Blood Siam

By Christian Davidson

Driven to do something good for humanity, but sucked in by all the temptations offered him, Jay Michaels finds himself balancing altruism with hedonism in Thailand, the land of smiles. In the innocent act of simply falling in love, an infatuation can become all-consuming, as Jay learns when he falls for charming Lamai, a sexy smuggler who has a fetish for drinking the blood of humans. Escaping a love-gone-bad is as difficult as letting go of an addiction, and it turns out to be a life threatening event for our main character as he tries to get away from his host.
When Jay and his friends meet up for a celebration, they meet the bullets of corrupt officials, the fury of a vengeful Lamai, and a previous sex toy of hers named Professor Sekott. Jay, his whimsical hip-hopping friend Tone, and the strange Mr. Sekott head out on a journey to find the components necessary to make a cure, a cure for the blood inside their veins that is changing them into something new, something not entirely human. Our characters come across a race of beings living side by side with mainstream humans called the Pee Doot Lewat. Jay and Tone are pulled into the world of this parasitic race, and they learn firsthand about cravings for blood.
Across Thailand they travel, meeting the people who can help them alter the future. That future for Jay is returning to normal, but for Mr. Sekott, it is an insane drive to commit genocide, which is caused by his transition into madness. All the while Jay is unsuspecting that his ex-girlfriend Lamai, has been reanimated into something sordid and supernatural. She has become an undead beast with super strength, a creature bent on killing, created by a selfish witch doctor. This dark shaman, who is skilled in the dark arts and ethereal travel, has made deals with the demons of the underworld in order to change the recently killed Lamai into a functioning slave . Lifeless and commanded by a single order to kill Jay and Sekott, the stinking, rotting corpse of Lamai seeks them out with the intentions of mangling their bodies. To reverse his condition and avoid being killed by thugs, assassins, undead corpses and even the insane Mr. Sekott, it will take some skill, deception and luck for Jay and his friends to emerge alive and intact as regular human beings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Davidson
• Release date: Sep 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311210135

Christian Davidson

American male. Raised in the Northeast Bio-region. Steelers fan to the core. Transplanted to the Southwest. Attended Prescott college, Skyline College and the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. Enjoy backpacking, caving, exploring, spelunking, white-water rafting, snowmobiling, snow-shoeing, swimming, boating, water skiing and many other outdoor activities. I Like insects, mushrooms, plants, animals, reptiles, aliens and all living things. Enjoy rocks and minerals, psychedelic art, West-African drumming, neo-pagan folk gatherings and have a diverse musical taste. I am a drummer, a writer and an artist. I do yoga, I like running and try to stay in shape. I have a wonderful daughter, Sadie, who continually blows my mind. I have plans to build a free school in Thailand to share sustainable living methods and the English language. To pay my bills I have worked as an electrician, plumber, home builder, passive and photo-voltaic energy, wind power, water collection and conservation, fire extinguisher sales man, art teacher and English teacher in Thailand and Laos. I currently live in Thailand, am building a house in Laos, and travel SE Asia extensively. The world is my muse, enjoy my books!

Book preview

BLOOD SIAM

Joesph Tomko writing as Christian Davidson

Published by Joseph Tomko at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Christian Davidson

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the many hours of dedicated work of this author.

BLOOD SIAM

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BLOOD SIAM

INTRODUCTION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER 1- HANGOVER

CHAPTER 2- CLUB SCENE

CHAPTER 3- BLOOD LETTING

CHAPTER 4- CHARMING LAMAI

CHAPTER 5- ENTRAPMENT

CHAPTER6- BODILY INJURY

CHAPTER 7- ISAAN

CHAPTER 8- DECEPTIONS

CHAPTER 9- VILLAGE LIFE

CHAPTER 10- AJARN SANTEE

CHAPTER 11- SAMHATI

CHAPTER 12- MEMORIES

CHAPTER 13- EVASION

CHAPTER 14- ALBION

CHAPTER 15- SET UP

CHAPTER 16- MONEY

CHAPTER 17- FLIGHT

CHAPTER 18- UBON

CHAPTER 19- TRAVELS

CHAPTER 20- ASSASSINS

CHAPTER 21- DISGUISED

CHAPTER 22- EQUALS ZERO

CHAPTER 23- LOWER CLASS

CHAPTER 24- REANIMATED

CHAPTER 25- THE SHOW

CHAPTER 26- DEAD GIRL

CHAPTER 27- RED MAN

CHAPTER 28- SALAWEEN

CHAPTER 29- SOONAN

CHAPTER 30- CEREMONY

CHAPTER 31- SABINE

CHAPTER 32- SHOWDOWN

CHAPTER 33- RECKONING

CHAPTER 34- CONFLUENCE

CHAPTER 35- PIONEERS

CHAPTER 36- SONG KRAN

GLOSSARY

ABOUT CHRISTIAN DAVIDSON

OTHER TITLES BY CHRISTIAN DAVIDSON

CONNECT WITH CHRISTIAN DAVIDSON

INTRODUCTION

Lamai sat up on the table where she had been reanimated, looking around, shaking, wondering where and what she was. She noticed a decrepit old man walking towards her. He was carrying a cup of blood that he had filled by slicing his own wrist. He didn't say a word, he just stared at her face with old, piercing eyes. His arm extended and he held the cup out to her. She had no clue as to what was going on in the strange world around her, she only knew that she wanted what was in this cup.

It hurt to make her body respond to her will as she painfully reached her arms towards the red colored glass. She noticed her own skin when she did this. These arms that belonged to her were covered with countless tiny red wounds and painted with a foul looking paste. She was consumed by the act of recognizing her own body. This tiny body of hers looked like she had been a pin cushion or an abused voodoo doll. Her thoughts sharpened a little. She reached out and snatched the cup from this old man’s hands and sucked down what was in it greedily. Some of the blood streamed down the sides of her mouth and neck as she gorged on this intoxicating meal. The Hia reached out his hand and rubbed the dripping blood in circles on her skin. She recoiled with doubt and uncertainty.

