Story Ideas

Several readers have emailed me and asked me where I get some of the ideas for my stories.  It's really pretty simple.  I am fourteen years old and live in the basement of my parent's house; and I am surrounded by piles of my father's old American World War II comic books with titles like:

The Fighting Yank, Our Army at War, G.I. Joe, Two Fisted Tales, Sgt. Rock of Easy Company, Frontline Combat, Our Fighting Forces, and favorites like:

Blazing Combat
Combat Kelly
Pacific Private
Captain Savage
GI Combat
Commando Yank 
Battle Action

I simply use mostly the same stories but change the character names to Thai names, and change the WW II place names to Thai geography, and add local names for local color.  For instance:

Sgt. Rock becomes Noi
and
G.I. Joe becomes Wan
and
General Mayhem becomes Porntip
and
Private Dick becomes Fon
and
Captain Courageous becomes Gai

For the Thai place names in my Thai theme writing I simply do like this:

Guadalcanal becomes Pattaya
and
Guam becomes Phuket
and
Berlin becomes Ayutthaya
and
Anzio becomes Udon
and
Tarawa becomes Chiang Mai
and
Iwo Jima becomes Bangkok

Then you sprinkle in the local names like Boss Hogg, and Dave the Rave, and 500 Baht Walt, and Four Bathrooms JJ, and Pattaya Gary, and Chiang Mai Kelly, and Foster Foskin, and of course the inimitable Sick Water Buffalo.  Of course writing is not always easy but it does help that in my previous lives I used to give Milton his eye drops, and paint sets for Shakespeare, and make trips to the big village across the frozen river to pick up birch bark prozac for Dostoyevsky.  In other words: I know a point of irony from a bit of iambic pentameter.  Still I think you can see that structure helps.

Anyway: here is a typical example of how this works.  The hypothetical story is from a comic book entitled:  Glorious Battles of the South Pacific.

'GUNS AND BLOOD' by Kill'em Kwik Kelley

Lt. Col. Kenjuro Hyaichi of Kuralei had not been fooled.  An invasion force of 30,000 men had been massing at sea for two weeks and an invasion was about  to take place.  They were not going to land on Red Beach or Green Beach, but rather the promontory between.  Alcohol induced loose lips in Aussie land had given up the game.  Soon the battle would be started.  The Japanese operation was code named Fosters.    Kenjuro's  nemesis, Fleet Captain Kelley, had presaged his arrival off the island with other full moon landings in other parts of the Pacific.  Tonight was a full moon.  The time was now!  Kenjuro had pulled in favors and reinforcements from all over the island and massed them on the promontory.  His men were ready.  Ready to fight.  Ready to say "Banzai".

Meantime; offshore Fleet Captain Kelley had been busy.  Sgt. Rock, GI Joe, General Mayhem, Private Dick, and Captain Courageous had been briefed.  They and their peers and recruits and officers represented  the best men that Democracy had to offer.

Fleet Captain Kelley-- "Remember men: Every Jap you kill is a down payment on your ticket home to be with your mothers and your sisters and your girlfriends.  And don't forget:  Love is a four letter word--So is Kill.  Guns and Blood gentlemen.  God Speed and Good Luck."

At 9:30 the purple tropic clouds parted and the full moon lit up the night sky.  Fleet Captain Kelley stood up on the destroyer's bridge, fired a red parachute flare, and the invasion was on.    

Finis

I then take this exciting World War II comic book epic and rewrite it for the ThailandStories.com site.  The new story is:

'SEMEN AND LOVE' by Dana

Head Mamasan Na had not been fooled.  An invasion force was massing and an invasion was about to take place.  Her opposite in this night time theatre of love was First Farang Dana who had spent the last two weeks amassing 30,000 farangs in the Hotel Nana.  Na was ready, and eager, and bitch hard, and bitch fat, and knew the way to a man's heart was not through his stomach.  She had pulled in favors, and conscripts, and enthusiasts, and experienced mamasans from all over Thailand. 

