Green IslandBangkok Pulp Fiction Part Two
February 14th 2010 09:01
Doing the twist
Rory floated up into a dream as he started to surface from the coma of hash induced sleep. In the dream he was trying to buy a fake watch in Patpong. His Dublin mates were there for some reason, and they were telling him to hurry up. The stall holder wanted 3000 Baht for the Breitling watch. Rory only wanted to pay 1000 Baht. As he was handling the watch he dropped it and the thing broke into several bits on the dirty street floor. The Thai shopkeeper started shouting at him.
He woke up to thumping at his door. Rory, for a moment, wasn’t sure where he was. It was dark in the room. Then it all came back: Sunneill, the bright green suit, the hash, Melee, the boy taking him back to the hotel and the note. What a fool! Where was the note? The thumping at the door continued. A woman’s voice shouted, “Rory, it’s me Melee. Wake up!”
Rory turned on the bedside lamp and went to open the door.
Melee stood in the brightly lit corridor. Her expression changed from annoyance to amusement as she looked at Rory’s underpants. “Did you read my note?”
“No. Sorry. I passed out when I got back from the shop. Let me find it. Er.. come in, Melee.”
Melee walked passed Rory. She smelt of incense like a temple. She was no longer wearing traditional garb. Now she was wearing tight jean material hot pants and a little white T-shirt that accentuated her assets. Rory couldn’t help but stare. She was beautiful. Despite his best efforts to be a gentleman, he felt himself stiffen. He blushed.
Rather than be offended, Melee smiled wickedly and reached out to stroke Rory’s tumescence. Her long pink nails drew a line upwards. “Rory, we have no time for this. Wear clothes.” Her nails withdrew and Rory quietly sighed.
Rory dumbly turned around and looked for his jeans by the side of the bed. While he was dressing Melee went on: “Sunneill is a bad man. You were very stupid today. You bought worst suit I ever see Rajiva make. Sunneill he laugh all afternoon. He has plan to get you in trouble and make more money from you. I knew it as soon as he sold you the hash. That’s why I bribe Rajiva to give you the note and not tell the master. Soon he will phone you and invite you out. He say bring hash, wear suit and meet him in expensive bar in Soi Ha. Then in bar, police come and find hash and arrest you. You pay money to policeman to not go to prison. Later, policeman share baksheesh with Sunneill. Oh Rory, I see you are nice boy and so I come to help you.”
“Fuck,” was all Rory could say. His erection had instantly evaporated. “Wha..What do I do?”
“Give me hash. I sell it for you and get you money back. When Sunneill phone you agree to his plan. If you say ‘no’ then he will know that I warned you. In bar you no have hash so no problem with policeman.” For a moment Rory thought about having at least one smoke of the potent hash and possibly seeing if the elevated mood would stimulate Melee to further seductive actions. He forced himself to focus.
“Common on,” he told himself, “self-preservation first.”
“OK. What then?”
“You leave bar. Sunneill will try and make you stay and buy him drinks. But you make excuse and leave. Then come here. I will be waiting in hotel reception for you. I take you to new, safe hotel and give you money for hash. Then your problem go away. Only bad suit remain. Souvenir from Bangkok.”
“Melee, how can I thank you enough. I..”
The phone rang and Rory jumped. “Answer it. Remember what I say.”
Elephant in Sukhimvit Road
Rory went over to the bed and sat down and picked up the receiver. Sure enough it was Sunneill. His voice oozed with joy. He went on about needing to see his masterpiece again. How he was very happy to make such an excellent Irish friend. How he wanted to have some fun with Rory that night and sure enough how Rory should wear the green suit and bring the hash to an ‘exclusive’ bar he knew in Soi Ha where there were many fine ladies. Sunneill would show Rory an excellent time. Rory agreed to meet Sunneill at nine that night in the bar. He had no problem acting dumb. He felt like that had become his natural state ever since he made the fateful decision to buy a suit before he went home. He hung up.
Melee put her hand out. Rory thought perhaps something erotic was expected of him.
Melee seemed to read his mind or perhaps just his bulge. She smiled seductively, “No time for jiggy jiggy. Give me hash. Sunneill will be wondering what I am doing. I tell him I go shopping for lady things.”
