Saturday, June 16, 2018

Let It Go


 
Chapter 46

          Yesterday, I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the news on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A woman named Holly Davis rear-ended an automobile during a minor fender-bender in Arizona. In a fit of rage, she got a gun out of the glove compartment and shot the driver of the other vehicle several times in the head.

          The victim’s name is Jiang Yue. Ms. Yue was a nineteen-year-old international student from China studying at a local university. She died at the scene. Sadly, her boyfriend bore witness to this terrible slaughter. I’m sure it’s an image that he’ll never be able to erase from his head.

          Holly Davis pleaded guilty to second degree murder and was given a twenty-five-year sentence by a bleeding-heart judge. This out-of-control liberal jurist pointed to Holly’s drug abuse as the true reason underlying the homicide. Ms. Davis sounds like a dangerous maniac to me. Somebody should do the world a favor and throw her off a cliff.

          I walked downstairs and ate oatmeal for breakfast. It came with granola and tasted pretty good.

          I turned to The Dragon Lady. “I have to be out of here by seven. I have a meeting.”

          She shot me the stink eye. “You not command me. I not you srave.”

          “I didn’t say that you were my slave. I’m just saying that Rice-Boy Larry has to be ready by seven.”

          “Why you not do it? You his fadda. Why alrays me?”

          “Fine. If he’s not ready, he can walk there by himself.”

          To make a long story short, we left the apartment at 7:10 a.m. But I wasn’t late for the meeting because we didn’t actually have a meeting. I just like to get to school early every now and then, so I’m not above lying to occasionally get my way.

          The weather has been awfully hot and humid here in Beijing. I was covered in a layer of sweat by the time I got to my classroom. I called Ken the Atheist using WeChat.

          I said, “How’s the wonderful world of chicken treating you?”

          He said, “I’m tired. I just pulled a forty-hour week.”

          “Forty hours is considered full time. You’re on your way to becoming a man.”

          “I’ll be old enough to vote and watch porno before Christmas.”

          The thought of it made me sad. I suddenly remembered taking him to see Disney’s Frozen back in 2013. We had been living in Busan, Korea, at the time.

          “This sucks!” he had protested. “Why do we have to watch this shit? It’s for girls.”

          “All the other movies are in Korean,” I had told him. “It’s this or nothing.”

          He had given me the stink eye. “You really have to start learning the language.

          “Sorry, son. I’m just too old and stupid to master an Asian tongue.”

          It turns out that we both love the film to this very day. In fact, Let It Go is one of my favorite songs. Who knows? Maybe I’m half-a-fag.

 

          I taught the eleventh grade at two p.m. We finally finished I Am Malala. I passed back some essays.

          I said, “Many of you blame Malala’s father for the incident.”

          For those who haven’t read the book, Malala’s dad ran a school for girls in Pakistan’s notorious Swat Valley. The Taliban shot three of his students, including his daughter Malala. Nobody died. The victims are now grown women who currently reside in England.

          Patty Wang said, “He isn’t responsible. In fact, his actions were brave.”

          I said, “Well, the head of the Taliban in Pakistan just got greased in a drone strike.”

          Patty Wang said, “Greased? What does that mean.”

          I said, “He’s dead.”

          But none of the kids seemed to care. They’ve got their own fish to fry.

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