Othello the Spaniard

 

(Othello got fired.)

Yesterday, I talked to my sons before going to work. The first item on the agenda was Rice-Boy Larry and school. He’s going into the 12^th grade come August, and the guidance team told him to pick three electives.

Nurse Ken said, “You should go STEM.”

I wrinkled my nose. “STEM? Are you fucking crazy? The poor kid is coming from Korea.”

Ken said, “So?”

“So, he’s been slaving in the academic salt mines all his life, and your brother could use a well-deserved break.”

Rice-Boy Larry said, “Then what would you suggest, Dad?”

I smiled at him. “How about criminal justice, culinary arts, and outdoor education…whatever the fuck that is? It doesn’t get any easier than that.”

Larry said, “Culinary arts? Is that where they let me cook?”

I nodded. “That’s right, son. It’s a cooking class, and if things don’t work out for you at Harvard, you’ll be well prepared to join me at the Waffle House.”

After that, I turned my attention to Nurse Ken. He’s been talking about joining the Air Force, and I think it’s a horrible idea. Why? The only reason I came back from Korea was because he had stopped talking to me. The kid desperately wanted me and Larry back in the States, and our absence was clearly grating on his nerves. And now that we’re all living under the same roof, he suddenly has the urge to fly off into the wide blue yonder. I mean, what kind of bullshit is that?

I said, “Tonight, you should apply for the county police. They make decent money, and your health insurance will be first-rate. On your application, make sure to tell them that you’re Asian.”

“But I don’t consider myself Asian. I feel more like a white man.”

“Son, you look like Professor Tanaka from the old WWF. Trust me. You ain’t passing for white, and your color might help you to land a job. There’s no Asian’s on the force in this part of the world.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m only half Asian.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. If we were to hold a contest to see who looked the most like Charlie Chan, then you’d definitely win.”

Mom got pissed. “Leave him alone! If he says he’s white, then he’s white.”

I sighed heavily. “I’m just trying to get him a solid career, old lady. That way we can all be together as a family.”

I eventually arrived at the Waffle House at the stroke of 9 p.m. and noticed that Othello the Spaniard wasn’t there. Instead, I was working with Weepy Wanda and a new girl named Georgia.

I said, “Where’s Othello?”

Wanda said, “He got fired.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “He got fired? But he’s the only motherfucker who actually hustles during the overnight shift. The rest of you people smoke dope, catch naps, and sit on your asses.”

Wanda said, “They think he was stealing from the company.”

I was flabbergasted. “Stealing? Othello? I find that hard to believe.”

“Too many of his tickets went missing, and he was suspected of pocketing the cash.”

“Goddamn. There is no balm in Gilead.”

A puzzled expression passed over Wanda’s face. “What?”

I clapped my hands and rubbed them together. “It’s a line from Poe’s The Raven.”

“Does it mean anything?”

“Probably not.”

I’m going to miss that kid. He always had my back.

But the night wasn’t a total loss. I ended up making $250.