Readers' Submissions

The Bucket Wagon

  • Written by Conundrum4U
  • December 30th, 2005
  • 10 min read


Dedicated to all you “Players”

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fxxxing big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fxxxing fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fxxxing junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life…

But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons.

Trainspotting Irvin Welsh

Who needs reasons when you’ve got Thailand? What a tangled web we weave thicker by the day. You wake up in the morning and read in the news that Michael Jackson was to up and move his Neverland ranch lock, stock, monkey and lama to Thailand. Does it surprise you.

Would you bollocks be surprised apart from the obvious attraction to Wacko Jacko Thailand is built up on fantasy thinly papering over the cracks of reality. Too many out here differentiating between the two is the hard part.

I don’t believe any one man can sum up Thailand, just when you think you have grasped the culture and the mind set you get thrown one almighty curve ball. Let your guard down and start to feel you’re in a comfort zone your going to get a fxxxing big kick in the balls and feel them in your throat as you try to swallow down the frustration and pain of it all.

But is than not part of the mystic and uncertainty of it all that appeals to the brave the foolish.

So we begin another story.

At a very early age Boo had learnt that school or education were not for him. He was unlike the rest of the boys in the village, always fighting always in trouble. At 12 he had first started working on the bucket wagon doing its rounds in Sakhon Nakhon surrounding areas trading buckets for stray and stolen dogs. For a small dog you got one bucket for a big dog such as a German shepherd you got 3 buckets. Many houses in Sakhon Nakhon had many buckets hanging up outside of them, testament and trophies to their trading. Boo loved this work of roping the dogs and throwing them into the back cages of the bucket wagon and at 16 he progressed to working in the slaughter house if you could call it that. He enjoyed the adrenalin rush of the slaughter, the short excitement of getting the rope on the thick pole around the dog’s necks and clubbing them unconscious.

He became so skilled he stopped using the thick wooden club and used his fist on the beasts he could knock even the biggest of dogs out in one blow to the right spot now. The cutting of the throat was the most dangerous part, you had to be careful if your previous work of knocking them out was clumsy and they we not fully unconscious, the bastard flees bitten semi rabid mutts could wake up at the wrong time and bite into you. Boo had an arm full of scars to prove this point but he did not care he enjoyed what he did.

Street food in Sakhon Nakhon can taste a little different from that of the vendors in Bangkok with a little added flavor from the irregular sized pork and chicken the distinctive taste is often joked about, by those more fortunate or wealthy to have other options other than “neiar maa” at there disposal.

But the meat was only a part of the process the fur collected on some of the pampered pet grade dogs has many commercial uses. In a particularly grisly twist, the skins of the dogs Boo brutally slaughtered were sometimes mixed with other bits of hide to produce rawhide chew toys shaped into slippers and bones by the outworkers in the region. These treats were sold to the more pampered pet dogs in Bangkok and regularly exported to and sold in European and U.S. stores.

At the age of 18 Boo had to move to Bangkok due to his increasing psychopathic tendencies a natural born killer he soon found himself in big trouble in the City and became retained by the police to provide certain services as and when required by them.

Look into the web cam sir said the expressionless blank eyed Thai Immigration officer. Joe looked into the web cam and gave a false impatient almost rude quick smile. From that moment on Joe may as well have had a tracking devise surgically implanted up his arse.

Because his name was a match it was instantly feed through to the police department whose commander wanted to know when this particular individual came back into the kingdom. 15 minuets later his picture smiling like a twat into the Cam was wired together with passport number, date of birth and the hotel he was staying in. And all helpfully filled in by Joe’s own hand as the 747 was starting its decent into Don Muang airport.

Joe was on a 3 week trip to the kingdom this time, partly business and partly for his own enjoyment and was going to play the field not get hooked up with any one girl. His relationship with Noi had put him off that idea and he swore never again. A divorcee and a long time “Player” he had been coming to the kingdom for many years spending various amounts of time working and playing and he thought he knew it all, even spoke a little of the lingo all be it dirty bedroom Thai.