She stared at an old face that was intently observing her. Who the hell is he?

He walked around the table, looking her up and down. Her head followed his movements and her eyes held his gaze.

Where am I? She found these words that formed in her mind and were released by her lips. It felt strange, and painful, to use her breath and vibrating vocal cords to make the first words since she had went into the darkness.

You are back! he said. You have been to a place that most never return to tell about. I have awoken you because you still have something to do. Do you know your name?

She understood these words that were coming from the old man’s lips and burrowing into her ears. This question. What is my name? La-mai? My name is… Lamai. She said, amazed at the sound of her own words. How did I get here? she asked, moving her lips in all directions to feel the sensation of owning a mouth.

I brought you back. he said, Two stupid girls brought you here. Drink some more of this and rest now. He gestured to her with a drinking motion he made with his hands. She realized that her entire body was a hideous mess. She hated being in it, but there she was, animated, capable of motion, but am I alive? She felt a black vengeance was growing inside her like a cancer creeping quickly outward.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book was written in a burst of creative inspiration that was inspired by the area of the world called Siam, the people and places, the friendliness and freedom, the food, the fun, and the financial formula that I was fearlessly facing.

The author would like to comment here on the usage of words within this story. Do the words 'Poetic Justice' mean anything to you? I have taken extreme liberties with my grammar and vocabulary in this story, so get used to it. You will encounter words that are spelled with accents, colloquialisms, slang and rule bending that would make my past grammar teachers shriek. I feel that this represents the mood of what is trying to be conveyed and I defend it against all of you proofreaders with concise opinions. Relax!

I have to thank Tony Morton III, for being a free spirited creative individual whose presence in the moment was contagious, as well as his creativity. You can read some of his original lyrics in the first part of chapter eighteen that are spoken by the character Tone. The rest of the lyrics that the character Tone recites are those of the author.I also want to thank my father and mother for their genetic input and their parenting, which is to blame for this book. Joke please.

I also would like to thank the English Steves, the smaller one and Big Steve too, The Russian guy and his family, my ex-lovers, my teachers, my students, my mentors, my tormentors and all of the souls present in Southeast Asia.

I must state that all of the characters in this story are fictional, and any similarities to people alive or dead, in name or in personality, are purely coincidental. So don't even try to sue or pursue me over your own inadequacies you see in the mirror of life. That is my disclaimer. I must also say that truth is stranger than fiction, and many of my own life experiences have influenced my creative endeavors, such as this book.

Thanks to everyone I met in Thailand, Burma, Cambodia, Laos, Malaysia and Indonesia for their support and their existence. Thank you for being you and for doing what you do. Now, I urge you to engulf yourself in this provocative tale.

CHAPTER 1 HANGOVER

Oh my fucking head! Jay moaned as he squeezed the palms of his hands against his temples and rubbed them in an orbital motion. Before he even opened his eyes, he felt all around his bed with his groping hands to see if anyone was in it with him. He was the only person there, he confirmed. He opened his eyes, allowing the early morning sunlight to penetrate his head pounding reality.

Stumbling to his feet, he got his arms and head tangled in his bed's protective mosquito netting that was hanging from the ceiling above him. After a short battle with the thin fabric, he was free and standing upright, stretching and twisting his body to relieve the last night's stiffness, an all too familiar feeling that he could not accept as old age. He was still young.

What the helicopter.....? He mumbled as he stumbled into the next room, his body weaving as it moved, ...happened last night? He went to the room's only window and opened the wooden shutters as a ritualistic morning greeting. This effort to be appreciative felt half hearted, but he loved this third story view and he loved the early morning peace. He just hated the feeling that he had been drained of his life’s energy.

He secured the shutters in an open position and peered out across the stretching farm fields to enjoy the scenery and admire this simple but profound landscape. The rice paddies, which had since been cut and the grain removed, were dry and bare, except for some golden colored stalks trampled into the soil by so many buffalo’s hooves.

He watched buffalo grazing on the stubbly remains of this season's harvested bounty, which were the slim pickings of the dry season. Nearby a farmer was pounding a stake into the ground with the flat side of a shovel that he could tie his beast to. A rooster was sounding off in response to another rooster to announce its greater pride. These noises stabbed at Jay's aching head and he squinted and rubbed his temples to release the pounding demon that had moved in while he slept, and erected an unwelcome hangover. It seemed like the hangovers were getting more frequent and more intense.

He walked away from the window with its morning panoramic scene and moved towards the wooden staircase of his humble home. Even though he was enjoying his current evening drinking career, he loved early mornings too. He didn’t care so much for the transition from medicated sleep into sluggish wakefulness It was now time for him to stumble down the stairs and begin his morning ritual, in spite of his body’s aching resistance.

Step one. See if the motorbike has any new scratches or dents on it. Observation complete. No new problems. Thank Buddha! Jay's new motorbike still looked new, from a distance, and he wanted to keep it that way. It was nothing like the rib-rattling Harley Sportster that he used to ride back in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, but he was happy to have a shiny new scooter, and a careless lifestyle that could ignore traffic laws that were rarely enforced.

He knew that driving home drunk was not his best idea ever. Did I drive home? He wondered. What did I do last night. Aa-rye? Aa-rye? He thought to himself in Thai language. What? What? What did I do last night? That was the question of the moment of the morning after. He hated not remembering, but forgetfulness was becoming common these days. I didn't drink that much, did I? He reflected. Why can't I remember? Oh my fucking head! He blurted out in blank frustration, knowing that this hangover was part of the decadent lifestyle he enjoyed. He accepted the blackouts as part of his drinking career. Maybe it's because I am really getting older now. Maybe it's the weather in Southeast Asia. Maybe I will slow down on my hedonistic ways Ha! Maybe.

