Whooping Cough

 

(I wonder if my ribs are cracked.)

I was still in Korea last November, and I can remember that the weather had turned a tad chilly. One of my homeroom students had a terrible cough. I mean, this poor bastard was really hacking his lungs up, so I sent him to the nurse

The next day, a few more of the kids came down with the same symptom. They kept coughing and spitting green stuff into the garbage can. Well, it was an outbreak of whooping cough, and it spread like wildfire.

And you guessed it. I contracted the illness, too. It was really horrible. In fact, the spasms were so violent that I might have actually cracked a couple of ribs. I shit you not. My chest hurts until this very day.

So why am I bringing this up? Because recently I’ve been dealing with a nasty cold, and every time I cough, the pain is unbearable. But I’m not complaining. I’ve still been going to work while keeping the illness to myself. However, I haven’t been writing lately due to the fact that I’m currently dealing with this malady.

Not that any of you sons of bitches care. Yet if you can keep me in your prayers, then I would certainly appreciate it.

Anyway, I woke up today after Nurse Ken began screaming about his boss. Even though he was in the living room talking to his granny, his shrieking awoke me from a deep slumber.

So I left my bedroom to see what all the hubbub was about.

He said, “My boss is a motherfucker.”

I nodded. “Could you be more specific.”

“The van I use to deliver the mail is a broken down piece of crap, and I always have to wait a couple hours before I start my route.”

“And are they paying you while they repair the vehicle?”

“Not a cent! I get $2,400 a month no matter how long it takes to finish the job.”

“Man, that sucks. What are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to fucking quit. It’s the only solution. Lincoln freed the fucking slaves.”

I nodded and took a puff from my vape machine. “Wouldn’t it be better to find employment before ditching this gig?”

“Fuck that shit. This isn’t the first time it’s happened. He gives me the crappiest van out of the entire fleet because he thinks I’m a pushover. And I’m tired of him defecating on my head.”

The thing about Ken is this: He’s not the type of kid who appreciates advice. In fact, he’s a bit of a hothead. But I understand where he’s coming from. Who the hell wants to sit for two hours without getting paid for their time?

Anyway, I went to work at 9 p.m. later that night, and I was expecting festival crowds since it was Saturday. Yet the place was fucking dead. This is the first time I’ve worked a ten-hour shift without putting at least $200 in my pocket. Sadly, the final tally was $160…which comes to a paltry 16 bucks an hour.

However, I looked at the lack of customers as a strange blessing. I’ve been feeling poorly, and it was a nice break from the usual chaos.

Weepy Wanda also worked the shift. She kept complaining about Jamaal.

She said, “I’m going to report him to the manager.”

“Why?”

“He never does his fucking side work. Instead, he goes outside and smokes grass.”

But here’s the thing about Wanda. She’s a pothead, too. For example, she spent an hour in her car that evening making love to her water bong. Yes. She actually brings a water bong to her place of employment.

That’s why I love working at the Waffle House. The drama never ends.

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