Pattaya, 30 Jan. 2013.
Considering Nong's obsession to play the game of mouse and cat with the local constabulary, like for example riding her scooter around Pattaya with Pas De Helmet just to piss of the darned Thamruat, I am not all that pleased with Mister Fat Pig in his official brownies stumbling around this beach side restaurant drunk as the proverbial skunk.
At any given time the average cop in in Thailand can be a serious threat to a Farang' peace of mind, especially so here in Farang heaven where the local pigs carry big pistols strapped to their waist - the bigger the better, probably seen in a Clint Eastwood' Dirty Harry movie - and walkie-talkies that always seem to blare the latest Farang caused mishap into the world.
With this particular piece of law enforcement shame waving any of the aforementioned items around with abandoned arrogance and drunk sef-importance - more like he owns the joint - eyeballing the dead quiet clientele for possible hard time criminals and crazy Nong doing likewise hard eyeballing this nutty Mao pig in official tight brown service uniform, my feelings of an imminent police imposed threat grow by the minute...
Maybe a timely leave of absence while the leaving is still good and possibly before things get really nasty, no time to laddle down my Tom Yam Khung, not really interested to see my ladyfriend Nong turning into a bona fide bumster of the city's finest, or in this case the city's drunkest and loudest, would definitely do no good to my already badly outstanding reputation with those still sober at Soi Police Station...
Yeah, Mister Fat Cop is really pissed off, glaring back at Nong with bloodshot eyes while deliberately putting his booted foot down on a big unlucky cockroach with considerable relish who when this morning arived had very little idea his or hers - I always find it difficult to tell the sexes apart in the cockroach clan - untimely demise was gonna be the face saving grace between Drunk Pig and Crazy Police Hating Nong...
Dragging Nong along direction outside and Farawayistan I have the mental sounds in my Farang head of a cracking of carapace, the rupture of cockroach inards, hoping against better judgement that the poor beetle, only mere seconds ago happily scurrying around a Mekka food place for the cockroach species, has made lots of merit in his short insect life and thus having loads of prospects not coming back in the next one around as a drunk Thamruat in Pattaya...
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