Yesterday, I talked to the Pastor on Facebook. Some of you might know him from one of my previous books. He’s the bible teacher at my former school in South Korea. Well, it turns out that Mr. Lipps got demoted yet again. He yelled at a bunch of teenage girls who were wearing too much makeup, and the parents found both his language and demeanor to be a bit harsh. So he isn’t the operations manager anymore. He’s now just a lowly English teacher like the rest of the grunts. The Pastor thinks that his next step is probably out the door, but I disagree. Lipps has made himself indispensable. The institution simply can’t function without him.
I went to bed at 9 p.m. I am currently sharing a mattress with the Dragon Lady. Lately, I’ve been plagued with horrible nightmares, and it’s nice to have a living person next to me as I howl with terror. Last night, I had a dream about a female demon. She was very pretty. She put a hex on me in Latin. I don’t even speak Latin. I screamed out in fear. My wife told me to shut the fuck up, and I quickly resumed my slumber.
I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the paper while taking a nasty shit. A man from Hunan Province died of organ failure, and his sister went to visit her brother’s corpse in the hospital out of respect. However, to her surprise, somebody had stolen the poor man’s eyes. Body parts are very valuable in China. For instance, I could sell my kidney today for three thousand dollars. Big Brother used to remove the organs from executed prisoners, but the government stopped doing that in 2014. Now there’s a shortage.
I stepped into my spacious shower. The hot water against my blubber felt marvelous. I thought about beating my meat, but I simply couldn’t get it up. I’m fifty fucking years old, and I’m no longer the stud that I used to be. But I’m perfectly OK with that. After all, what’s a boy to do?
I walked to work with Rice Boy Larry.
He said, “My knee hurts. So do my legs.”
I said, “What’s the problem?”
“Physical Education. I hate gym class. It leaves me in pain.”
“You and me both.”
“I thought you were a wrestler back in the day.”
“I was, but I had no talent. However, I was in great shape. I could do a million pushups and run mile after mile without getting completely knackered. Yet I still got my ass kicked. I’m a lover not a fighter.”
“Well, I’m in terrible shape. There’s no way that I could ever be a wrestler.”
“Wrestling sucks. Trust me. You’re better off being a fat little jellybean who enjoys sitting on the sofa. Besides, Asian chicks hate jocks. But pasty-skinned bookworms really turn them on. In fact, I’d say that you’re well on your way to becoming a playboy.”
I arrived at school before 7:30 a.m. We had a morning meeting, but I can’t remember a word that anybody said. I just smiled and nodded as the speaker gave his message. I’m wonderful that way.
During homeroom, I left a message about Michelle Obama on one of my favorite internet community boards. It seems that Michelle cried for thirty minutes after Orange Donald’s inauguration. She blames his victory on racism, but the real culprit is her husband. Barry did such a bad job that the American people selected a vulgar billionaire rather than another member of the political establishment.
I’m curious to see if this bulletin board will zap my message. Just the other day, one of the mods called me a naughty spammer who needs to mend his evil ways. We shall see.