He had always sworn that he would not get involved with any girl; he had heard too many bad stories. But Noi had been different in the beginning, very sweet, very well educated and from what she had told him from a good family. It had not been difficult for part of him to fall in love with her, but he never let himself go the whole way. He had started to play Noi make promises to her that he could never keep, talk of buying a house together, marriage, children even sin sot. He noticed Noi sexually had started to go a little cold on him, maybe she thought she had her claw’s into him too deep. He remembered an old joke how you stop your girlfriend from giving you head. Simple You marry her.

Yes he had lead her a merry dance gave her a little pocket money and a bag full of empty promises she had taken the breaking up bad and Joe was glad to get out and fly away. Naively for what he thought would be a cooling off period. He changed his mobile number, email account and switched off her memory off in his mind. Joe knew it was all about money and face in the LOS and the chance of getting some of it was enough to make a woman here do just about anything or so he thought!!!!!!. The final straw came when Noi refused to get involved in a 3 some for him. He would never stay again in the usual hotel complex during his trips and not frequent the places they had dined and danced. Bangkok was a big place no reason they would ever meet again plenty more little fish in the sea to catch and throw back.

Noi had taken the break up very bad. She had pinned her hopes on the empty promises Joe had told her. She already had in her mind how there house would look, names for the unborn children and a future she would not find with a Thai man. She had tried to end her life by cutting her wrists. Face had been lost in her heart.

Her brother had told her to be careful yet again he would he was a loyal police officer with 12 years of service who held great respect with all that worked with him. “Thai help Thai” he whispered to her and he promised Noi as she lay recovering in hospital that her pain would be appeased. And so the network of Thai helping Thai began.

To Boo it was a chance to make someone who could influence his life happy. He did not care he held no compassion it was no different to him as killing a lame dog.

He had done the standard shooting on the back of a motorbike 2 times but it gave him no rush of adrenaline and he had been involved in many punishment beatings, 3 so far on a Farang he liked those one’s the best and had gone that little extra distance with these beatings to please his paymaster and keepers.

The instructions to Boo for this job were clear simple and without doubt.

Tam hai mun jeb lae jum jon wan tai

“Mark him for life so he never forgets the pain he has caused”.

When Boo was shown the picture of the smiling Farang he knew what method he would choose and the work he would do. Boo had long used a cut throat razor on the dogs throats in Sakhon Nakhon and kept it with him as a cherished prize although old it was still very sharp. To its sharpened edge he now had instructed street side mechanic to weld a second blade some 4mm parallel to the first.

Boo knew that when he made the slash that the skin in between the two blades would never be able to be sewn together and heal correctly, the scars would be life long and deep.

Information had been given to Boo and his driver for the night on where Joe would likely be and Joe was followed from him leaving the hotel named on his immigration card by 2 young Thai boys to ensure this.

Boo worked with a scooter driver for getaway that night. They spotted Joe sitting in the bar exactly where they had been told he would be making small talk with the bar girl. Farang always are so predictable such creatures of habit. They waited patiently for 2 hours for him to drink up and leave.

Boo followed from a safe distance as Joe took the short cut through the car park towards Nana walking quicker now Boo silently approaches Joe and hits him hard on the back of the head with clenched fist just a few inches up from the neck Joe’s brain is lurched forward and he already unconscious as he hits the ground for safely of not getting “bitten” Boo kicks him hard in the head on the way down, as he had done so many times with the dogs in Sakhon Nakhon.

Boo quickly takes out the cut throat razor and holds Joe by his hair and cuts once from the corner of Joe’s mouth to his ear then turns his head and makes a second slash on the other side. Mounts the back of the Scooter and makes his way into the night total time 30 seconds from punch to the head.

Many people have seen this but combined with a slight lack of trying police cannot find any hard witnesses.

Joe is fortunate he is taken to a good hospital and also has health insurance, but the doctors find it impossible to stitch up with any hope of saving the 4mm of worm like skin. The scarring is deep and angry looking and for life.

Some 7 days later Joe is able to fly out of the Kingdom still traumatized and stands in line in passport control ‘You take bandage off look into camera sir’ says the young immigration officer. Joe knows he has no choice and has to remove his bandage to show a stitched in deep and angry smile he will never loose. The immigration officer duty bound compares it to the picture of Joe on arrival same same he thinks to himself and stamps his passport quickly and without question.

Stickman's thoughts:

Hmmmm.