Rory looked around perplexedly. Where the hell was that lump of gear? The full weight of the awfulness that he had got himself in was beginning to conquer his lust and freeze up his mental faculties. Every traveller knew of the dangers of being caught with gear in Thailand. He looked in his jeans pockets. No hash. He found the bags with the shoes and shirts in and emptied them on the bad. No hash. Melee went over to the green suit lying draped over the back of a chair. Rory watched as she quickly found the hash in the inside jacket pocket. Rory started to say something but his words were interrupted by the sight of Melee lifting up her T-shirt to reveal a small white lace bra and curving flesh. She tucked the cellophane wrapped hash under her left nipple and pushed on the bra cup to flatten the lump.
“Remember, what I said. I meet you in hotel reception later tonight.”
With that she turned and left. Rory was left in a daze of conflicting thoughts. Even though he didn’t really smoke cigarettes, he wanted one badly at that point. He looked at his watch which wasn’t a Breitling, not even a fake one. It was seven o’clock. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and calm down. Five minutes later he left the room and went in search of a packet of Marlboro lights.
On the streets of Sukhumvit the usual assortment of Thais in yellow T-shirts, street hawkers and bar girls with old western men paraded up and down the street. Arabs in dish dashes and sunglasses, Nigerians hanging on the corner and shaking the hands of brothers who passed mixed with tourists with day packs. Rory sat on the curb outside the 7 eleven and spluttered over his cigarette. He was trying to think but the pop tunes blaring out of the bar on the opposite side of the road distracted him. So he got up and walked off down a side street dodging the taxis, tuk tuks, dogs and pedestrians. Should he move hotel now, perhaps some shit hole in Khao San Road, and break both his appointments with Sunneill and Melee. But..but, Melee was the most desirable woman who had ever showed interest in his potato shaped head, big nose and unruly sandy hair. How could he miss out on another provocative encounter with her? Or maybe she wouldn’t show. She now had 30 or 40 Euros of hash and, of course, Sunneill had a further 100 Euros of his travelling money. Perhaps they were in it together; after all, they were husband and wife. Was he just being played for the fool? Was his green suit that bad? If it was so bad why did he buy it? Well the hash was good. In fact the best he had ever tried. So much to think about. He walked for thirty minutes in a trance and when he stopped to get his bearings he found himself in front of “Best European Fashion Suit”. He paused in front of the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Melee. Instead his gaze caught the eye of the teenage lad working in the shop, the alleged creator of the green suit. The boy turned around and caught Rory’s eye. Rory got all flustered when the boy recognized him. The boy started to gesture at Rory and moved towards the shop door. Rory tried to walk on like he hadn’t seen the boy.
Around the corner, the boy accosted Rory. “Master-ji, master-ji. Stop”
“Oh hello. I didn’t see you.” Rory lied badly.
“Master-ji. I must be speaking with you. I am Sunneill’s nephew. I made your green suit. I wanted to make it better, but Sunneill told me to use green cloth he cannot sell. Don’t trust my uncle, he’s a bad man. And mistress Melee she help..” Rajiva went silent.
“She what?” Rory asked desperately.
“Rajiva, what are you doing? Oh hello, Rory. What are you doing here?” It was Melee she was standing behind Rory. Rory turned around and felt weak in the legs.
“Auntie-ji,” Rajiva said, bowed slightly and slipped away.
“You fool. Quickly go away. If Sunneill see you here he will invite you in, make you smoke chillum and take more money from you. Don’t trust Rajiva. He steal money from Sunneill. Now go. I see you tonight.” As she said the last sentence her voice lost its anger. She looked him in the eyes and whispered, “Tonight, Rory.”
For the second time that day, she turned her back on him and walked off quickly. Rory went back to his hotel.
At 8.50pm Rory entered the Nine Dragons Bar on Soi Ha wearing his newly acquired green suit. He had to take three quarter stride steps for fear of ripping the suit trousers that uncomfortably stretched over his scrotum and arse. He also had to be careful not to swing his arms too much because they were restricted by the suit jacket cuffs. In the Bangkok neon night the suit’s colour took on a deeper hue, the colour of vomited chartreuse. It reminded Rory somehow of back home.
Rory waited for half an hour before Sunneill showed up. To kill the time he sat at a table and watched Thais, foreigners and pretty bar girls laughing and drinking whiskey. The music was loud, too loud and techno. Everyone smoked fags so Rory had his second of the day.
Sunneill was all smiles and apologies for keeping his good friend waiting. He barked some Thai at a passing bar girl and she soon reappeared with two tumblers of whiskey and two bottles of coke.
