The Chronicles of Foster Foskin’s Adventures in Thailand #14
Stone the crows! We’re back in Pattaya no more than ten minutes and we’re attacked by a bunch of Neanderthal shielas in Soi Post Office outside a coupla BJ bars. We finally made it safely to our hotel on beach road, dropped
out gear in our rooms, and headed for the poolside to hoist a few tinnies.
Nok, Bluey, Dana and me settled into the comfortable loungers and relaxed. We’d had a grim couple of days up in Bangkok. What, with Bluey gettin’ tossed out of the Eden, all of us gettin’ drugged, and then fleein’
down to Pattaya again in a decrepit taxi that broke down three times on the way, we were all pretty knackered.
I was oglin’ the shielas around the swimmin’ pool when Dana awakened from me carnal reveries.
“Foster, have you ever been married?”
“Yeah, Dana, I been married a coupla times.”
“What happened? Why did you get divorced?”
“Well, you know what it’s like. Everythin’s hunky dory at first, but then after the kids come along things start ter slide, an’ before yer know it yer wake up one mornin’ and ask yerself ‘Why?’
The wife never stops naggin’ yer. She’s always too bloody tired for a bit of fun in the sack. And anyway, she’s let ‘erself go so bad yer couldn’t get it up if yer tried. D’ya know why divorce is so expensive,
Dana?”
“Sure, because the law sides with the women.”
“Nah!” I said, “It’s expensive because it’s worth it.”
Just then, me phone rang. “H-h-h-ello, Foreskin. Is that you?”
Oh crikey! It was the professor again. “G’day Prof. What’s up?”
“I say old chap, I seem to be in a spot of bother again. D’you think you could possibly help me out?”
This was gettin’ ter be a habit with ‘im, but I couldn’t leave the poor old bugger in the lurch, could I? No tellin’ what might happen. “What’s the problem then Prof?”
“Well, I’m calling from Cambodia, y’see, and I have only just managed to escape from some long haired genocidal twats.”
“Er, yer mean yer were caught up in some shiela’s hairy genitals?” I asked.
“No, no, no, old chap. I mean I was mistaken for the French ambassador to Cambodia and I was kidnapped by a bunch of long-haired Rouge Khmer.”
I knew the old bugger was tryin’ it on. There isn’t no bloody Khmer Rouge anymore, so I told ‘im, “Prof, yer ‘avin me on! Get yer tweedy arse down ‘ere to Pattaya asap so that we can get ready fer
the golf tournament. We’re all down ‘ere lolling’ around the pool tryin’ ter figure out how ter get organized. With yer own abilities thrown in I’m sure we’ll get it orf the ground soon.”
“What! You mean to say you have been using it so much it’s actually dragging on the ground now?”
“Er, Prof, I dunno what yer talkin’ about. But whaddaya say? Can yer get down ‘ere toot sweet?”
“Oh, please Foreskin, if you promise not to speak French to me ever again I will come forthwith.”
“Prof. I don’t care how many times yer come. Get orf them bloody shielas, get yer grundies back on, and slip down ‘ere faster than a bloody dunny rat up a drainpipe. We’ll make sure yer don’t ‘ave
any more trouble with them bastards after yer get ‘ere.”
“All I need, Foreskin, is directions to wherever you are so that I may seek refuge from the madmen chasing me all over the dashed countryside.” I gave him directions to the hotel and we hung up.
Bluey lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “That was the bloody Prof again. Looks like ‘es in more trouble than Flash Gordon, so I told ‘im ter come and join us so we can plan the tournament. He’ll be here soon, I reckon.”
Then I looked hard at Bluey. There was something wrong with ‘im. I couldn’t quite put me finger on it at first. Then I looked at his hands. They were empty!
“Where’s yer beer mate?” I asked.
“I’ve decided ter dry out a bit Fos. Me run in with that bloody Frog at the Eden has really got me worried. They was all over me. That would never have happened if I was sober. Maybe it’s time ter cut back and get me
‘ead tergether. Anyway, with all the work we’re about to embark on, I reckon a clear head will come in handy, eh mate?”
