The Man

 

(Like it or not, we're all under authority.)

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 nasty shit. Korean universities are having trouble with helicopter moms. When Junior fails his class, Mom often shows up on the campus to yell at his professor. Education is taken very seriously here on the peninsula. In fact, this nation remains Confucian to its core. Therefore, bad grades are seen as immoral behavior. Bottom line? Korea is a pagan country which worships religions like advanced math and science. I kid you not.

I made bacon and hash browns for Rice-Boy Larry. He was sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. We’ve been using the heat for the last couple of days. So our apartment is now extremely cozy and comfortable.

I said, “I spoke to your mom last night.”

He shrugged. “What did she want?”

“She told me that you gave our Netflix password to your cousin.”

He nodded. “I did. About three months ago when your wife ran away.”

I smiled at him. “Anyway, Netflix is going to bill us another five bucks a month.”

“Is that a big deal? I could call and tell him to get his own fucking subscription. Yet it seems like cheap behavior to me.”

I took a sip of coffee. “You’re right. Why get my panties in a bunch over five clams?”

My Korean nephew’s parents make a lot of money per year. In fact, they live in a house worth millions of dollars and own both a Land Rover and a Mercedes. But I’m the dumbass paying for their child’s entertainment. I’m not going to lie. It grates on my nerves. Yet, with that said, he’s a nice kid. And I certainly wouldn’t want to injure his feelings.

I caught the bus to school, and the ride was quite pleasant. The driver was a gentle soul. He actually followed the speed limit, and he didn’t run a single red light during the duration of the journey. Trust me. Most of the transit workers in this neck of the woods are downright insane. So it’s nice to occasionally not tremble with fear while commuting to work.

I got to my office and 7:30 a.m. and talked with my colleague Richard Hurtz. Richard is a giant of a man. He stands nearly seven feet tall.

He said, “I’m getting tired of this fucking place.”

I said, “What’s wrong?”

“They want me to move my classroom to the other side of campus. And I have to accomplish this task by the end of the week.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I didn’t take it lightly. I walked right into the principal’s office and told him what a loon he is.”

“Did he get angry?”

“Angry? Hell no. The son of a bitch just smiled at me like I was a goddamn retard.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Well, I have to pack my shit and lug it over there as soon as possible. I mean, what fucking choice do I have? He’s the fucking boss, so I have to listen to the motherfucker.”

“Maybe I could help you.”

He sneered at me. “No thanks. I’ll find some of the younger guys and see if they’re free. No offense.”

“None taken.”

I eventually got home at 6 p.m. and watched Netflix. I’m still enjoying Wentworth a great deal. I’m on the part where Ferguson tries to kill Bea by drowning her in the sink. Good stuff.

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

(Give my message board a try.)