Jay searched for his keys, his phone and his wallet. Success! All items were present and accounted for, laying in a scattered pile where they usually were. He checked the contents of his wallet to find two hundred fifty Thai Baht remaining. How much did I start with? He wondered. Well, at least I have something left. What happened night?

Jay moved his body and his pulsing brain into the bathroom and turned on the instant hot water unit. He stepped into the weak wet stream of water and tried to put on a game face. I gotta get moving and go to work! He coached himself. The slightly warm water soaked his head and ran down over his body. He felt some energy coming back into him, but he was still struggling to keep his eyes open. Why do I do this when I know I have to work? He pondered. Why am I so tired everyday? It must be the Thai rice beer. Maybe it's the hot weather.

Jay could hear the voices of students walking past his house. He thought of them as little monsters, lovable little monsters, some of them. What am I going to teach these little monkeys today? Adjectives? Nouns? Future perfect continuous verb tenses? Do they want to know any of this stuff anyhow, really? Why do I struggle with this futile task? Maybe I will just show them a movie of something slapstick and ridiculous. That is a humor they can understand.

He really did struggle with his part in this world’s less-than-perfect educational system. Jay was a purpose driven man. Now, his purpose was unclear, as was his role as a teacher. His drive was to produce and succeed in being a good exemplar, but, his job duties did not seem to actually include imbuing intellect. They were more designed to have him attract funds to the school rather than impart knowledge to the next generation. Jay often found himself being shown off as a theoretical asset to those who would pay money to the school, which meant the director's pockets. Those forking out the funds hoped to have their child accelerate with the highly promoted trust in international influence. Creating bankroll for 'boss big' was actually job one. Cultivating creative minds was a side effect, not important to the powers that employed him.

Jay scrubbed himself with a loofah, acting as his own motivational coach, talking himself into going to work and teaching students who didn't really want to learn. This is my purpose driven life now. He lied to himself. I am doing this for some altruistic higher purpose. I am somehow making the world a better place. Yeah right! Jay stared in the mirror and practiced his best fake smile while scowling at his sarcastic inner guru. He ignored his aging facial features. He felt nineteen in his heart and sixteen in his libido, but forty something in his dehydrated and hungover disposition.

Jay finished his pot of water and bucket shower, dried off and went to his wardrobe to get dressed. He turned on his notebook computer and tried to live stream some world news. The signal was too weak, so he cursed the ‘god damned’ internet and turned on some music instead. John Coltrane. This will go well with coffee, he thought as he started a pot of water boiling.

He opened his wardrobe to release the flock of mosquitoes that camped out in there during the night. You little blood sucking bastards! He cursed them as he swatted them away with one hand and he plugged an iron in with the other. He prepared a ritual cup of coffee, not the deep dark bitter French roast from some free-trade fifty kinds of granola market, but a green package of instant coffee with extra caffeine, mostly sugar and milk powder. T.I.T. Baby! he said to himself. This is Thailand. He recited the local mantra of foreigner ex-pats and turned his head to see smoke rising from the iron melting into his trousers. Aw, Shiiiiit!

¤

In a quaint little Ohio town, with hallmark card front yards, lined with split rail fences and flower boxes, Kelly, Jay's girlfriend, was getting ready to go to sleep. But first, she had intentions to give Jay something provocative. She crawled onto the bed and raised her naked ass into the air, doggy style. She moved her knees apart, spreading her legs and raising her ass higher. She arched her back, turned her head and gave a devious smile. The camera flashed. She pushed her head and chest into the bed, pushing her ass and crotch up even higher enhancing her seductive curves. Flash. She moved a hand across her back and lets two fingers touch her labia, spreading them slightly open. Flash.

She grinned to herself, as she stood up, and walked over to her high dollar camera. She wondered what Jay would think of these photos. This will make him think 'harder' about 'cuming' back here, She smirked. She browsed the digital photos on her display screen, entertaining the idea of showing these pics to her photography class. This would get me a fucking A for sure, and probably give the older students a heart attack. These are going into Jay’s spank bank for sure!

She transferred the photos to her computer and sent Jay a sexy email message. I'm right here baby! You want me? Come and get me! she typed. She felt the wetness between her legs seeping downward. She touched herself, and closed her eyes. She pleasured herself in her computer chair and sighed, breathing heavily, craving a warm body, his warm body, next to hers. She crawled under her down comforter alone, exhaling with a lonely sigh.

¤

Jay raced towards his iron, set to number six and dripping with rayon from his black pants. Mother Fu..... He threw this pair into the trash bin and grabbed another pair. He put the subsequent pair on without ironing them. Fuck em! He ranted. Why do I get dressed up like a corporate monkey to go babysit undisciplined miniature baboons anyhow? No one gives a shit what I do here. I am just the light skinned, smiling, monkey of the month. Jay adjusted his belt, buttoned his shirt and decided against wearing a tie.

Why can't I do this job in sandals and shorts? Jay knew the answer to his question already. Image. Image. Image. Presentation. I only need to appear to be something Western, not really be something of value. I need to be a perfectly wrapped gift with ribbons and bows and flowers, with, it doesn’t matter what, inside the box.

It didn't really matter what was in the box because he was being paid to be pale, not to actually be a teacher. The politics of making a living in a world with different values was a challenge for Jay. He struggled with his sense of purpose and struggled to make his un-ironed pants lay flat, as he struggled with his swimming brain.

