The Amusing Life

NUMBER

THE BASIC TRAINING of soldier number 9 of the ROK Army’s 7th Division, 26th Regiment, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Company, 1st Platoon, 3rd Squad was disrupted by soldier number 8. Soldier number 8 of the ROK Army’s 7th Division, 26th Regiment, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Company, 1st Platoon, 3rd Squad was a harmless fellow from a remote village near the ROK Army’s 7th Division, 26th Regiment, 3rd Battalion who knew little about the world except for farming.

In the army, they use numbers to keep track of soldiers, to instill a sense of belonging, and to keep minds alert. In other words, when soldiers are lined up and the drill sergeant stands to the side and shouts, Head count! Number 1 shouts one, Number 2 shouts two, Number 3 shouts three, and so on. However, soldier number 8 of the ROK Army’s 7th Division, 26th Regiment, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Company, 1st Platoon, 3rd Squad, whose world consisted of farming and not much else and whose farthest journey from home was the thirty-nine kilometers from his house to the guard post of the ROK Army’s 7th Division, 26th Regiment, 3rd Battalion, used his own unique intonation and vocabulary to state his number. There was no other way number 8 could say it. When it was his turn, number 8 shouted, Ya-ight. When this happened, number 9 momentarily forgot where he was and laughed out loud.

The drill instructor in charge of the basic training of the ROK Army’s 7th Division, 26th Regiment, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Company decided that if there was someone laughing during line up in the rigorous army, neither rigor nor the army could be properly maintained. Accordingly, the instructor kicked number 9 in the shins.

Soldier number 9 of the ROK Army’s 7th Division, 26th Regiment, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Company, 1st Platoon, 3rd Squad didn’t mean to laugh, but he couldn’t help the outburst. After being kicked in the shins, he reminded himself that he shouldn’t make the stupid mistake of laughing out loud during line up in the rigorous army. He only had two shins after all. And even if he had hundreds of shins, all of them would hurt if they were kicked.

Head count, again!

Wu-uhn!

Number 9 didn’t laugh.

To-woo!

That wasn’t funny.

Thu-ree!

Laughing didn’t even occur to him.

Fo-or!

His shins were still sore.

Fi-eve!

That was when it felt like something as light as foam crept up his waist.

Si-ix!

Something seemed to bite the soles of soldier number 9.

Se-ven!

Number 9 bit his lip and clenched his fists. Laughing meant death. But—

Ya-ight.

That voice, so annoyingly small. Number 9 once again had forgotten that he was number 9 and broke out in laughter. The drill sergeant ran over in a huff.

Are you kidding me?

Number 9 was ready to cry.

No, sir!

You think I’m an idiot?

He wanted to cry, number 9.

No, sir!

Then why would you laugh?

The drill sergeant seemed like a person of reason. But merciless were his combat boots and fist.

If this kind of shit happens again, all of you will circle the training ground crawling with your heads on the ground and arms behind your backs. Be sure of that. Head count, again!

He tried not to laugh, that number 9. But that made it worse. All of the trainees of the ROK Army’s 7th Division, 26th Regiment, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Company loathed number 9. Even number 8 grumbled at him. But that only made it worse for number 9. Later on, not the Ya-ight but the mere sight of number 8’s butt rounding the training field, forehead to the ground was enough to set him off. The eyes of a breathless number 8, which were emerging from his crotch, shot a blameful look at number 9, and even that made him laugh. Watching the drill sergeant getting angry also made him burst out (in laughter). Tears rolling down his cheeks, sweating, and clutching his shins, he just couldn’t not laugh. Soldier number 9 of the ROK Army’s 7th Division, 26th Regiment, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Company, 1st Platoon, 3rd Squad was the first soldier to replace the word nine with the sound of laughter.

SWIM CLASS

AS THE DAYS got warmer, and the clothes became lighter, his wife’s nagging took on a tone of genuine worry.

My goodness, look at that stomach.

You’ve seen it forever. What’s wrong with my belly?

He nonchalantly stuck out his belly. But the truth was that he was feeling some discomfort because it felt like a pumpkin had attached itself to his stomach over the winter.

I just don’t get it. Do you have another wife I don’t know about? How can you be gaining weight when I don’t give you anything to eat?

