I was in my office today, at that dreadful bank I loathe, and decided to indulge myself in another dose of the past. I sat at my desk, eating lunch—a boring cheese sandwich and a glass of tomato juice—and read a few more pages of my childhood.
Dear Bump…
I saw Jesse Chao in Church yesterday. He said he’s been practicing every day for the last month. I haven’t played chess since June. Dad said, “You gonna let some little c***k boy take first place again?”
Dad suffers from that thing I learned about this week. It’s called racism. Besides, Jesse isn’t Chinese. He’s from Australia. His mom sang opera in Sidney, and his father is a cowboy who used to be an astronaut, until the war broke out in the West, and he and Jesse’s mom had to go undercover to fight against the rebel snakes that had ta