I remember going to the bar, I remember drinking Leo beer with teacher Tone. I remember the dim bar lights glowing on Chompoo's honey colored skin. I remember her big beautiful eyes. Fuck! Those beautiful fucking eyes of hers! Speaking of fucking, did I fuck her? Did I go for a short time with her? She's not in my bed now. Did she come home with me and then leave? He wrestled with his lack of memory from the previous night. Hangovers and memory blanks seemed to be a regular occurrence as of late, no matter how many or how few drinks he had.

Jay drank his coffee and remembered a train ride he took through the wet mountains near Chiang Mai, some time ago. The same John Coltrane album that he was hearing now had also been playing on his MP3 player then. He could remember the mist around the mountains, the freezing cold temperature of the air conditioner on the bus, the windy turns and the bus sometimes riding in oncoming lanes which always made him tense.

He drifted into this memory with the music he was now hearing but soon his thoughts took a turn and slipped into a coffee shop somewhere in college town Ohio. He could see Kelly and her soft blonde hair, her sparkling eyes and her cute, cute smile. Coltrane was caressing them both from the background in this vision. She was sitting there reading a book from her latest photography class. He suddenly saw Kelly's alluring eyes change. They became Chompoo's brown Asian eyes. Dark, enticing, luring, mesmerizing. He was slowly forgetting about Kelly and filling his evenings with a Thai girl's company.

This scene gnawed at his integrity. Should I just tell Kelly I'm not going to come back any time soon? Should I keep her on a line in case I want to hurriedly leave this corner of the world? No! I should just tell her I don't know what I am doing with my life right now and put the ball in her court.

He paused his attention to this relationship crisis to swat a biting mosquito on his ankle. Ouch! Little bastard! he cursed it with his new Thai dialect, rich in construction worker vocabulary. He looked at the many red blotches all over his ankles and feet, speculating about malaria and dengue disease transfer by means of insect proboscises. When do these little bastards get me? It's like I don't even feel it when it happens. It must be while I am sitting at the bar, not paying attention to anything but the visual stimulation and eye candy all around me. They have those annoying perfumed smelling mosquito smoke coils burning all the time though. I make myself smell annoying with all of the spray I put on. I have to remember to bring even more spray next time. I also have to remember what I do at night. I feel like I'm missing out on all of my own fun! Maybe I can hire someone to follow me and tell me what I do.

Jay left his house and began walking down a shy street in the quiet morning Thailand sun. He resided in a very urban area, but he lived on the edge of the 'city meets farm' interface. Birds were singing from the mess of jumbled wires strung between all of the buildings on utility poles and bamboo sticks. The smell of the street side drain wafted into the air and filled his nostrils, making him want to gag. Is it one big open sewer in this city? It reminds me of New York and makes me homesick. Not really.

He walked past the food venders on Soi Six and coughed from inhaling a breath full of chilies and basil, frying in a wok at a restaurant nearby. He could smell the fires burning in the concrete containers, which were cooking large baskets of sticky rice and other essential items, required by the Thai palette. This smell of the wood burning was intoxicating to him. Something was so ancient and secure about the smell of this smoke. What wood are they burning? Why do I like this smell so much? He stretched his mind to try and tried to decide if he believed in past lives.

Sawasdee Kaaa! A beautiful Thai lady said to him as he passed by, her hands in the wai prayer position and her head bowed slightly. These are the sexiest words in the world. He thought, especially the Kaaa, part.

Sawasdee Kawp! he returned the greeting to her, waiing and bowing in respect, and partially to bask in the presence of her for a moment longer. Yeah, this is why I love this country. Poor Kelly. How can she compete with a whole country full of beautiful young women. Women, or girls, who don't care how old I am, don't care how big my gut is, and don't care about my gray hairs or mismatched clothes."

Jay smiled at every one he passed on the street. This was the land of smiles after all, and a smile was probably the most important part of his presentation of the package and its wrapping paper. Forget whatever real emotions you are experiencing, and smile. He found his way down a very dirty, smelly alley, and arrived at the school he was currently teaching at. He heard children whisper, "falang" as they passed him at the school gate.

He still could not say the name of school he worked for, because of it's extremely long name and it's pronunciation being a different syntax, but he thought, so what? People still call me John. John must be the stereotypical description for every light skinned foreigner, or more locally, 'falang.'

Jay hated being called 'falang', but that was his problem. He would always be falang, no matter how long he stayed there or how much he assimilated, ate the food, wore the clothes or spoke the language. He could never change this nomenclature. He still felt his adrenaline flow, every time he heard the word, 'falang', even though everyone insisted it meant, 'foreigner'. Jay's suspicious nature made him wonder, if the word means foreigner, why did it also mean potato or guava. Which is it? Am I a potato or a guava? A fruit or a vegetable? Why am I grouped in with every human soul from Europe, Australia, and the Americas. Do the locals think we all live together in one big country, Falangia? I have to stop letting this generalization get to me. I surely will not change it. It will never change. To get angry about this is like getting angry at the sky for being blue. Smile. Just smile!

At the food cafeteria, or canteen as it was called, Jay decided on fried basil with cut pork and rice for his morning meal. He added way too much fish sauce and chopped chili pepper, but he often overdid the hot stuff. My head is swimming, how am I going to work today? Come on brain. Shake it off! Pull it together! He sat down alone with his food, ignoring the local style of all the Thai teachers, which was eating together, and reaching over each other to dip balls of sticky rice into all kinds of saucy dishes. Instead he ate 'lone wolf' style, Kon diaow as they called it there. He was alone with his food and his thoughts, alone with his all too regular hangover.

What the fucks up mother fucker, kawp? Teacher Tone called out as he danced over and sat down, smiling hugely. Teacher was a more common title than Mr. in this part of the world. "Man I am still fuckin wasted from last night man! Na Kup. Kup Kup kup."

