Trumpet

It's colder than a mamasan's tit in a brass bra and the snow in the courtyard is thigh deep for the raven haired, almond eyed Thai women who come to throw snow against the window and ask me if I want to come out and make love. Pookie, my wife, says it's ok that they throw snow against the window because they are 'eaters-of-dog' and she will be number one wife to best husband forever! Her comment has her usual forthrightness and mystery; and reminds me of how we met.

Last year I had contracted to deliver a cargo of condoms, piano keys, alpacas, chilies, fried roaches, monks, and virgins to the Siamese Sultan of the Kubla Khan whose pink coral castle guarded the Sundra Strait. Just south of Ko Lan Reef off Nana Plaza Bay while the brigantine Mai Pen Rai was ghosting along on a satin green sea; I happened to notice a lateen rigged vessel on the horizon. With a frothing bow and centipede appendages, it was soon clear that she was rowing and sailing directly for us. Was she a pirate? Was she a ghost?

Up went the skysails, stunsails, wind canopys, brassieres, monks umbrellas, sleeping mats, and anything else that we could think of to gain speed. But it was to no avail. The lateen was faster. In desperation, we threw over the condoms, the alpacas, the piano keys, and the roaches. The lateen kept gaining and we could soon spy her decks filled with Malay men and yelping soi dogs. She was sporting cannon, grenade launchers, bazookas, blunderbusses, machine guns, crossbows, and high-powered rifles. We had a deckload of virgins from Udon and some bicycle-tube slingshots that could throw rotten fruit.

Around 1 pm the forces of Satan were astern and the battle began. Soon our decks were running red, the sails were full of holes, and my white linen suit was all splatterdashed with my best friend's brains. Virgins were crying. Soi dogs and Malay men were licking their lips in anticipation of the coming boarding party. So intent were they on sinning that they failed to notice the big black squall that had crept up behind us both.

The squall struck both ships at the same time. At the first thunderclap; suddenly a half-naked woman with a red skirt and lacquer black hair raced out on to the end of our bowsprit and started blowing on a trumpet. The apparition so astonished the pirate captain that he failed to mind the squall, rounded up, and was capsized. As his ship was rounding up; I stepped to starboard, hauled down on the spokes of the wheel, and bore off before the wind. Over my shoulder I could see nothing! The pirate ship was gone. Like a ghost. To this day I have no idea what that woman thought she was doing by running out on to the end of the bowsprit and blowing on a trumpet; but her name was Pookie and she is now my wife. We are expecting our first baby soon.

We will name him Trumpet.

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