had it not been for the laws of this land, i would have slaughtered you.
painted in his features was an expression of pure shock. then there’s sadness in his eyes, the brown too glossy. he made the joke expecting her to be dissolving into a fit of laughter. it was a foreign gag and he presumed she would understand the context fully, knowing well she had an easier time speaking the english language. somehow, he found himself mingling with these american kids more often than he imagined. he didn’t exactly mind ending up in such an unforeseen position but in a way, he felt pressured to conform. not so much that he wasn’t his usual old-fashioned self anymore, but more in a way that seemed drastically awkward and out of place.
he tries to say it over again loudly, hoping it’ll come across more coherently that way since he hasn’t really delivered the punchline just yet. now he does so proudly, as if repeating the question that prompted such a hostile response (though in jest) would turn the events in his favor. he was simply thinking he might have mispronounced.
“what did the korean father tell his daughter?”
from here, crickets resonate like a church choir’s harmony warm up singing until he comes through on his own without waiting for her to play along with a ‘what?’ that she meant to reply. with a weird, dry, and feigned chuckle, he shouts. “you allergic to bees…” he pauses. “good! get a’s or c your way out of my house!”