“So, hello, my friend from Ireland. Ah I see you wear my masterpiece. Look at the quality. You see how the green has new power in this light? Yes, yes. Amazing. I must take picture of you in suit to put in my new excellent catalogue. I am so happy to get opportunity to make such fine tailored suit for you. And now we drink together. Cheers.”
With that they clinked glasses and took big sips of the whiskey. Rory noted this tasted like real whiskey as opposed to the bizarre sweet stuff that Thais lovingly referred to as ‘whiskey’. Sunneill pushed back his chair and brazenly surveyed the room.
fantastic felines?
“You, my friend, Rory. Have you tried sweet pussy of Thailand? I get best for you tonight. Bah. I only see second quality here.”
The bar girls looked stunning to Rory; but not as stunning as Sunneill’s wife, Melee. Why would he play around when he has that at home waiting for him?
“So my friend, you bring hash with you?” Rory nodded and Sunneill continued to spout off like he was on something stronger than dope. “Later we smoke. I make good joint for you: Nepalese style. But first we drink.” With that Sunneill barked and soon two more whiskeys were placed in front of them. Sunneill talked quickly to the girl who nodded and left.
They drank their whiskeys quickly. Rory didn’t have to contribute much to the conversation. Sunneill never really expected any answers, his questions seemed to be for mere effect, rhetorical. His spirits were altitudinous and yet he griped that this and that were not good enough for his inestimable friend from Ireland. His spiel was momentarily interrupted by two Thai girls in tiny jean hot pants and semi transparent black blouses pulling up chairs and sitting at their table. Sunneill grabbed the legs of the one nearest him and squeezed like he was judging the quality of the meat. Rory panicked a bit: was he expected to paw his as well?
“You like, Rory-ji? Yes, yes. Not top quality, but not so bad,” Sunneill looked at his again and grabbed her right breast. “And yours Rory. Nice legs and bum. Ha ha. You want blow job? She will do for you under table. I pay for my good friend from Ireland. You see she likes you lots.” Indeed she had started leaning on Rory and had put her hand on his lap. “I pay no problem..”
Bangkok bar girl
Rory knew he couldn’t be dragged along any longer. He stood up abruptly and heard a tearing noise. His green suit had torn around the crotch.
For a minute Sunneill laughed and make jokes about Rory’s bionic cock. Rory persevered. “I am sorry Sunneill. I don’t feel well. I have to go back to my hotel room to lie down. No sorry I cannot..I mean I don’t want a blowjob. And I don’t feel like a joint.”
Sunneill’s face dropped in mock horror. The girls watched them and sipped their lady drinks through straws. Sunneill quickly pulled his face back to its usual smugness and made Rory sit down and have one more drink before he left. With that he grabbed his mobile lying on the table and departed for the toilets.
While Sunneill was away Rory politely explained to his girl (whose name he had already forgotten) that he didn’t want a blow job at that moment and that she shouldn’t be trying to put her hand through the tear in his suit pants because it would only make the hole bigger.
On returning Sunneill seemed more business-like. He drank his whiskey quickly, ordered the bill and ordered Rory to pay 500 Baht. He asked casually if Rory wanted to pay the bar fine for his girl. Rory vaguely recalled that the girl was supposed to be on the ever generous Sunneill. No he wouldn’t be needing the girl tonight. They shook hands outside the bar and parted without further ado. As soon as Sunneill was out of sight Rory saw a policeman in an incredibly tight dark brown uniform approach him. Rory couldn’t help but admire the cop’s tailor who obviously knew how to make a strong stitch. It was looking more and more like Melee had been right in her predictions for the evening.
Despite not having any hash on him, Rory felt incredibly flustered. His knees perceptibly wobbled. He felt ridiculous in the green suit. The policeman spoke the standard pidgin English and very quickly demanded Rory’s passport. Rory had anticipated this and had bought out a photocopy instead. This really pissed off the copper who fingered the gun strapped around his plump waist. He made Rory turn around and he quickly started to frisk the green suit. Then he went through the pockets. He didn’t find any hash but he did find the note that Melee had written. That quickly vanished into the cop’s chest pocket. Rory wanted to complain but realized that he was very much at the mercy of this hard boiled policeman and the best policy was to be submissive and dumb. It worked. The policeman found his wallet and took the remaining bills. He was also curious about Rory’s watch. Rory took it off. The policeman snorted with derision at the cheap watch with the plastic strap and handed the watch and wallet back to Rory, then turned on his heels and left.