Well! The 'old battler still ‘ad it in ‘im ter surprise me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Bluey sober. This would be interestin’.
Nok woke up from ‘er snooze, looked around blearily and called a waiter over to order some food. I dunno ‘ow these Thai shielas do it. They stash the food in all day long and still look beaut.
“C’mon yer lazy bludgers,” I told Dana and Bluey, “it’s time ter get this bloody golf tournament orf the ground. I reckon the first order of business is to find a bunch of shielas to make the place look
good and carry the players if they imbibe too much amber encouragement.” Dana and Bluey nodded their noggins like a coupla bloody dashboard dolls.
“Yeah, good idea mate.” Bluey piped up. “I’ve been meanin’ ter check out the shielas down ‘ere again. Maybe I’ll get lucky like you and score a keeper.”
Well, if old Bluey was dryin’ out there might be some hope ‘ed find someone after all. Only one way ter find out. We waited fer Nok ter finish her noshin’ and then we all trooped up the road ter the nearest beer bars.
It was already dark, so there should be plenty of shielas around this early.
Cripes! No matter where yer go in Pattaya there’s a bloody beer bar. We ensconced ourselves at one with lots of pretty girls and Dana went into his recruiting spiel. We wanted ter hire at least 50 girls fer the day, so we’d
have to do some serious drinkin’ before we found ‘em all. It wasn’t goin’ ter be easy though. We ran into trouble straight away at the first place. Dana started the ball rollin’, “Mamasan, I want to take
all your girls out of the bar for one day. Can we negotiate a price?”
“What for you want all my girls? You think you big man? Maybe you go look inna mirror little man. You so short you have to stand on toes to eat my pussy!” She cackled like a bloody galah at her own wit.
Ooops! Yer never make fun of a short man’s height, or ‘e really will get on ‘is bloody high horse. Dana slammed ‘is beer down on the counter, threw a red note at the old bag, and marched orf up the road fumin’.
We all downed our own beers as fast as we could and scrambled after him.
“Hey! Calm down me old mate.” I said as I caught up to him. “The old bag was just ‘avin’ a go at yer. She didn’t mean it, mate.”
But ‘e wasn’t havin’ it at all. He started swingin’ his arms all over the place while ‘e ranted on about the bloody stupid old moll. The next thing ya know ‘es swamped with bloody shielas. I mean
they came racin’ at ‘im from everywhere!
I couldn’t figure it out. Was ‘e wearin’ that bloody Axe deodorant I’d seen advertised on the telly? They was all over ‘im like a bunch of flies at an Eyetie weddin’. Do yer know why they always put
a can of garbage near the front pew at an Italian weddin’? I keeps the flies away from the bride.
But Dana is a real trooper and he started negotiatin’ with all the shielas. Pretty soon prices were agreed and they were all booked ter turn up fer the tournament. We moved slowly down the beach road pickin’ up more shielas
as we went. By the time we got ter Walking Street we had more than sixty shielas lined up for the tournament. We were in like Flynn.
The crowd of shielas thinned out as we went into one of the beer bar areas. Me throat was dryer than a dingo’s dong in a drought, so we ordered a round and started slurpin’ down the suds. I turned to Dana and asked, “How’d
yer get those shielas all over yer so easily? What’s yer bloody secret?”
He gave me a sly smile and told me how he had devised a semaphore system with the girls on beach road. He said after we arrived from Bangkok he was feelin’ too lazy ter walk down ter pick up shielas all the time, so he worked out a
system of hand signals and taught it to them instead. Now, all he has ter do is stand at his hotel window, wave his arms around and negotiate with the shielas for a nookie.
I understood now. When ‘e started wavin’ his arms around in anger he must ‘ave been givin’ out a whole bunch of signals to the shielas ter come and get some. Well, it worked out pretty good. We got all we wanted
signed up fer the tournament.
Bluey was lookin’ a bit antsy. He hadn’t been sober enough to really look at the action in Walking Street before. “Hey Bluey, why don’t I show yer around a bit? I think Nok would like ter see what goes on ‘ere
too, wouldn’t yer love?” I said turnin’ me biggest smile on her. She didn’t know what she was in for, but I wanted ter see how game she was. If she passed this little test I reckoned she’d be the one ter stick
with for good.
