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Part 5

So my lady and Sis and I drop off our friends at their house, which is right around the corner from our place, and go home to wait for the meeting. My wife arranges for the scary mini-van driver to pick up our daughter from school in the afternoon and drop her off at home, where my lady's Mum will be to watch her until we return from the SALT treaty talks.

We grab a bite to eat, chat some about the day's excitement, and I grab a beer or two and we take a nap. It had been a strenuous and nerve wracking day, to say the least. Plus we were still a bit whacked out from the long night before. Some bed time adventure ensues, which always has a calming effect on people under stress you know, and we drift off to sleep for a bit. Post traumatic sex. Quite relaxing.

After a couple of hours Sis wakes us and feeds us and we leave to pick up our friends for the negotiations. We go to their house, where the ladies seem in no rush to leave and start chatting a bit. I get the tour from hubbie of his cock-fighting stable. Some mean-assed looking roosters he has here. From what I'm told he does pretty well betting on his roosters and I am invited to attend a cockfight some day with him. I accept the invitation and make a note to myself to bet on the big black cock with the iridescent head feathers. This is one mean looking bird; it's his favorite, and the stud of his cock stable. I hadn't known that when making my choice of a bird I'd like to bet on. Seems I have a good eye for fighting bird flesh, so I am told. Shit. I just figured if the bird looked like something I wouldn't want to fight after razors have been strapped to its feet then I guess it would put up a good fight with another bird. I mean, I outweigh the freakin' feathered Mike Tyson by a good 200 pounds, and I still wouldn't want to be anywhere near the damned thing if it was pissed off and armed with cutting utensils.

Finally we all climb into the truck and head for the police station. Following us is another truck filled with our co-negotiators; his brother, his father, his mechanic, the mechanic's brother, his wife's brother, two of his friends, and a neighbor who just wanted to come along for the fun I guess. We arrive at the police station en mass and descend on the negotiating tables ... an open air slab of concrete covered with a thatched roof held up by four poles and surrounded by the most uncomfortable benches I've ever had the pleasure to park my ass on. The truck driver had yet to show up, but the cops were there. It was about 4:20. I guess we were early.

We chatted with the cops, sent the ladies across the street for some colas and snacks, and partied and waited for the offending party to arrive. I figured he'd arrive on time, an hour late, at 5 p.m. (Thais are notorious for always being late). Seemed logical to me, right? No one seemed upset now. A downright party atmosphere vibe filled the area. Smiles and joking abound. Laughter filled the air around the negotiating tables, the uncomfortable benches. Colas were drank, food was shared, the late afternoon air sweltered, the falang sweated a bit and drank his own cola while being hand fed by his lovely lady. No lawyers were seen or heard from, which is always a good sign. A mechanic from down the street was called over to inspect our damaged truck by the tall cop, to get an 'independent' appraisal from a disinterested party I presumed.

Although he was a friend of the tall cop, our family's friend, so his 'independence' was a bit questionable I think.

(to be continued)

Cent
(The Central Scrutinizer)

© Written in the year 2000. All rights reserved by the author.