Not for the first time that day, Rory sighed heavily. He then found his fags and lit one. He was really shaken up, he thought about the hash he didn’t have. It was a relief not getting busted but he sure could use a joint to calm down. He started walking back to his hotel. As he turned the corner and entered the soi where he was staying he stepped on a dog lying on the pavement. It was a nasty big mongrel with scabby dready fur. It yelped in pain and then without further warning sunk its fangs in Rory’s leg. The green of Rory’s trousers seemed to incense the dog more than the step on its tail. It released Rory’s leg and grabbed at a flapping fold of the trousers and yanked its head tearing the trousers. With a mouth full of green material it ran off down a dark alley. Rory’s left leg was bleeding. He felt like crying.
In the hotel lobby he saw Melee patiently waiting for him. He had forgotten all about his promised tryst. She got up from the couch where she had been waiting and spoke to the man at reception. He gave her Rory’s room key and she walked off towards the elevator without turning to see if Rory was following. Of course he was following. And bleeding on the tiled floor. The pathetic spectacle that was Rory must have been noticed by the handful of locals and guests milling around the lobby but nobody let it show on their face.
In the room Melee was more solicitous. She cooed about him and made him sit down on the toilet and cleaned his wound. Rory tried his best in simple English to explain what had happened to him – the bar, Sunneill, the policeman, the dog, the stolen money, his torn crotch and his ripped trouser leg. She stroked his hair and reassured him that everything was fine. She pulled out a small bundle of Thai Baht from her nearly indecent pair of shorts and put it in Rory’s hand.
“Here your money Rory. For hash. I get good price for you. But I give some to man in reception so you can have Thai lady in your room. Now you must make new clothes and get ready bag to leave. I know cheap cheap but good hotel in China town for you. Owner my friend. He give you friend price. You no worry. Sunneill not find you. He still in bar with girl. I know. We have plenty time for fun.”
That word “fun” was pregnant with promise and it spurred Rory to shake off his self-pity and get moving, to stop being such a passive victim of Bangkok. He risked a kiss and Melee met his mouth with ferocity. His suit pants no longer restricted the blood rising to the call of nature. Melee melted into his embracing arms. But no, there were things to be done first. He released Melee and went back into the room. He found a plaster for his leg, changed into gap army trousers and stuffed all his belongings quickly into his backpack and day bag. He put the tattered remains of Sunneill’s masterpiece into the bin and departed the room without looking back. Melee followed. Down in the reception area they had to wait while someone went to check the contents of the mini bar. He handed most of the money that Melee had given him to the receptionist to pay for his room bill.
Out on the street Melee expertly hailed a yellow cab and got the driver to go on the meter. Rory finally relaxed as they drove slowly through the snarled up traffic of Bangkok. The streets of China town seemed totally different to those of Sukhumvit. Only locals could be seen. They were hanging around food stalls eating noodles.
The hotel was shabby and the small foyer was dim. Rory got out his passport and filled in a form. He paid with the last of his money for the deposit for the room key and got a receipt. There was no elevator so they walked up four flights of bare concrete steps to get to the room.
The room contained a double bed, a chipped brown set of drawers with a TV on top, a big air-con unit, a bedside table with a phone and a tiny bathroom with the shower head directly over the toilet. Although Rory didn’t care much for his surroundings nothing could dampen his enthusiasm for the main event. Melee, however, pushed him away.
“Darling. First shower. You go first. I get Thai whiskey.” And with that she picked up one of the towels on the bed and threw it at Rory. She then went to the phone and called down to reception. As Rory undressed he listened to Melee on the phone. The only word he could recognize was “Samsung”. He went off and had a shower, standing off to the side of the toilet. While he was drying himself the whiskey arrived. Melee made Rory a drink and took another towel. She handed the drink to Rory and went into the bathroom and shut the door.
Rory lay on the bed and to the sound of running water he wondered about Bangkok: the non-stop blatantness of the place He thought about the incessant flow of whiskey, money and girls, the beggars, the seedy tourists and the golden temples. As Melee reappeared wrapped up in a towel that barely covered her pubis Rory remembered his discarded green suit and his undesirable watch. Show time.
The picture of the elephant is from www.stickmanweekly.com
The dog painting is from www.chriscolesgallery.com
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Comment by john dagley
to be continued?? you brought rory into my life dont let him go away
Comment by Green Island
Trippy Traveller