How can you do this every night and day my friend? Jay asked his drinking buddy, and co-teacher with a furrowed brow. How do you not ever feel like shit?

"I just stay drunk mother fucker, KAWP! And I ain't an old fucker like you! DIS! Tone released this information into Jays face. Did you see those bitches at the bar last night? Gaawd DAMN! There were as many bitches as mosquitoes! I can see the skeeters bit the fuck out me, but I'm not sure what the bitches did to me."

What the fuck did we do last night anyhow? Jay asked, shoveling rice into his beer hole. Did we have a good time?

"Shit mother fucker! How the fuck am I supposed to know. The last thing I remember is you trying to crawl up Chompoo's skirt. I think I saw you guys head towards the short time room. I don't know, but then these three bitches rolled in, I'm pretty damn sure none of them had dicks! I taught them all how to say, I am a spooge receptacle. I am a professional English teacher you know. So I teach 'em what they need to know, but their accent kills me! I em a spooja wee sep taa koo."

You are a gentleman and a scholar. It is so generous of you to give free English lessons. Maybe they will hang your name on a wall in the temple.

"That's whassup! In the mean time, I think you should avoid hangovers by staying drunk, HAH! Teacher Tone strolled away singing to himself....I wanna put my balls on her eyebrows....I wanna put my cock on her forehead..."

What a poet! Jay shook his head in rebuke with simultaneous admiration, and gave a quirky Beavis chuckle. I wish I could just not give a fuck more often. Life is good, why be serious? I have to be serious about not being serious. But seriously, I have to go be a teacher now. I have to give these kids something. I have to be prepared. I have to....... go sign in..... and teach English. Or do what the admin wants and just be seen and babysit little baboons.

Jay headed for the office to sign his name in the books, so he would get counted and eventually paid, he hoped. This gig didn't pay much, but he needed the money.

He wasn't like most of the other farangs here in this country. Most of them were retired. There were so many dumpy old men walking around with big guts, gray hair and hot girls, fifty years younger than them. Jay was not that old, he was still fit, and not bad looking, but he could not compete with the fat wallets of the retired farangs.

He tried not to be jealous, but he had a bad break in America. When the Western economy took a dump, he lost his house, his business, his girlfriend, his dog and his best friend all at the same time. He decided he had to do something besides drink himself to death or put a bullet in his head, so he tried something a bit adventurous and new, by moving to Thailand and working as a teacher.

Life was easy in Thailand. There was a real sense of freedom or at least a lack of enforcement. The ladies were beautiful there. This construction worker/philosopher, in his mid life crisis and second Saturn’s return, was finding a new way to live. It meant forgetting about Western values and accepting every fucked up and beautiful thing as it unfolded in Southeast Asia.

Sawasdee Kaaa, teacher Ting greeted him. Sawasdee Kaaa, followed a greeting from teacher O.

Sawasdee kawp, Jay return and gave them a wai and a bow. Good morning Ajarn Ting, Good morning, Ajarn, O, my God! The lady teachers were all smiles. Especially Ajarn O, who always giggled at the way Jay used a play on words with her name that she actually understood. Jay smiled even bigger than them. These were two of the sexiest teachers in his school by his ranking. Calling her 'O my god!' was no understatement. He was surrounded with beautiful eye candy every where he looked. How could he ever complain?

After signing in, Jay went to his classroom, opened his lap top computer and checked his emails before the students arrived. Junk. Spam. Ads. Ads. Then, there was Kelly, Oh My....! Jay was open mouthed and staring at Kelly posing for him on his computer screen. Wow! She is so hot! He declared as his mind and pelvis drifted twelve thousand miles to Kelly’s bedroom. He remembered their short fling before he came to this country. He could almost smell her skin, white and soft, enticing, beautiful.

Good morning teacher, chimed three of his girl students flanking his left side.

"Good morning he said startled, and fumbled to hit the minimize tab. The girls were beside him in an instant peering at the screen to see what the falang teacher was looking at. They didn't see anything revealing he hoped.

The rest of the students noisily clamored into the room, hitting each other, laughing, eating snacks and drinking from tiny boxes of something, just as the image of Kelly vanished. The three curious girls didn’t see the photo meant for Jay.

Please stand up, the loudest student yelled out and all the students rose and intoned together, Goood Morniiing Teeeeachah."

Good morning students. How are you today? Teacher Jay recited out of habit.

I am fine and yooooou? replied the chorus.

I am happy today, please sit down.

Thank you teeeeachah.

The monkeys went back to screaming, laughing, eating and wrestling, talking on cell phones, staring into mirrors and powdering their faces. Teacher Jay wrote the date on the white board, turning his back to the class, trying to conceal the cyber hard on that Kelly gave him, and the hangover that was swimming inside his head.

CHAPTER 2 CLUB SCENE

Brrrn-Chhh, Brrrn-Chhh, Brrrn-Chhh, Brrrn-Chhh. Thumping sounds were blaring from the large wall mounted speakers at the the ‘PuYing Palace’ club. Gunter was sucking on a Leo beer and poking his chopsticks into a plate of Pad Thai noodles. It was 6:00 P.M. and the streets were scarcely occupied but were starting to show signs of wandering alcohol drinking customers.

Darlink, vould you prease brringk me a Sang Som and ze Red Bullz? he called out to Chaa, the pretty young girl he hired yesterday to work in his bar slash date introduction service.

OK, kaaa! She smiled very widely and clicked her high heels on over to the bar.

Vucking bitchaz! Gunter said to himself, Vhat vould I do wiz out zem?

