Fiction

I smile with the yeti mystic humility of one who has . . .

It would be GREAT to own Thailand.

Mr. Grosvenor stares at the ceiling over his bed and waits to die. Since the Veterans Administration built this hospital in 1949 many other old men have spent the last hours of their lives staring at that same piece of ceiling. Nobody knows exactly how many, they don’t keep those kinds of records. While he waits to die Mr. Grosvenor mumbles. He can no longer digest food, move his bowels, urinate, or walk, but he can still speak, in a papery whisper to which only he is currently listening.

Mulling over life's set backs on a cold christmas ever an of generosity is horribly perverted.

Is there a system for picking and taking out a winning bar fine in Bangkok? Well yes there is, in fact there are several. However, none of them are guaranteed. The new man in town as well as the old hand are pretty much on their own when it comes to bar fining. ‘Pay the Fine and do the Short Time – Good or Bad,’ is pretty much the common business practice in Bangkok. But there might be a better way. It’s not guaranteed but in a Thai go-go bar, not much ever is that involves intercourse of any type with a Mamasan and her Yings.

The lights of Bangkok’s skyline slid down the taxi’s windscreen like a meteor shower. Murray’s eyes felt cleansed by the sight of it. The sound of the tires on the freeway from the airport had a quality he’d never heard, a drone that possibly had never existed before he noticed it. The smile of the desk clerk when he checked in was compassion made flesh, and he could have spent the rest of the night staring into that bright brown face.

The near rags he was wearing, his shaking hands and the difficulty he had with lightening his cigarette told me he was in the right part of town, in the exact bar and sitting on the bar stool he needed to be on at two o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon in Bangkok. What followed was possibly the most horrendous tale of personal tragedy and woe ever recounted in a Bangkok bar, and there is plenty of tragedy and woe to share with others in Bangkok’s bars on any day. Of course the wankers in the British Embassy were involved.

. . . drained the toilet bowl.

Some couple had to be first and despite what the Republican Party wants us to believe it didn’t happen in the White House. This report identifies the first guy to talk her into trying it and the first Ying to go down. This award winning piece of journalism by the VD staff had social and sex historians in hot debate over the merits of its research and conclusions. Some feminists are still calling for the closure of the VD. We love those carpet munchers.

Malayan Breweries Limited (MBL), now known Asia Pacific Breweries, was founded in 1931. Tiger is the company's flagship beer and has been since its creation in 1932 in Malaysia. The beer has always been popular with Europeans, many of whom made up a large section of Malaya's beer drinking population in the early twentieth century.

. . . lined up to start conga line dancing.

. . . F-86 Sabre jets running up for take-off . . .

Anne was forty five. She'd gone through menopause and was glad to have that out of the way. She and Alan had been married twenty seven years. Like most marriages, the sex had started off steamy and hot.

I can’t stand do gooders, they really get on my nerves in fact I hate them, I hate tin shakers, fund raisers, bible bashers, Guardian readers, lefties, feminists, dreadlocked feminists, Civil Servants wives, tree huggers and primary school teachers. Out of genuine disdain when I meet somebody like that I get my copy of the Sunday Sport out and mention women with big knockers as loudly as I can to keep them away from me, and for my money that’s how things should be.

. . . tranny in erectus . . .