the pork was frying. Then I pulled the kid out of bed so that he could enjoy his breakfast. He ate the vittles like a pig at a trough and washed them down with a bottle of fizzy water.

My day at work went OK. I’m currently studying a poem called Blight with my high schoolers. It was written by a lady named Edna St. Vincent Millay.

I said, “Edna went to a college called Vassar. Has anyone heard of it?”

A boy raised his hand. “It’s extremely expensive. It caters to rich white girls.”

I nodded. “That’s correct. You have to have a ton of money to attend Vassar. But you can make a ton of important connections if you manage to get accepted.”

One of my angry female students shook her head in disdain. “That’s not fair. There’s too much wealth disparity in the world these days.”

Her words were a tad ironic. She comes from a family with more money than God while assholes like me perform backflips for an occasional piece of steak. Yet I’m not saying that to put her down. All the kids I teach are well-to-do, and the vast majority of them are polite and friendly. So I don’t grudge them one red cent. God judges the people, not me.

Plus my life could be a whole lot worse. At least I’m not getting ass raped in the Congo by angry rebels. I always try to look on the bright side. It’s what keeps me going.

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