I went out tonight after work for a walk around my neighbourhood. Though it was muggy, there was a good wind blowing and I thought it would be nice to breathe in the air whilst walking around making children scream looking at my devil eyes.
There are a couple women in the 'hood who won't look at my face, and they're not playing around either. They avert their eyes, and if I come to close to them they'll actually throw their hands up to shield me from them. One lady works in the restaurant where I've been eating soon doobu jjighae for lunch almost everyday. She's a very nice lady, and spends a lot of time at the very front of the shop making kimbap facing the window looking onto the street. I like to pop up suddenly, smiling, and spread my fingers out on the window. She screams every time, and it makes me laugh.
My doctor threatened today to stick a big needle in my forehead and suck out whatever's inside the big lump that's not going down. I balked and he agreed to another day of "observation" and "injection" (asshicular) with another twenty-two and a half pills. I'm absolutely rivaling, if not beating, my eighty-three year old grandmother in pill popping. She's got a handy little case with letters representing the days of the week on each of the seven compartments. Every Sunday night she divvies up her pills into their appropriate day. Luckily, I don't need one of those, as medicine here comes pre packaged in wax paper in their appropriate doses. Seven and a half pills, three times a day, in my case.
Tonight, on my walk, I strolled past Lotteria - a popular fast food joint that's kind of like "McDonalds." The shop was closed for the night but the door was still open. A man was outside kneeling beside a hole in the ground. A man-hole cover of sorts had been pried up, and he was spraying the contents of a long can into the hole. I stopped to have a look at what he was doing and peered down into the ground. It looked like maybe it was the drainage area for the restaurant, and it turns out the man was waging war against these giant cockroaches that were scurrying up in waves. For the giant bugs who made it past the spray, he stomped on them with his shoe and kicked them back down in the hole.
I still have the heebie jeebies, and therefore have no rational explanation as to why my mind imagined fashioning a skull-cap out of dead cockroaches and wearing it while walking around, smoking on a fat kimbap like it was a cigar, devil-eyes and all.
Yakitori Taisho revisited
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