“Oh Foster (at last she’d figured out me right name), I will follow you anywhere.” She gushed.
“Well, no need ter follow me everywhere, love, but I appreciate the thought. C’mon, let’s get out of ‘ere before Dana starts swingin’ again.”
Dana gave me a wry look, but he downed his beer and we headed out ter see what mischief we could get up to. The crowd was a bit thin tonight, but there were still quite a few interesting characters around. The crippled flower seller was there
wheelin’ himself around with a huge smile on ‘is face as usual. I bought a bunch of roses from ‘im fer Nok, and we headed on down the street. The usual gaggle of katoeys was sashaying up and down trolling for unsuspecting
tourists. Cute little shielas in school girl uniform held up signs outside go-go bars, shoutin’, “Happy hour all night. Beer only 80 Baht!” Business as usual.
We hadn’t gone far when Dana pointed up a side soi. “Why don’t we see what’s up there, Fos? I’ve found going off the beaten track sometimes garners some sweet rewards.”
Well, why not? We trooped up the soi and came to an interesting lookin’ place called “What’s Up”. What attracted me eye was the pictures beside the door of shielas having a bath together. “That’s
the place fer us, I reckon mates.” And we charged in.
Talk about a skin fest. There was shielas runnin’ around all over the place stark naked, drippin’ suds all over the place. Yeah, this was fer us!
We ordered beers all round. I told the waitress ter leave it in the bottles. No tellin’ how big the head would be in a glass if some of these shielas started sheddin’ suds.
Nok sat down with eyes as wide as saucers. She’d obviously never seen anythin’ like it before. There were a couple of baths sunk into the floor, showers in the corners. Shielas were hunkered down in the baths cleanin’
and scrubbin’ each other in huge swirls of suds. Nok turned around towards the bar and was confronted by a suds covered shiela squattin’ down in front of her. “You like clean me?” she asked. Nok was a bit reluctant
at first, but she took the proffered sponge and started dabbin’ the shiela’s legs.
The shiela stood up, turned her back on us, and then bent down with legs wide apart. “You clean everything, ok?” she said lookin’ at us upside down between her legs. Well, Nok wasn’t too sure about that, so I took
‘er hand and helped ‘er move up the legs to the sweet spot. We gave it a good old polish and then scrubbed the other leg clean too.
The next thing I know she’s gettin’ all excited! She undoes me fly, fumbles around for a few seconds, and then brings old Percy out. She grabs hold of him and starts gently swabbin’ him clean. Strewth, this is a turn
up fer the books! What fun.
Bluey had snagged a real good lookin’ shiela and he was doin’ the ablutions for her. He only had a small piece of soap, but ‘e managed ter hold onto it while he cleaned up the shiela’s center stage. Meanwhile,
I had ter stop Nok. She was really gettin’ into the game, givin’ old Percy the best wash ‘es had in ages. One of the girls in the bar came over and started rubbin’ herself all over Nok, leavin’ wet trails down
‘er white jeans. Whooee! What a turn on.
We stayed there for a couple of beers, but Dana wasn’t lookin’ too happy. He hadn’t snagged a shiela yet. I suppose the blue polka dot silk shirt, the dinky red floppy bow tie, green braces, and tight purple moleskin
trousers had the shielas thinkin’ he leaned in another direction. If only they knew. The old cocksman was single minded when it came to his pussy.
“Hey Dana!” I shouted through the music. “Do yer want ter go somewhere else?”
He nodded and signaled for the bill. He might not have been enjoyin’ himself but at least he was generous enough to take care of the whole tab. I was beginnin’ ter like him more.
We staggered out of the bar and started walking back the way we’d come. I spotted a really beautiful white woman walkin’ towards us. That was a rare sight. Just then a big gorilla walked up and took her arm. Russian, I thought
to meself. The bloke was built like a brick shithouse, no neck, and hair cut about one eighth of an inch all over his skull. Tattoos squirmed down his arms. Yer can’t miss these blokes. He had ter be Russian mafia. How else would he pull
a stunning shiela like that?
