Sunday, February 10, 2019

Cleaver


 
 
Chapter 65

          Yesterday, I woke up at noon and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the news on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A student named Zhang Ying-ying was attending the University of Illinois in order to get her Ph.D. in engineering. One fateful day in 2017, she made the mistake of accepting a ride from a stranger named Brendt Christensen. Brendt brought the unsuspecting girl to his apartment and butchered her like a hog. Federal prosecutors are currently seeking the death penalty for the crimes of kidnapping and murder. And good for them. We should stone this asshole at the city gates.

          I stepped into my spacious shower. The hot water felt great as it slapped against my blubber. I thought about an Italian porn star named Monica Roquefort. Monica is a three-hole gal with dusky skin and a delicious ass, and it wasn’t long before I popped a Woodrow. I jerked off using plenty of shampoo and conditioner for maximum comfort. I shot my load in less than five minutes. My orgasm was quite explosive. I really had a good time.

          I dried off with one of my wife’s tiny towels and used the hairdryer to remove the moisture from my groin area. I’m one of those poor unfortunates who suffers from jock itch, and I soon noticed that I was almost out of anti-itch cream. I walked downstairs and told my wife.

          “Where did you hide the rest of the medicine? I need a new tube.”

          She said, “I not tell you.”

          I shook my head. “You not tell me? What the fuck does that mean?”

          “I in pain, and you neva notice. You not care.”

          “What pain?”

          “I sad all da time. You luin my rife.”

          “I ruined your life? So now you want me to walk around with itchy balls to pay me back?”

          “You da asshoe.”

          “Fuck it. Keep your medicine. I’ll just buy my own.”

          Jock itch is caused by a fungus. It’s similar to the type of fungus that also causes athlete’s foot. So I googled how to spell athletes foot in Mandarin and took a picture. Then I showed the photo to the girl who was working behind the counter at the local pharmacy, and she gave me some anti-fungal cream. Problem solved.

          I walked back to my apartment like a conquering hero. I showed the Dragon Lady my ointment.

          “There! Now I have my own fucking medicine. And it’s Chinese. You can flush that Korean shit down the toilet.”

          She began sobbing uncontrollably and ran into the kitchen. She emerged with a meat cleaver.

          “I fucken kill you! Asshoe! I fucken kill you!”

          I hid fearfully behind the sofa. I had a big cushion in my hand ready to shield myself against any oncoming blows.

          “If you hit me with that, they’ll put you in jail. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a Chinese prison? Just calm down.”

          “I fucken hate you. I not aflaid of plison. I neva see you again. Dat is good thing.”

          “Let me get my phone and wallet. I’ll take off for a couple of hours. It’ll give you time to relax and calm down.”

          “Go, you fucken asshoe. I hope you hit by car.”

          So I went to a nearby coffee shop and ordered a cup of earl gray tea. It was delicious. Then I called my mom using WeChat.

          She said, “Where are you?”

          “I’m at a coffee shop drinking tea. It’s delicious.”

          “Are you by yourself?”

          “Yeah. I pissed off my wife, and she threatened to kill me with a meat cleaver. So I figured it was wise to let her cool off.”

          “Son, one day she’s going to murder you. Mark my words. You aren’t safe.”

          “I know, but Rice-Boy Larry loves his mom. I can’t leave him in Asia.”

          “Be careful, son. Try to sleep with one eye open.”

          “I will.”

          I returned to my humble abode two hours later. My wife had simmered down and was watching Korean dramas on her iPad. It’s strange. The Dragon Lady would never cheat on me in a million years. Hers is an all-consuming jealous love. But she would have no qualms about putting a knife through my heart during one of her rages. So what’s a boy to do?

6 comments:

  1. Please take care of yourself Buff, you're my greatest form of entertainment. Some of us have actually stayed put here on the peninsula, and you know how boring life here can be. I am also "off the sauce", so life here tends to be rather mundane. I truly look forward to reading your BS and would find it quite depressing should you meet an unfortunate and untimely end. Get out of that horrible relationship, listen to your mother. I'm sure you realize that she has your best interest in mind, and it'd be great to read about your new adventures as a free man roaming the range. What are you waiting for, a cleaver to the skull? Get going already!

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  2. Good god man. Buy two tickets and run for the States.

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  3. While Early Grey is an excellent refreshment, if I were to be decapitated by the morn, Id spend my last few bucks on a bottle of rye.

    My nerves steeled, a visit to the hardware store for a chainsaw, a brick or two, some plastic mesh fencing and a rowboat.

    Its a sicilian message...

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