MANICHAEAN
09-26-2012, 01:55 AM
The White Cobra:
It was the third bar he had been in that night and though his senses were somewhat dulled by a steady consumption of high end spirits, he noted that the gecko in the Cambodian night had called more than five times.
“That’s good luck isn’t it?” Padraig said abruptly, raising his head as if he were addressing an audience. To his left, the girl in the red tank top and tight jeans replied “Yes.”
But then she had said “Yes” to everything that night, understanding little but wishing to please.
“How long have you lived in Phnom Penh?”
“Yes.”
“Are cars expensive here?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Boom, boom all night $20.”
Charlie Alpha to base received loud and clear.
At that point he had switched off. He had only come out for a drink anyway, but she hung in there like a sea gull downwind of a fishing trawler discarding its unwanted catch.
He had not been until now, aware of a Khmer male two stools along to his other side.
“It’s the liver snake,” the individual said.
Padraig looked at the elderly man, endeavouring to assume an element of focus in his own bearing and comprehension.
“It’s the liver snake,” the white haired one repeated in a papery wheeze. “When the tokay gecko’s liver gets swollen it cannot make any noise and at this point the golden tree snake comes, slides inside the willing tokay’s mouth and eats a piece of its liver. Then it leaves and the relieved tokay goes about its noisy business.”
He was very old, with yellowish skin, well-oiled and sported a short-sleeved, unbuttoned faded shirt and an ankle length sarong though which intermittently appeared black briefs of questionable origins.
“Are you joking?” said Padraig.
“Oh no sir. I’ve seen it with my own eyes as a young child. My father said come, look. I saw them together… Then the tokay ran away.”
The bar owner approached.
“Don’t go starting all that nonsense Da. Let Mr Padraig have his drink in peace.”
“Excuse him Mr Padraig, “Da” as we know him around here has been drunk longer than you and I have been alive. Normally he does not care for a second party to exchange dialogue with, as he has proven time and time again that he is more than capable of holding rigorous debates on his own.”
Da’s expression turned inquisitive as he sorted into his inner space.
“They don’t have snakes in Ireland, do they?”
“No, they were banished,” replied Padraig.
He had been wrong footed. ”How did this old devil, know about where he had been born? He didn’t look as if he had journeyed out of this area since being conceived.”
With that, the old man, buttock by buttock rose from his stool and wandered out, seemingly unaware of the impression he had made with his superlative tale of reptile symbiosis.
He moved along the perimeter of Wat Phnom, past the numerous karaoke establishments, massage parlours and freelance prostitutes in bars and nightclubs. Neon lights flashed from windows, ‘Brown Sugar” belted from one and middle-aged Western men sat at tables talking to each other as hostesses draped themselves over their shoulders to massage whatever came to hand. Up past the Buddhist temple Da made his way, then down into streets and alleys so narrow that even a dog negotiating passage would have been obliged to wag its tail up and down, if so inclined. At a door that appeared low and indistinguishable, he edged is way inside and lay on the bed. There was still the pain under the rib cage on the right side of his body. He ran his fingers down and felt the swelling of the abdomen.
His daughter returned shortly after.
“Well?”
“He paid the bar fine Da, and gave me $20. But he did not want me.”
“No, he felt lucky. There was no need,” said the old man.
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Luke 11:
If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent?
It was the third bar he had been in that night and though his senses were somewhat dulled by a steady consumption of high end spirits, he noted that the gecko in the Cambodian night had called more than five times.
“That’s good luck isn’t it?” Padraig said abruptly, raising his head as if he were addressing an audience. To his left, the girl in the red tank top and tight jeans replied “Yes.”
But then she had said “Yes” to everything that night, understanding little but wishing to please.
“How long have you lived in Phnom Penh?”
“Yes.”
“Are cars expensive here?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Boom, boom all night $20.”
Charlie Alpha to base received loud and clear.
At that point he had switched off. He had only come out for a drink anyway, but she hung in there like a sea gull downwind of a fishing trawler discarding its unwanted catch.
He had not been until now, aware of a Khmer male two stools along to his other side.
“It’s the liver snake,” the individual said.
Padraig looked at the elderly man, endeavouring to assume an element of focus in his own bearing and comprehension.
“It’s the liver snake,” the white haired one repeated in a papery wheeze. “When the tokay gecko’s liver gets swollen it cannot make any noise and at this point the golden tree snake comes, slides inside the willing tokay’s mouth and eats a piece of its liver. Then it leaves and the relieved tokay goes about its noisy business.”
He was very old, with yellowish skin, well-oiled and sported a short-sleeved, unbuttoned faded shirt and an ankle length sarong though which intermittently appeared black briefs of questionable origins.
“Are you joking?” said Padraig.
“Oh no sir. I’ve seen it with my own eyes as a young child. My father said come, look. I saw them together… Then the tokay ran away.”
The bar owner approached.
“Don’t go starting all that nonsense Da. Let Mr Padraig have his drink in peace.”
“Excuse him Mr Padraig, “Da” as we know him around here has been drunk longer than you and I have been alive. Normally he does not care for a second party to exchange dialogue with, as he has proven time and time again that he is more than capable of holding rigorous debates on his own.”
Da’s expression turned inquisitive as he sorted into his inner space.
“They don’t have snakes in Ireland, do they?”
“No, they were banished,” replied Padraig.
He had been wrong footed. ”How did this old devil, know about where he had been born? He didn’t look as if he had journeyed out of this area since being conceived.”
With that, the old man, buttock by buttock rose from his stool and wandered out, seemingly unaware of the impression he had made with his superlative tale of reptile symbiosis.
He moved along the perimeter of Wat Phnom, past the numerous karaoke establishments, massage parlours and freelance prostitutes in bars and nightclubs. Neon lights flashed from windows, ‘Brown Sugar” belted from one and middle-aged Western men sat at tables talking to each other as hostesses draped themselves over their shoulders to massage whatever came to hand. Up past the Buddhist temple Da made his way, then down into streets and alleys so narrow that even a dog negotiating passage would have been obliged to wag its tail up and down, if so inclined. At a door that appeared low and indistinguishable, he edged is way inside and lay on the bed. There was still the pain under the rib cage on the right side of his body. He ran his fingers down and felt the swelling of the abdomen.
His daughter returned shortly after.
“Well?”
“He paid the bar fine Da, and gave me $20. But he did not want me.”
“No, he felt lucky. There was no need,” said the old man.
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Luke 11:
If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent?