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Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A pervert in his 20s from the city of Daejeon snuck into a female bathroom and hid in one of the stalls. And you guessed it. When ladies entered the facility to piss and defecate, he filmed them over the top of the stall with his camera. Well, one of the victims caught him in the act and reported his weird behavior to the police. Thankfully, he was dragged down to the station and admitted his crime under intense interrogation. Fucking pig.
This guy's behavior makes no sense to me. Pornography is ubiquitous around the globe, so there's no reason to go to such lengths to enjoy the beauty of the female body. Satisfaction is just a keystroke away.
I called my mom using Facebook Messenger.
She said, "Chicken Ken is really pissed off today."
I said, "How come?"
"Well, his fucking cats destroyed the carpet in the upstairs bedroom. So a contractor is coming tomorrow to lay down ceramic tile."
"And?"
"What do you mean, and? You know how he is. Your son detests any type of change. He's stubborn and set in his ways."
I nodded in agreement. "He's always been pigheaded, even as a young child. Have you decided to sell the house?"
"Yes. It's simply too big for us and hard to maintain."
"Are you going to get slammed with a capital gains tax?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I've yet to look into all the fine print."
Mom says the house is too big for her, but she's full of excrement. Buying and selling real estate is one of her passions. I guess you could call it a hobby. Yet to her credit, she's never failed to make a profit. In fact, she's earned a great deal of cash over the last thirty years. Good for her. Sadly, when it comes business and finance, I have the IQ of an army ant. That's why I'll probably end up dying in the street. If you see me living in a tent amongst the skid-row lunatics, please be kind and toss me a sandwich.
I caught the bus and made it to school by 8 a.m. Then I shot the shit with my friend Mr. Hurtz. He's a giant of a man who hails from Australia.
I said, "I've been watching a documentary about rugby on Netflix."
"That's European six-nations bullshit. If you want real rugby, you have to find it in South Africa, New Zealand, or Australia. Everything else is counterfeit."
"That might be true. But it's still an entertaining show."
"I'm not going to waste my time with a bunch of European fags." Suddenly, his face turned bright red, and this was followed by an uncomfortable pause. "Do me a huge favor, mate. Don't tell human resources that I used the word fag. I could get into a lot of trouble."
I laughed out loud. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."
I eventually arrived home at 6 p.m. and took Rice-Boy Larry to our favorite chicken restaurant. We ordered a platter of the poultry that was super spicy. In fact, it was so hot that it just about burned a hole in my mouth.
I took a sip of draft beer. "Man, I'm going to feel this in the morning when I'm taking a dump."
Larry turned up his nose in disgust. "Please, Dad, I'm trying to eat over here."
I patted him on the hand. We really had a good time.