Noi and her girls had come down from Chiang Rai.  Used to mostly Thai customers they were looking for a big score.  The only equation they remembered from school was 'Farang Equals Money'!  Twenty four hours from now there would be new clothes for baby, and for momma, and for boyfriend.  Mamasan Wan had come up with her girls from Hat Yai.  A couple of days without turbans, and dotheads, and curry breath would be a real pleasure.  In a culture of scams and spice they had never heard a good thing about farangs and were spoiling for sexual battle.  The mamasans and their girls from Pattaya, and Patpong, and Cowboy, and Ko Samui, and Phuket, and the Japanese bathhouses didn't need to be coached: just held back until the assault started.  Many of them wore out Frankenstein shoes and heels marching to battle from far off places and they didn't intend to let a single farang baht get away.  Mamasans Fon and Gai and their 400 girls had come in from Chiang Mai and Udon.  Country girls excitedly talking on their new cell phones.  Gifts from mamasans for making the long bus trip. 

It was a never before seen massing of Thai females.  Good girls, University girls, mothers' daughters, females on the rebound and angry, sociopathic sexual predators, adventurers, recent releasees from the Monkeyhouse with no money, the greedy, and the just plain stupid but sexually gifted. Gathered in the open courtyard of the Nana Plaza the world's alpha females could see the invasion force of farangs just across the soi.  Everyone knew that First Farang Dana was waiting for the full moon.

Mamasan Na had not been fooled.  The Nana parking lot farangs weren't heading for Cowboy, or for Patpong: but Nana Plaza.  Loose alcohol Aussie lips at the airport had given up the game.  Na was going to call her next grandchild Oz.  Soon the battle would begin.  The girls were ready.  Ready to love.  Ready to say "Barfine?".  30,000 farangs against 5000 bargirls.  Even odds!

Mamasan General Na: "Remember girls: Every farang is a deposit on your trip back home to be with your brothers and your fathers and your boyfriends.  The farangs will be carrying two bulges in their pants.  One will be their wallet, the other will be their best friend.  Powder your pussies girls.  And remember: 'Farang' is a six letter word, and so is 'Moneey'!  We won't get a second chance like tonight.  It's them or us.  It's not Guns and Blood; it's Semen and Love.  Same thing!  Chok de mak mak.

At 9:30 the purple tropic clouds parted and the full moon lit up the Bangkok sky.  First Farang Dana was hoisted up onto the Nana Hotel sign, fired a red parachute flare, and the invasion was on!

Led by First Platoon Leader Union Hill, Chuck Woww, Dr. Earnshawe and his canine corps, Icarus, Marc Holt, Turk Fist, and Victor the tsunami wave of libido and mens' needs swept out of the Angel's Disco, rappelled down from the fourth floor hotel pool, heaved themselves out of big lounge lizard lobby chairs, rose up and threw down their napkins in the restaurant, pushed backed from the bar, and formed up in marching units in the car park. 

No laughing, or bluff and bluster, or smiling.  Lips set thin, eyes gun metal gray, stomachs flat against backbones, and hot hands hanging straight down.  War.  It was war.  Thirty thousand farangs against five thousand lying, thieving, almond eyed vaginas that could purr like kittens and cut like knives.  Sexual war.

As the parachute flare burst and Dana's profile could be seen against the moon the invasion started.  Thirty thousand men under the leadership of Union Hill, and Victor, and Dr. Earnshawe, and Turk Fist, and Chuck Woww, and Icarus, and Marc Holt started the trip across Soi 4.  Hot hands rising and set mouths bursting with the song of living and loving.  Cars, and tuk-tuks, and curb freelancers, and food vendors were cast aside like your latest girlfriend's stupid throw pillows.   Masses of young girls in high school uniforms with little ties and little pleated skirts were formed in front of the Pharaoh's bar, special sucking and licking units were formed in front of each bar, and the second floor balcony from the Big Mango to the old Cathouse bar was lined with naked women rubbing the lips of beer bottles against their private parts. 

"Don't be fooled." shouted First Platoon Leader Union Hill, "I've seen that trick before."

Up on the roof in front of the Angelwitch bar the mamasan general Na was screeching on a whistle, talking on her cellphones, examining the field of battle through toilet paper tubes, and receiving troop position reports from newbie entertainment providers who could run and scramble like soi dogs in traffic.  Too inexperienced to be depended upon to milk every baht from every farang they were nevertheless anxious to participate and to make a contribution.  If they said more pussy was needed at the first to second floor stairwell in the rear it was a fact and General Na dispatched experienced girls immediately. The second floor roof acted as a destroyer bridge where she could con the battlefield and make tactical decisions as needed. 

