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. The homosexuals want to hold a rally in Seoul square during the summer. But their petition has been refused by the-powers-that-be because the site has already been booked. So the sodomites will now have to move their Queer Festival to another location. Most Asians aren't huge fans of the gay agenda. In fact, the very idea of anal sex seems to disgust them. My opinion? Well, I actually don't have one. It's not my country, so I keep my nose out of Korean social and political affairs.
I prepared breakfast for Rice-Boy Larry, and we struck up a conversation as the eggs were frying in the pan.
I said, "Do you have any tests today?"
"No."
"Is there anything going on?"
"No."
"Not a thing?"
He thought about my question for a moment. "I might go play pool with my friends tonight."
"Are you any good at it?"
He shook his head. "Not really. The only talent I have in life is long-distance running."
"I thought you were a whiz at calculus."
"I can perform better than most of the other retards. But I'm certainly no Sheldon Cooper."
"Fair enough."
The city of Seoul is dotted with thousands of pool halls. Yet they aren't the unsavory places that you are imagining. High school kids frequently go to these establishments to let off steam, and alcohol isn't served no matter how old you are. In fact, Korean pool halls just might be the safest places in the entire universe. You won't get murdered, raped, or sodomized.
Anyway, the bus strike was short lived, so I was able to use my favorite form of transportation to get to work. A ride in Korea costs about one American dollar--which seems quite reasonable in my humble opinion.
I got to my office at 7:30 a.m. and called my mother using Facebook Messenger.
I said, "How's Sis doing?"
"Not so hot. Her principal says that she wants to turn her school into an excellent establishment and that Sis simply isn't A-plus material."
"Holy shit! Talk about a fucking insult. She needs to march right back to her union boss and let him know the news."
Mom sighed heavily. "Actually, I was wrong. Sis never went to see her union boss. Instead, she reported her principal to the head of the special education department."
"Well, that's a stupid fucking move. The leadership in the average school district are usually all friends. So now they're circling the wagon."
"I know. But you can't tell your sister a fucking thing. She's a hardheaded woman."
My day went well. Soon, I'll be reading The Last Leaf with my middle school class. I'm not a huge fan of O. Henry. I feel that his work often manipulates the reader with sentimental emotions. Whenever I read The Last Leaf or The Gift of the Magi, I always have to hold back my tears. It makes me quite uncomfortable.
I looked at my kids. "I'm reading this story under protest. Therefore, don't expect me to smile or laugh. Instead, I shall wear a perpetual frown for the entire duration of the text."
One boy raised his hand. "That's kind of weird."
I shrugged my shoulders. "That's just the way I roll."
