The bemused bagman of bangkok.

[MANICHAEAN]

THE BEMUSED BAGMAN OF BANGKOK.

Part 1:
Timmy Thongchai was not, even by his own standards, in the best of moods.

He had returned late Saturday from his marauding around the bars of Bangkok and in endeavoring to slip into bed was addressed by his supposed sleeping wife in terms of inconvenient factual questioning, that he was at a loss to respond to.

“Is that you darling?” came a soft murmer from the bed. “What time is it?”

“Oh sorry, my sweet, I thought you were sleeping. It’s only 2am.”

“That’s strange!’

“What is my beauty?”

“Oh it’s just that when you left this evening you put on your green underpants.”

“Yes my love. So what’s the problem?”

“Well it’s just that they were originally on the right way. Now you have them on back to front!”

Needless to say, even for a man as quick on his feet as Timmy, there are some situations you cannot talk yourself out of.

Which was a shame, for Timmy was a bagman for a high placed district hood, and dignity was one aspect he could not afford to have eroded. Most of his life he had been “challenged” in one way or another; vertically, horizontally, perpendicularly and socially.

Most of it was effectively hidden behind a demeanor of abruptness that intimidated lesser mortals. But if the word on the street got out that he had trouble regards the geographical orientation of his underwear, then he was dead meat in his profession.

[wavydavy123]

fairly enjoyed that somewhat humorous opening. looking forward to more.

[Steven Hunley]

This is a good start. But I'd put a comma between what is, and my beauty. I once visited a girl in college. When I knocked, she was late answering the door. A man was standing in her living room, and I noticed hit T-shirt was on backwards and inside out. The tag was showing! What had they been up to? One can only guess.

[MANICHAEAN]

With the amount of hydroxy steroid ketone that you must have produced in your eventful life to date, I'm somewhat surprised the love scenes incorporated in your stories is so subdued!

Have you been dipping into Jane Eyre again?

M.

[MANICHAEAN]

THE BEMUSED BAGMAN OF BANGKOK

PART 2.

Thongchai, thus was emotionally bewildered & battered and most of all, bemused by the situation he now found himself in. Is luck vulgar? In his Buddhist upbringing he had acquired the knowledge that there is inevitability and a beauty in fate, a fate which one asks for, and which one accepts in full.

But the wrongly orientated underwear, and all that it implied, was in this case not some playful amorous hide-and-seek between a husband and wife, akin to a jibe on the values of Thai’s towards farangs.

It cut to the crux of his wife’s traditional provincial values. She knew he was passionate, and likewise in passion she was at home. But she had matured.

Initially as a young girl married to this man she had thought there was no source deeper than the phallic source. With the deftness of touch and sensitivity however, from the mysteries of her husband’s body, from the strange marvellous flanks and thighs, had come a richness of security and emotional warmth, an accession into being. Now she had looked away, filled with darkness and secrecy.

Timmy Thongchai left his apartment. Outside it was the seemingly endless confusion of Bangkok traffic. Motor scooters emerged from designated compounds or soi’s, & scooped up cool, light-skinned Thai women, who perched side saddle and then proceeded to weave in and out of the vehicular mayhem. There was nothing in the way of pedestrian crossings. Cars, tutus and motorbikes were all over the place. Yet the locals had no problem to cross the roads & simply walked slowly, oblivious to the oncoming cars which simply gave way to them just in time before an accident occurred.

Timmy’s made his way to what, to all extents and purposes was the office, the abode of a well-known mafia boss who owned four clubs in the Thong Lor neighbourhood alone, all very profitable. Since he was a former Royal Thai Police Deputy Commissioner, he had good connections within the police force.

His office did not look at all like the stereotypical mafia boss hideout. There was a framed picture of him and his grandchildren in front of a yellow flower bed at Suan Luang Park, and his computer screen idly put out updates from the Manchester United match. The only giveaway was the heavy sitting in the back chain-smoking menthols.