Gunter moved to Thailand three years ago, tried an English teaching gig which he was horrible at, found a girlfriend, quit teaching and bought a bar with his Thai girlfriend in the touristy town of Pattaya. That girlfriend was long gone already, and so was the previous name of the bar. He had originally named the bar after his girlfriend, Tang. Gunter thought back to her sweet young sexy body, her ensnaring smile, and her name, Tang, short for poon Tang, he thought. It was his own fault for putting his trust in that part of her anatomy. Lesson learned. Valuable experience gained.

But Gunter was not finished with the economic possibilities of Thailand. Pattaya had way too many bars already, but had opportunities for many more, and Gunter knew this. He also knew how to get around having a dominant Thai partner to jointly own property. He had many Thai business partners, all owning such a small share of the bar that no one could push him out, unless they all combined their pie pieces to conglomerate fifty one percent of the shares, which would never happen. Gunter cleverly set it up this way because he knew that if he chose local investors who hated each other, that they would never be consolidated enough to move against him. Competition for the tourist dollar was cut throat, and Gunter exploited that fact in his favor. Even in the land of smiles, there were devious sneers.

Gunter ran the day to day operations, and was in charge of hiring and firing the cashiers, bar tenders and the bar girls. The Thai partners came to look at the books and collect their share of the booze profits once a month. Gunter saw them very little, and preferred them out of the picture just the same. He wanted to be in charge, and inflect his German-Belgian ideas, which meant having as many hot, young cuties walking around his bar and his eyesight as possible.

Bee was the girl in charge of the cooking operations and Simon and Jorgen were on security and bouncer duty. Gunter wanted at least some European ears around him so he could still have someone listen to him complain and understand his ire. He had fifteen bar girls that showed up for work when they weren't having stomach aches or family issues. He only hired girls, no lady-boys, which he detested the abundance of. He renamed the bar the 'PuYing Palace,' which meant 'Girl Palace', to advertise the lack of balls on his cocktail waitresses. All of his girls were legally over 18, so they claimed. They were certainly all beautiful. He didn't have to search for fresh entertainment. After he established himself, the girls just kept showing up to apply for work, and he could have his pick of the litter. Slim, tall, scantily dressed in fuck-me shorts and white tank tops. This was the uniform and the look of the 'PuYing Palace' girl.

Here you drink, Kaaa, Chaa spoke to him in her best English as she set the glass down on a bar towel and stepped back smiling big, braces and dimples showing. She spoke the international language of commerce, not Gunter’s native Belgian dialect, of which she knew only the swear words.

Danka darling, Gunter grinned as he smacked her on the ass and smiled out of half of his face and threw a Thai thank you at her, Kawwwwb kooon Kawwwwp! Chaa giggled and clicked back to a table where a couple of other girls were busy with their compact mirrors, plucking out their eyebrows and painting them back on again. She joined them in the artistic hair removing ceremony.

Across the street, lady-boys were engaging in the same ceremony. The 'Happy Joy Bar' was directly across from Gunter's Palace. This bar had half Hole in the Wall workers, who beautiful ladies with large breasts, full hips, alluring eyes and ...cocks. The other half of the workers were beautiful Russian girls, mostly from Russia. Gunter had mostly Thai girls working and occasionally Laos, Cambodian and Vietnamese girls. Gunter sipped on his Sang Som bomb and gave a sneer in the direction of his competition.

Fucking Oleg! That communist cocksucker! he blurted. Gunter's contempt came from the fact that the Happy Joy bar did three times the amount of business as him, had three times the police protection and had katois stealing his customers regularly.

The last time Gunter tried to express his disapproval of his competition's katois coming near his bar to flirt with his customers, Oleg, the Russian owner and mafia connected trader, had his thugs dance on Gunter's ribs, while three other Russians played accordion, balalaika and sang Russian drinking songs to the ass whooping event. They left Gunter's bloody and bruised body in the street in front of his bar, and placed a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka, wrapped with a red bow, under his broken arm as a parting gift.

¤

Kelly was waking up to the annoying sounds of a blaring alarm clock. She touched herself between her legs and moaned a small sigh, partially from desire and partially from sleepiness. She rolled over and slapped her alarm clock into silence with a precise and well practiced blow. Rising to a sitting position, she licked her lips and replayed the erotic dream she had been viewing in her slumber. Jay and she were on a boat. It was dark. They were naked. They were petting each other. They were happy to be alone. They kissed. They began to make love. She felt his tensing arms around her. There were colored lights somewhere in the background. Oriental sounding music was also coming from somewhere in the distance. More kissing. More caressing. A break to catch their breath. A pause to take a drink. She saw his face. She watched him lift the glass to his lips. She saw him swallowing deeply, the red liquid in the glass. He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her. A drop of...... blood, was leaking from the side of his mouth. His teeth were stained red. What the fu.......?

¤

Jay was walking towards the bars now that evening was upon him. He had changed out of his dress clothes, showered, misted his chest with cologne and put on some shorts and sandals. He topped off his evening wear with a locally produced black T-shirt that had an emblem on the front that read 'Croca Cola.' School was finished and he was happy. The best part of the week was upon him. It was Friday!

T.B.I.W.S. he said, thinking in Thai rather than in English acronyms. Thank Buddha it's Wan Sook! He laughed at himself for being so acclimated. 555 he thought, which, in Thai, was pronounced, hah hah hah.

He walked past a row of food carts and gazed over the immense selection. There was rice soup, rice with seafood, rice with omelets, rice with chicken, rice with squid, rice with beef or pork, rice with veggies and rice. Jay reflected on the fact that people here didn't ask you if you ate yet. They ask you if you ate rice yet. Really, just about every meal included rice, with something to flavor it.

There were also noodles, oysters, sushi, pork balls, hot dogs, pineapple, mangoes, eggs, grilled whole chickens, all kinds of meat and organs barbequed on a stick, bamboo, bugs, bags of soup, bags of soda, bags of anything, different colored sweet drinks, mushrooms, seafood, scorpions, squirming things, everything and anything, all for sale in artistically arranged displays.

