Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I took a nasty dump while reading the headlines on my smartphone. Japan has decided to open its borders and welcome more immigrants. How come? Because they're dying out as a nation. Nobody is having babies these days, and the population is dwindling. They're simply too busy working for their companies and earning yen to care for a family.
The same thing is happening to South Korea. In fact, this nation has the lowest birthrate in the entire world. Why? Many of the women possess graduate degrees and great careers. So they no longer feel the desire to find a man and raise children. Consequently, the peninsula will soon be flooded with Chinese migrants. But what the fuck do I care? I've got my own problems.
I had a brief conversation with Rice-Boy Larry as he chomped on his breakfast.
He said, "I'm going out with my friends today, and I won't be home until late."
I said, "More basketball?"
He nodded. "It's a lot of fun."
"Are you any good?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Probably not. But it's not about talent or skill. It's more about joy."
"OK, joy boy. Knock yourself out."
I caught the bus and made it to work by 7:30 a.m. I was making photocopies when I suddenly had another bout of diarrhea. I've been plagued with a stomach disorder for the last week or so. I found a bathroom, and all the poison streamed out of my asshole like hot lava. It felt really good. Yet have no fear. I'm getting better day by day.
I called my mother using Facebook Messenger.
She said, "I'm really tired. It's the fucking Lexapro."
"How much do you take a day?"
"Twenty milligrams."
I sighed heavily. "Can you cut your pill in half? Would that be a viable option?"
"I'm not sure. I'm not a doctor."
"Can you visit the guy?"
"I have an appointment in May."
I sighed again. "Well, you can't go cold turkey. You'll get withdrawal symptoms. Gradually try to wean yourself off of them."
I used to pop Lexapro back in the day. However, I didn't get the medicine from a psychiatrist. It was a general practitioner who gave me the drug. If the truth be known, I have a sneaking suspicion that I suffer from obsessive-compulsive disorder. I'm always being tortured by intrusive thoughts, and my anxiety level is often through the roof. The pills helped, but I haven't taken one in years. Instead, I rely on copious amounts of soju and beer. Luckily for me, alcohol works, too.
My giant friend Mr. Hurtz stopped by for some pleasant conversation. He had a grim look upon his face.
"This school is absolutely swimming in influenza and Covid. It's like a giant fucking petri dish."
I frowned and nodded in agreement. "You're right. But that's simply the human condition. We all get sick from time to time and spread the disease to our friends and family."
"The human condition sucks ass."
"Your only other option is to become a forest ranger or a truck driver. That way, you'll be able to keep your human contact down to a minimum."
"Well, I'm certainly not going to drive a truck. And I have absolutely no idea how one would go about becoming a forest ranger. So I guess I'm fucking stuck with this shit."
"Soldier on, my brother. Soldier on."
My day went well. Soon, I'll be reading The Cask of Amontillado with my high schoolers. It's one of my favorite stories. I've read it close to three million times.
