Post Number Thirty Five

“The Fight Goes Pubic”

Things have now become hot under the collar for me here in the land of the Thais. They’ve gotten so hot, in fact, I may have to leave my Self Defence Mission un-accomplished until I find some way to set my garrotting twine (or failing that, my pruning sheers) onto the neck of The Deserving One (AKA Alistair Vivekenanda). Because the air is now chunky with DANGER. Big, fat beefy chunks of DANGER keep falling out of the aforementioned air like… I dunno… Danger Chunks. One of ’em even fell on my foot. Yep. Landed so hard my foot was loosened– and it’s precisely because of this foot-looseness that I felt an urge to roam far from Siam, limping to a land where the danger falls less chunkily.

Oh, did I mention the danger now comes in mouth-watering smoky flavour??

More on that soon. First I should clear things up, just in case a few of my more overly sensitive readers are now getting hyper-stressed by all this edge-of-the-swivel-chair dangerspeak. For the sake(s) of those people(s), I give the following medical advice: take two Narco Drops and relax. Life’s not all “danger”, y’know. There’s a bit of “safety” thrown in, too. So get a grip, will yerz? Shit… Otherwise your panic will force me to give you a cyber-slap.

And I think almost none of us want that.

There’s another thing I think almost none of us want and it’s this: for the smoke-related haziness of the current Posting to continue. So here’s the real reason I allegedly (because I’m still not convinced it happened) got “arrested”. It wasn’t because I was collared menacing the fabled King of Siam (or I should say “menacing the outer garden shrubbery fence of his Mighty Kingdom”) but rather was because I stumbled into the middle of CRIME ZONE RIVALRIES. Yes, a couple short blocks away from the Worst Enemy District is the not-quite-as-aggro-but-still-pretty-friggin’-bad “Foreigners Who Accidentally Start Gang Wars District”.

Some travel advice: rarely go there. I mean, sure, it’s a hard piece of advice to follow to the letter, because– let’s face it– some of the finest quality vagina-work happens in that area. But that (surprisingly) is a big part o’ the problem. As I found out myself when I vocalized my rage by heckling the bar girl who blew “smoke” (if it really was {quote} “smoke” rather than your, your, your common or Dutch-oven variety BUTT FUMES) out of (not your butt fumes, Reader. As in “yours, personally”. Hers. Personally) out of (I repeat) her coit instead of her much more fundamental minge.

Allow me to remind you that almost everyone has at least one butt-hole, but only a select portion of persons (roughly 51%) have pussies. Therefore, it is the RARITY of the pussy-possessing portion of persons that makes Vaginal Smoking the sexy and sophisticated thing it is. Which is the main reason I got so full of outrage. Although, I didn’t realize at the time that vaginal smoking is, like, also a health hazard. Why? Well, obviously because– when it’s not done properly– it can lead you into a life of orgasm-ized crime, a factoid you would already know if you took a look at the graphic pictures of gang-warfare victims on the sides of cigarette and/or tampon packets. Those pictures had been torn from yesterday’s headlines, when Porn Pong Road was locked in the tight, muscular grip of the notorious (yet fascinating) “SMOKIN’ PUSSY WARS”. For that is what the local media types dubbed ’em– and with good reason.

See, it all began a short while ago in a place called (you’ll never guess) the “Short While Ago District” (which– apparently– is what they called The Worst Enemy District. A short while ago). There was a local bar owner. He was very demanding. Verily, this guy demanded all his bar girls should pussy smoke at least a packet a day (minimum) to maximize the number of shows and keep the cashed-up consoomers flooding in. Begrudgingly, the girls did as per told, but there was a huge amount of work-related stress because of it. Indeed, the girls were SO stressed-out they would often (I think, a tad stupidly) go outside and calm their nerves with a quiet pussy-smoke in a side alley, where they were banished because– perhaps ironically?– their change rooms were non-smoking areas.

And it was one of these over-stressed bar girls who started The Smokin’ Pussy Wars… by blowing smoke in the face of a rival bar girl from across the road! (I never actually found out if that rival bar girl’s bar was across the road, or if she herself  was across the road, but if it was the latter, then WOW. That is one HELLUVA smoke-blow.) Anyway, things quickly got out of hand. Harsh words were exchanged. Snide remarks were tweeted. Bowling balls were spat. Until (finally) the temperamental artists of Porn Pong Road actually CAME TO BLOWS. (Real blows this time, not smoke ones.)

And there was only one person who could stop them from blowing that crazy town wide open: the mysterious “bar owner” I spoke about before. And his name was (insert drum-roll here) TOCSIN RASHAPOON. Prob’ly. I dunno… I’m jus’ kind’a guessing on this… Maybe it wasn’t him, after all.

But– Glorious Reader– we shall soon find out!!

(Or maybe not… I dunno that, either.)