Connie Kim was filling out a registration form to renew her driver’s license, never an easy task, especially when English is your third language. Even more difficult when your mother-in-law hovers over your shoulder with serious kimchi breath on the back of your neck, ostracizing you, telling you to close your o’s and cross your t’s. To be clear, her mom-in-law was Polish and loved to eat kimchi.
In a world without repercussions, no one would blame Connie for backhand punching the imposing mother-in-law, who for the sake of clarity, shall be named Naggie Gyllenhaalski. Yet, in this reality with so many repercussions like assault and battery, the biggest question was: why is Connie Kim putting up with this?
If you knew Connie long enough, and hadn’t seen her in the last two years, you’d be surprised she was married. She had always been proud of her independence. Her motto, or at least something she said as often as she could, was marriage is for the weak.
This is why the bicycle will always be more interesting than a tripod. The tripod is too predictable. In the same way a one-armed man swimming in circles is more intriguing than a normal two-armed man swimming a straight line. Yet, a three-armed man would be quite a spectacle, but throws a monkey wrench in the whole point being made.
Fact is people fall in love, even Connie. Eventually, even the most stubborn succumb to the theory that two united can be stronger than one, plus all of those tax breaks. It didn’t hurt none that Stanley, her brawny husband, knew how to please a woman.
Connie was no wide-eyed dummy. She knew that marriage would come with great sacrifices, but this, this annoying obese beast she had to drive around. It was like being forced to walk with crutches when you were perfectly healthy. Pointless.
All the while, Naggie insisted that Connie check the box for other for her race and not Pacific/Samoan. To spite her, she checked the box for Hispanic.