Because I had ordered a few too many packages, the old woman at the delivery station downstairs demanded a million yuan in management fees. Afraid my rage disorder would flare up, I didn't argue with her and simply went home. Who knew that night, Mrs. Wang from the station would show up at my door and hurl a box of opened cookies at my face. “What kind of garbage food did you buy? My grandson got diarrhea after eating it. You're responsible.” I was so furious that I had an episode right there, forgetting the director's warnings. But Mrs. Wang slapped me. “Why are you glaring at me? Pay up, and pay me now!” The next second, though, I started laughing.