Jay paused to look at a cart full of fried insects. There were fried crickets, grasshoppers, rice bugs, scorpions, meal worms and bamboo worms to name a few. He watched a young tourist couple timidly staring at the unfamiliar cuisine. A drunken Aussie wandered up and almost knocked the girl of the couple over as he pushed his way forward and grabbed a handful of worms, shoving them in his mouth as if he were entitled to help himself to free beer snacks.

Hey Buddy! her boyfriend shouted. Watch it!

Five-tee baht! the lady bug vendor announced to the staggering drunken man.

The down under vacationer, who was enjoying a drunken holiday, poured a waterfall of beer from a bottle of Tiger lager into his mouth to wash down the bugs. He smiled and beer ran down his face and onto his already stained shirt. He hollered back to the short vendor, loudly and incomprehensibly, Siiiip saaawng bawwwwwt! trying to be a smart ass and suggesting paying twelve Baht instead of the advertised price of fifty.

No, no! You give five-ty baht! the little woman replied, suddenly seeming taller.

These bloody bugs aren't worth bullocks and I ain't giving you shite! He defiantly spit back at her. A hand suddenly found his shoulder and squeezed it with surgical precision with fingers also penetrating his armpit. This turned him to into pudding and dropped him to his knees in an immobilizing way.

You give five-ty bought, sir! said Chang, a tuk-tuk truck driver who was also watching the scene unfold and took some vigilante action.

OK! OK! Owww! Fuck! Here, take it! With his free arm he pulled a hundred baht bill out of his pocket and dropped it on the ground. Chang let go and picked up the bill, handing it to the lady food vendor.

Thank you too much, so much, very much! She said melodically. She took the bill, scooped up a handful of crickets placing them in a Styrofoam 'to go' container and handed it to the recovering Aussie. I give you. Free! she said with a smile as she handed the drunken arsehole a to-go bag.

The less than exemplary Australian citizen staggered off looking pissed, without his doggie bag. Jay watched as the young couple walked away, and Chang received a big smile from the food vendor. Kawp koon kaaa na kub, she said to him and opened a drawer on her cart. She grabbed a handful of black squirming.....worms? Jay wasn't sure what he was seeing. She placed them in a paper funnel, sealing the top with a stapler, handed this package to Chang and gave him a one eyed smile. He nodded to her and walked back to his tuk-tuk with his package of,…?

Excuse me sir, Jay said to Chang's back. Can you give me a ride to Soi Seven?

It was only a kilometer or so to this street, but Jay felt something mysterious about this man and his curiosity made him want to know more about the squirming transaction he just observed. OK! Dai Dai. Chang told him yes, that he could give him a ride. Sit down please, he said, and pointed to the seat in the back of the tuk-tuk. As they pulled out of the food vending area in a small red truck, Jay asked him his name.

My name is, ...Chang. What you name? Kup.

My name is Jay. That was a nice move you made back there on that drunken asshole!

Alai-wah? Sawly. No understand. Chang said.

In his best Thai pronunciation, Jay told Chang that he was a good strong man and that he gave hurt to a bad drunk man. He also added that he did a good job in a good style.

Oh! Thank you, Thank you! Man crazy. Soi Seven, you want go? Chang gratefully accepted this compliment and reconfirmed the location that Jay was going to on street number seven.

Yes, yes. Jay confirmed his destination, but was extremely curious about what he just saw come out of the food vendors drawer, so he asked Chang, in Thai, what he was going to eat from the bug vendor cart. Jay wanted to know what this man was given that was not openly sold on the top of the food cart display.

Falang eat can not. Chang explained to Jay that foreigners could not eat the same kinds of food. You want pizza?

Jay asked him if he could see the food, but was greeted with, Never mind. Soi Seven. The tuk-tuk driver told him to not be concerned and announced his arrival at street number seven. The small taxi-like truck came to a stop and Jay stepped out handing Chang a fifty Baht note. Chang handed him a card with his phone number. Go everywhere, can! I take you. You want girlfriend?

No, but thanks. Jay said as he stepped back and Chang drove off, with his hand tearing open the sealed package of …...what? Jay observed him popping, ......whatever it was, into his mouth. Jay had seen Thai people eat many things, like ants, rats, bats, cats, even dogs, but he never this live mass of …..what? It really pulled at his curious mind.

Jay strolled along street number seven, peering into every bar that he passed, admiring the girls, aware that possibly they were men. He wasn't very sure of the sex of the beauties that he was seeing, who were wearing the shortest shorts that were ever called clothing. How can a pair of shorts be as long as a shot glass? Every face smiled at him and beckoned him in. It was still early. Time to have a drink. Not time for spending hard earned money on skin. Jay found his way to the PuYing Palace and sat down in his favorite chair, facing the street and the stage, with the mirrored wall on his right. He could see everything from his vantage point.

Only three girls were in the bar now. His favorite, Chompoo, wasn't there yet. She would be there later, he was sure, he hoped. Chaa clicked up to him and smiled big. Sawasdee kaaa. What you drink?

Soon Sawm Jet, Kawp. Jay replied.

She asked him what he wanted and he told her zero-three-seven in Thai. Jay thought he was clever for ordering a 037 (0=soon, 3=sawm 7=jet), which was Leo spelled upside down.

A-lye wah? Cha asked him 'what the fuck' in Thai, as she looked perplexed.

Leo, Love. I would like a Leo beer, he said.

Oh, OK! kaaa, kaaa!

Chaa sang as she clicked her way to the bar in her extremely high heels. Jay smiled as he watched her walk away clicking clumsily, as if it was her first day ever wearing heels. So many of the girls working in Pattaya were farm girls from the Northeast, who only knew footwear as flip flops. He imagined this girl, Chaa, was innocent, inexperienced, maybe even a virgin. He entertained the image of her working on a farm, cooking food for her family and going to a temple. Yeah, right! She might be the girl from that scene, but she's also an ATM sucking leech like the rest of them.

Jay became instantly aware of the amount of prostitution that was going on around him when he first arrived at this location of the globe. He reasoned that this kind of activity was engaged in by less-than-perfect people, on both sides of the condom, or lack of one. His moral judgment likely came from being raised in a bible-thumping, gospel TV watching, government in your bedroom, adolescent self-righteous society. His less than perfect self viewed it a bit differently now.

Jay acknowledged that every man with a healthy sex drive, wanted to interact with something phallically comfortable. This was nature's way of insuring perpetuation of the species. It was a built in genetic fail-safe to keep the chromosomes dividing. A conspiracy concocted by DNA to create a never ending spiral of reproduction and replication.

Jay also supposed that women were not as horny as men because nature created another fail-safe, a way to put the brakes on, to avoid over-population. So, if this was the natural order of the universe, there could be no condemning it. If a woman, automatically born into the social ranks with lower status, could manipulate the penis-brained males with the tools she was born with, to better her life, than who is to say that she is, less than perfect? And how can I be so pious to judge the man who is part of this universal dance that involves a small exchange of currency?

A girl who can support her family without having to stand in mud, bent over planting rice for five dollars a day, is viewed as a smart person, not a sinner. The real sin is being poor. Jay had spent a year talking himself into this acceptance of, the way things are, and he thought that if there was a downside to selling your body for sex, it would be a decreased chance of finding true love, whatever that may be.

Within this philosophical, moral, societal, physiological and financial concept, Jay pondered, what was true love, anyhow? Is it the notion of one man, one woman, forever till death do you part? That is what the Western world preaches after all. But does a three century old society have the right idea, or does the three millennium old, Eastern society, have a more realistic approach? After all, this is the oldest profession in the world.

Jay had convinced himself that he was still a good person, trying to do good things, and succeeding in enjoying the good things in life, while still helping people out, which happened to be young sexy girls who needed money. In his heart, he just wanted someone to love, some one to fuel his engine, some one to be his muse. The attraction of young pretty girls was there, but in reality, it was very unfulfilling. Jay was a hopeless romantic at heart, and forever had a cloud of searching hanging over his head. He tried to forget about this for now. Drinking helped.

Soon, Sawm, Jet! She presented Jay a beer with a smile, a dimple and braces. Who is this beautiful creature Chaa anyway?

Thank you, Krub! Jay nodded politely and lightly placed the bottle cap back on top his beer bottle. He then placed the top of the bottle into his eye and pretended to twist it off with his eye socket. He turned the bottle cap around and fitted it, upside down, into his eye other socket, showing the 037, and gave his best pirate, Yaaaaaaarrrrgh! to Chaa, who giggled and again clicked away. Jay took a big swig straight out of the large bomber bottle, ignoring the bucket of ice and the glass that Chaa set down next to him. Who drinks beer over ice anyhow? Fuckin pussies!

Bad teacher! Money said as he suddenly appeared, pulled out a stool and plopped down on it next to Jay.

What's up, Money? How were your monkeys today? Jay asked.

Monsters, not monkeys! He corrected, I had a katoi student hitting on me today, two Tomboys were fighting over another girl, one boy was shooting flames from a can of spray paint at a group of girls, and one innocent little twelve year old girl threatened the rest of the class with a knife.

Typical day then, yeah?

Yeah, I suppose. And yours?

I think that three of my girl students might have seen a picture of Kelly, ass to the air, on my laptop.

When are you going to bring her over here?

If I brought her over here, she would see what I see everyday and cut my dick off so I couldn't use it again.

Why do you keep her on the line then, you know you aren't going back.

Maybe, I will, someday.

Hellooo, mistah hansum, Chompoo said as she joined the table, slinked into Jays lap and rotated her hips like a cat curling up in a pillow.

Yeah, you're going back someday. Right! Money jeered back.

Chompoo, love, how are you? Jay smiled and squeezed Chompoo's thigh.

I am very goose! Kaaaa. Chompoo smiled back, and then gave Jay several kisses, which were, half a peck with the lips, and half with a poke and a sniff from the nose. These cute little kisses were like an animal smelling something all over, deciding what part smelled best to eat.

I am going to puke. Came the words from his convulsing friend, Money.

Find your own girl to puke on. Retorted Jay.

That is exactly what I am going to do! Money said as he walked away smiling.

Chompoo was smiling. Jay was smiling. This was truly the land of smiles, he thought.

¤

Kelly opened up her in-box on her work computer, disappointed to not see a reply from Jay. She couldn't get the image from her dream, of Jay's bloody mouth, out of her head. It was such a good dream, that she had almost forgotten about the ending. But it was the only part of the dream that she could remember now. Something about this dream seemed foreboding. She picked up her mobile and called him.

¤

Teacher happy, Mai? Chompoo whispered in his ear and slid a hand on top of his crotch with an added tongue tickle to his earlobe.

Yes, teacher very happy. Jay said, returning the gesture. He ignored the phone singing in his pocket and stared into Chompoo's eyes. She continued giving him sniff kisses, on his eyes, cheeks, neck and forehead. He felt up and down her smooth sexy legs, intoxicated by the smell of flowers in her hair, intoxicated by the deep pools of languid, liquid-black desire in her big, beautiful eyes, intoxicated by her kisses and whispers of something imperceptible, almost song like. He drank in her beauty, her sexiness, her closeness and a few more beers. She kept him close in her sight, and the other girls she kept at a distance. He guessed she was marking her territory like a dominant bitch. Jay was her ATM for the evening. He would