Chapter 35

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Yesterday, I woke up at 7 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the paper while taking a nasty shit. A British DJ was convicted of drug smuggling by a court in Seoul. He got nabbed with a narcotic called GHB. GHB is often used to rape women. Just a drop in someone's drink will usually knock the victim unconscious.

The judge was very lenient. He sentenced the man to two years in jail. However, he suspended the sentence. In other words, this sick limey asshole won't have to spend a single day behind bars. If I were king of the world, I'd throw this pervert right off a cliff. It's a good thing nobody listens to me.

I drove to work in my fifteen-year-old Samsung automobile. The shocks squeaked during the entire journey. But I refuse to pay to have my ride fixed. There's no point. I only take the car to and from my place of employment. I plan to keep driving the piece of shit until it eventually dies.

The staff met in the library at nine a.m. We sang a hymn together. I can't remember the name of the song. I have a terrible voice. Usually, I just lip-synch. Then Mr. Lipps—the head of the middle school—gave his devotion. He talked about how many heroes in the bible often stumble and fall. He cited the lives of King David, Abraham, and Noah.

Five minutes into his sermon, Mr. Lipps began to cry. I was taken aback by the waterworks.

I met the Pastor later in the day. Along with being a preacher, he also teaches the bible classes at our school. He's had many unpleasant run-ins with Mr. Lipps.

I said, "What happened to Mr. Lipps? Did somebody piss in his cornflakes?"

The Pastor said, "He got reprimanded over the break."


"He's no longer allowed to coach or participate in the chapel committee."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"What happened?"

"Teachers and parents complained about him to the boss."

We went to lunch. I had French fries and rice. Eating in Korea is often difficult for me. Some of the fare is a little too ethnic for my sensitive taste buds. However, I feel it's important to remain social. So I eat what I can while talking cordially with my co-workers.

Another meeting was held in the library in the afternoon. We talked about hospitality—I think. The Principal is an intellectual, and I often don't understand what he's saying. For instance, he brought up the work of a Polish anthropologist who divides the world into scenery, machinery, and people. That's as far as he got before I started daydreaming.

Don't get me wrong. The Principal is a nice guy. I like him a lot. But I'm not a member of the intelligentsia. Nor do I wish to become one. Poor old Mr. Buffalo is just a secondary school teacher.

I helped the new girl with her syllabus. Her name is Paula, and she's from Alaska. Paula seems very nice. Nevertheless, I miss Beatrice. But we still communicate on Facebook.

In fact, Beatrice thinks my writing sucks ass. She was deeply offended by many of my rantings. However, I apologized, and we're friends again. Good for us.

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