His wife tilted her head questioningly. The reason for the weight gain was simple. The problem was that he didn’t like to move. It wasn’t like that in his younger days, when he’d first started his business. He worked actively and tended to the job more physically. Exercise was taken care of. But once his business got settled with more employees, the younger people did most of the work and he didn’t have to move around as much. Take driving as an example. He started to drive more frequently. He’d take his car even to the corner shop just one or two hundred meters away. Even if it felt like he wasn’t eating much, the small helpings of food consumed, alongside alcohol, while entertaining clients or during get-togethers with people at the office added up. Most of it was high in protein and fat, so it meant that he was eating far more calories than the calories in the regular meals he’d have consumed at home.

We have to do something about this. Honey, you should go hiking in the nearby hills at sunrise or something.

Who has time at sunrise?

Just get up a little bit earlier.

When I wake up at dawn, how should I put this, other things come to mind. Rather than groaning my way up a hill, we should do productive and efficient things that are more interpersonal, you know?

His wife, who was five years younger than him, glanced upwards with her youthful, pretty eyes, which still reminded him of the days when they’d dated.

Dear, you must think I’m joking. No. I’m taking action.

The next day, without delay, his wife headed to the nearby health club and signed him up for swim classes. That evening after dinner, there was more bickering.

Why swimming of all sports? There are so many other sports out there.

Just think of it as bathing every morning.

His wife continued to explain that there was no better sport than swimming for losing weight, and unlike hiking or soccer clubs, one could swim rain or shine. The health club was a pretty well-known one, with some big shot politicians from both political parties holding memberships in the past. Being so well-known, it was expensive as well. However, that wasn’t the problem. The membership card for the class his wife had signed him up for indicated that classes were from five to six every morning, with three days of lessons and three days of free swimming, and next to it were written the words, Beginner’s Class.

I tell you, I swam across the Han River and back in my younger days. But this is what you sign me up for? This class is for people who swim like bricks.

Oh, I had no idea. I thought the only part of you that’d float would be your mouth, the way you talk so much.

He wasn’t exaggerating. His doggy paddle was indeed as good as the next guy’s in his younger days.

You can go if you want. I’m not going to a beginner’s class even if I die drowning.

Just go. You can go and change classes.

The next morning he headed to the health club, grumbling. The club employee was very thin, almost painfully skinny.

Oh, no. The other classes are full for this month.

In that case, he said, he wanted his money back. The employee looked over his body and facial expression, giving him a funny look before she carefully continued talking.

Since you’ve already signed up, why don’t you try the beginner’s class just once? The class is in session. Try it today, and if you don’t like it we’ll give you your money back.

When he replied saying that he hadn’t brought his swimsuit, she quickly offered to lend him one. He grumbled again as he changed into it. He grumbled once more when he felt the squeeze of the swimsuit on his lower belly as he headed to the pool.

Once he entered the pool zone he couldn’t believe his eyes. Dozens of beautiful women were paddling with nothing but their swimsuits on. Of course, there was nothing strange about wearing a swimsuit in a swimming pool. But he was already exclaiming, Holy smokes! before he could stop himself. To hide his embarrassment, he asked the employee who walked behind him, Are all of the students young ladies?

No. The morning class is mostly people with day jobs. It’s just that this month we didn’t have any men sign up.

Before too long, he caught sight of a slim beauty who reminded him of his wife before they married. She was the instructor and was explaining basic swimming methods to the students, water dripping from her hair. He quietly sneaked himself in among the students. The moment the instructor noticed him, she blinked her eyes, as if surprised. That too gave his heart a tremble. He silently cried, Viva! Long live Korea! although he couldn’t figure out why those words came to mind.

OK, we’re going to practice what we learned. Everybody into the water.

After finishing her explanation, she herself was the first to enter the water, and in great form. He stopped himself just before diving into the water like the instructor. It occurred to him that since he was enrolled in the beginner’s class, he should in fact act like a beginning swimmer. He couldn’t let them find out the truth and advance him to the intermediate class. As a fat person in his early forties who didn’t know the first thing about swimming, he sluggishly moved to the side of the pool, rubbed water on his chest, and fumbled into the pool, holding onto the ladder like the other women.

Did you change classes? his wife asked him that evening. He answered in a serious tone.

They have a funny policy. They said they couldn’t change it since I’d already signed up.

