Or how to master the art of Dong Chim.
Excerpt from Chapter 4 - CELEBRATION
“And how is work going?” asked Mona, sounding interested.
“Oh same old, same old,” I replied. “I just wish I wouldn’t hate it so much.”
“Don’t put so much stress on yourself, Abby,” said Dewey. “You’re so young. You should just be enjoying yourself, trying out stuff and making mistakes.”
“I wish I could, Dewey, but my parents already think that multiple things are wrong with me, so I don’t think they would understand it if I was to tell them about my need to find myself. Plus that loan won’t pay itself while I’m figuring things out,” I sighed.
“You know,” Dewey said, his voice quiet and thoughtful, “I remember when I was traveling through North Africa. I was walking on the street with one of the locals I used to do business with and there was this building I could see from afar. It didn’t really look like a big work but you could tell it was far from being finished. So I asked the guy what they were building and he said to me, ‘It’s been going on for almost five years now. No idea what it is but I bet it will take another five years to find out.’ And then he just laughed.” Dewey paused for a moment as if trying to piece together the right words in his mind. “What I’m trying to say, Abby, is that I have been to countries where buildings get built almost overnight and where the next big thing keeps kicking the other one out. And what comes out of it? We store every piece of information without even processing it.” He paused again to gesture at the food before us on the table before continuing. “It’s like eating a delicious meal with the finest ingredients prepared by the best chef and eating it all in one gulp without taking the time to enjoy any bites. It's useless if it doesn’t do any good to your soul, body, or mind.”
“So what do you recommend for my soul, body, and mind?” I quipped, taking a sip of wine.
“Well, I don’t know. Something like a massive life-changing shock . . . perhaps a Dong Chim! Yes, that’s it!” he said, clapping his hands. “That’s exactly what you need!”
Dewey was getting excited; he almost looked like a kid who had just found out about Santa Claus. “What did you say?” I asked. “What’s a Dong Ching?”
“Dewey, stop it,” said Mona. “Don’t listen to him, Abby,” she warned me.
“A Dong Chim,” he said again, emphasizing the second word by saying it as slowly as possible and drawing out the last letter. “That’s a poop needle!” he finally said, looking as if he felt delighted with himself.
“And what exactly is that poop needle about?” I dared to ask, hoping I wouldn’t regret the question.
“I found out about it in Korea. It’s a kid’s game,” he said, swallowing a bite of food and rubbing his hands together as if he were about to tell us a wonderful story. “Well, basically, you just bring your hands together in a gun shape and then you scream ‘DONG CHIM!’ he said, his thumbs and index fingers extended together and pointing at me.
“And then what? You just scream like a mad man?” I asked, puzzled. I really didn’t want to know where the whole “poop needle” aspect came into play.
“No, then you stick your finger gun up the ass of a nearby person! Brilliant, isn’t it?” he concluded, sounding confident. “Seriously, Abby, I just think you need something to get you moving, and I think that one,” he said, miming it again, “is the perfect one.”
I burst out laughing. Dewey at his finest. “Cool, so you recommend I experience a near-death anal experience and then my life will just start looking like one of those movie scenes, you know, when the girl just has a very messed up life and then she decides that things have to change?”
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