In the meantime Dana had been pulled down from the top of the Nana Hotel sign and was coming in on the shoulders of Turk Fist's men where he could get a better view of the geography of battle.   Special Dana units run by Marc Holt and Chuck Woww had dodged early and fast through the first battalions of girls and using plastique and crowbars had torn all the doors off all the bars, ripped down all the curtains, destroyed all the phones, and rounded up the fatties and uglies and locked them in the hairdressing salon. 

No one is hiding tonight.  If you are female, and you are on the field of battle; you are going to get loved. Then it was on to the Tranny bars with Dr. Earnshawe's canine units of frothing dogs. The big tall strong sex monsters were lined up in front of the dogs and made offers they could not refuse.  They folded like cards and switched sides.  Six foot tall killer sex machine trannies were formed into sexual phalanxes and surrounded Dana for his protection.

Both sides had instinctively known in sand table creations of the coming battle that the trannies would play a key role.  But it was Dr. J.A.Earnshawe BSc Phd who was able in an odd drunken Churchillian way to crack the code when he blurted out:

"To the victors go the trannies." 

It wasn't completely clear what the good Dr. meant but everyone agreed that he was on to something tactically important and the canine corp was assigned to him.  Well, it tuned out that stripping preop trannies naked and then threatening them with soi dog BJ's had a wonderfully focusing effect on them.  They switched sides immediately.  God bless Dr. Earnshawe.  Great moments make great leaders.

Up on the roof in front of the Angelwitch Bar surrounded by cats and condoms mamasan general Na saw the long legged, big breasted, collagen lipped trannies switch sides and she instantly knew that the opposing general suddenly had the kind of protection that Genghis Kahn and Napolean and Pizarro could have only dreamed about.  She shook and stomped and farted and then a long repressed wail came up from deep down in her aged brown body and issued from her lips like a cornered hyena in Botswana.  The girls heard the wail, and the cry, and the lament, and the panic, and the anger, and the need, and the desire from their mamasan general Na and knew instinctively that the battle was enjoined for keeps.  Field Marshall Pim inside the Angelwitch Bar has also heard the call to arms and she burst from the bar and leaned out over the second floor wall and yelled in a voice so stentorian, so loud, so far reaching to the furthest reaches of the plaza, so booming, and so commanding that you might have thought it was a man's voice:

"Forget the foreplay; it's a fxxx to the finish. Just pull the farangs down and rub them raw before going for the wallet."

Girls who had never been choreographed by Pim at the Angelwitch and had never met Pim; knew when they heard her orders that it was time to 'shuffle, step, step, turn, and kick'.  Kick the farangs in the groin. By now the whole of the plaza had been stuffed shoulder to shoulder with men so the girls just started stripping off and jumping from the second floor balcony and the third floor balcony into the mosh pit of big wallets and big dicks.  Thousands of plummeting naked women high on sex, and cranked on ya ba, and consumed with revenge, and driven by promises made to loved ones about new school books, and fashionable clothes, and expensive groceries, and a motorbike for the boyfriend. 

The rest was history.

Finis

Ok, which story did you prefer: GUNS AND BLOOD by Kill'em Kwik Kelley or SEMEN AND LOVE by me?  Hey, it's the same story twice.  Classic conflicts on the world stage between implacable foes.  The Japs and the Americans are friends now; but will this ever happen between men and women?  The story SEMEN AND LOVE is about the ageless confrontation.  Men want as much sex as possible for the least amount of money.  And women want all of the money for the least amount of effort.  I suspect history tells us these two implacable foes will never reconcile; but go from skirmishes to major conflicts and back again endlessly.  Anyway, that is how I write my stories.

When I turn 16 mommy says I can leave the basement and go to the library where I will be able to plagiarize from grownup books just like real writers do.  She also says she will then take me to Bangkok where I will be able to feed a banana to an elephant; but first I have to stop lying to the doctors.

Oops, I hear the basement door opening--Mommy is coming.  See ya later.

© Dana. All rights reserved by the author.