What? That’s nonsense. Cancel it.

Well, I don’t think we should go that far.

Honey, do you know how much it is? It’s seventy thousand won. Seventy thousand. I’ll do it.

No, no. I gave it a try today, and it turns out I forgot all the strokes. I think starting at the basic level will be OK.

Well, now that just seems weird. You were so against exercising.

Today, I really saw how necessary exercise is.

The next morning, he bolted out of bed even before his wife woke him up and speedily drove to the health club. The majority of the class was young women with office jobs. It was difficult for housewives to make the early morning class because they were busy preparing breakfast. There were no men. He paddled enthusiastically while pondering the mystery of what the men of the world were doing instead of exercising, particularly instead of swimming in the early morning beginner’s class.

OK, let’s go underwater now. Whoever holds their breath the longest gets a prize. Put your arms around the shoulders of the person next to you. All ready? Everybody go!

Following the instructor’s cue, he submerged himself under water. On one side, he saw a young lady who looked about twenty, while on the other side a woman who looked about thirty was putting her arm on his shoulder. Regardless of their age, he felt quite blissful. From that day on, he didn’t miss a single day of class, come snow or rain or wind. On Sundays, when there were no classes, he was impossibly bored. He didn’t even feel alive. His wife was truly taken aback by this.

You really find swimming that enjoyable?

No, not really.

Then why are you so into it?

I told you. I need the exercise. Plus, just think of how much the lessons cost. It’s so wasteful to miss even one day.

Exercising really works, doesn’t it?

Yep.

Maybe I should also take classes next month.

He was so surprised that an agh got caught up in his throat, and he fiercely waved his hand.

No way. You’ll get anemic if you swim. You’re already too skinny as you are.

Skinny? I can feel my gut starting to develop.

Woman, you can start when your gut is as big as mine.

You’re looking slim these days. It seems it took less than a month for your potbelly to slim down.

No, I’ve still got a long way to go. It’ll take months of hard work at least.

One month passed, and then another, but he stayed in the beginner’s class. But something strange happened. Even when he did try swimming seriously, he realized he’d lost the ability to swim beyond the beginner’s level.

THE GHOST-CATCHING CIVIL SERVICE GUARD

THIS IS A story from ten years ago, of a happy guy who served his conscript duty as an off-base guard performing civil services. He was quite cocky for a civil service guard back in those times, enjoying the privilege of driving a car to and from work, which wouldn’t have been possible had he been a regular conscript. Although it was a deteriorating vehicle with a hole in the floor for air-conditioning, it was nonetheless useful for driving to work over the steep hill called Fox’s Hill.

One summer night, he was driving back home. At the top of the hill, through the rain, he could see a person dressed in white holding up a hand. He was sure that the person standing before his headlights was a young woman. This had always been his dream scenario and he yelled for joy as he slowed down his car. The woman, soaked in rain, was even prettier than he’d expected. She had a doleful beauty about her. A few strands of hair covered her face and she looked exactly like the girl of his dreams, with her half-closed eyes and parted lips, but he nevertheless felt the hairs on his back stand up. There was no way a woman standing alone on a deserted hill at night, and in the rain no less, was in her right mind.

He stopped his car anyway. He rolled down his window just enough for his voice to be heard and asked in a nervous voice, Do you need a ride?

The beautiful and frightful woman nodded her head, a blank expression on her face. She then extended her long, pale hand to grab the door handle. Quickly locking the doors, he said in a shaky voice, But you know, it’s nighttime and this is a hill known to be haunted by mythical foxes. Not to mention that it’s raining, you know? Could you show me some ID?

The woman just stood still for a while before she silently opened her soaked handbag with her soaked hands and took our her soaked ID card, handing it over to him through the open window. With trembling hands, he took a good look at both sides of the card and the photo. He decided that ghosts or mythical foxes wouldn’t have ID cards and so he let her in.

As soon as she took a seat, the car was filled with the scent of a woman’s skin still wet from the rain. The civil service guard felt like his nose was burning and that he’d go blind, but he kept his senses by clutching the steering wheel with all his might.

Where to? he asked, clenching his teeth to keep his sanity.

Just to the bridge. There’ll be a bus there.

She had an accent that was rare in the downtown area where he lived. It was a subtle country accent with a classic ring that could be heard only in