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. A 47-year-old South Korean man was killed in the Philippines during a gunfight with the police. The dead guy was named Choi, and he got smoked by the authorities after they caught him stealing jewelry from a posh neighborhood in Cebu City. Choi was with two of his friends when the shootout occurred. His pals are now in jail with the rest of the riffraff as they await their trial. Crime only pays when you have important buddies who will back your play.
I had a brief conversation with Rice-Boy Larry as he ate his breakfast.
He said, "You owe me fifty dollars."
I said, "You'll get your fifty when you give me the twenty I loaned you yesterday."
So he dug in his wallet and produced the cash. "Here you go."
I put the bills in my wallet and handed him the fifty. "Do you have any plans today?"
"I'm going to sleep over at a friend's house."
I shrugged my shoulders. "Will his parents be there?"
He nodded. "Yes. His mother."
So I gave him the green light. But I did so with a heavy heart. I really hate being alone--especially during the evening hours. I'm one of those superstitious fuckheads who always hears suspicious noises when the lights are out.
I caught the bus and made it to work by 7:30 a.m. Then I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.
I said, "I had a weird dream. I was driving a car, and there was an ugly yellow bird hanging for dear life onto the side-door window. So I stopped at a red light, and it hopped right onto my index finger and wouldn't let go. I didn't know what to do with the poor beast, so I placed it on the passenger's seat."
Mom said, "What happened then?"
"Nothing. I had to piss like a race horse, so I woke up and did my business."
She took a sip from a can of Coke. "The bird is a symbol for your wife."
"You think so?"
"I know so." She paused for dramatic effect. "It's yellow, it's in rough shape, and it's completely out of options. Does that sound like anyone you know?"
"Holy shit. Maybe you're right. My interpretation was far more literal. I've been missing my dog terribly since the Dragon Lady left town, so I though it was more about compassion for animals."
"Nope. The bird is definitely your wife."
Later that morning, my friend Mr. Hurtz stopped by my room to shoot the shit. We had a heated discussion about Manchester United. He told me that the squad is loaded with talent, but that poor leadership has led them down the wrong path. I told him that he was full of shit.
I said, "Back in the day, they had Keane and Rooney and Beckham and Renaldo all playing together. I could have coached that team to a championship. Leadership has very little to do with success in sports. It's all about the talent on the field."
"There's no way that a fat man like you could ever manage a soccer team."
"What are you talking about? I did it in America as a high school teacher. It's not as hard as it looks."
"You're absolutely fucking insane. It's like talking to a child."
Then he got up and left. He was actually in a huff. Oh well. What's a boy to do?