We were opposite the Marine Disco when Dana perked up. “Let’s go over there, Foster. Looks like there’s a lot of ‘beaut shielas’ hanging around beside the escalator.”
“Jenny Star Bar” the sign said over the door. I hoped there were a few stars in there for Dana and Bluey. They both looked like they could do with some TLC tonight.
Willing hands grabbed hold of us as we approached, and a bunch of beautiful shielas led us into the dark confines. The bloody place was a bit dim, but we sidled up to the bar where we could at least see the label on the beers we ordered.
Bluey looked like ‘ed just won the lottery. Three tall angels were feedin’ him beer and pattin’ him down to make sure all his bits were in place. Dana only managed ter sit down long enough ter grab his beer when four
stunners dragged him up the back to a dark alcove with a comfortable lookin’ lounge. The last I saw of him he was sprawled out on his back covered in writhing flesh. His legs were kickin’ up in the air and we heard a loud squeal.
“Nice to see Dana havin’ some fun.” I said to Nok. “And Bluey is about ter go down fer the count too. Or maybe one of the shielas is goin’ down on him. What say we move over to that comfortable lookin’
lounge chair and enjoy our beers, eh?” She nodded and we got up and snuggled in close once we sat down. I was definitely gonna keep this one.
The squeals from the back were gettin’ louder, and Dana’s feet were jerkin’ up and down like a puppet on a string. I looked down the back. Strewth! He was havin’ a good time.
Then suddenly one of his shielas flies backwards. He was strugglin’ ter stand up, pushin’ the shielas away as he got to ‘is feet. “Are yer alright, mate?” I asked.
“These are trannies Foster. They used to have dicks!” he cried.
I looked at Bluey, who had bolted up straight, his eyes bulging from his head. One trannie was still attached to his groin. It wouldn’t do ter get ‘er upset until ‘e disengaged himself. He pushed gently at the head and
finally the trannie let go and looked up.
I yelled out, “No Bluey!” But it was too late. Bluey swung a beauty that cracked hard on the cocksucker’s jaw and laid I’m out fer the count. The fight was on. I grabbed Nok and hurried ‘er outside first.
“You wait ‘ere love, I’ll be out in a minute.”
I plunged back into the bar and pushed me way through the throbbin’ crowd, and I mean throbbin’ There was bloody cocks hangin’ out everywhere. Not all of the trannies had been to silicon heaven yet, despite the wide range
of big knockers.
I managed ter grab hold of Dana as he crawled through the legs of the angry milling shims. I gave him a good shove and he hurtled out the door.
Next, I reached through the windmilling fists and deflected a roundhouse headed fer Bluey’s head just in time. He lowered his head and with a wild yell charged at the blockading bodies. They fell all over the place and Bluey and me
made a beeline for the door. We got out just in time. The cops were on their way in. Nok had called them. Bluey and me tried to look innocent as we passed. As soon as the cops went inside we hightailed it up the street and kept right on goin’.
No way did we want any more trouble.
We slowed down as we neared the police box at the mouth of Walking Street and sauntered casually past the Marine beer bars towards the beach promenade. Dana was a mess. His bow tie was hangin’ down, his braces were floppin’
around his knees, and suspicious lookin’ stains marred ‘is moleskins from knee to groin. I didn’t even want to think about what caused them.
As we strolled beside the beach shielas kept calling out, “Hello hansum man. I go with you?” Both me mates soon got the look. You know. Man on a mission. So Nok and me hung back a bit ter give ‘em room. We’d gone
about 500 yards when these two beaut lookin’ shielas caught their eye. Got mine too. They were real cute. I reckoned they were twins from the look of it. Both dressed the same, both had short black hair, brown eyes…well yer get the
picture. They were Asian twins. How else can you describe them?
The boys hung around chattin’ to the twins fer about five minutes while Nok and me sat on the sea wall takin’ in the scenery. What a place! Wall-ter-wall shielas bein’ hunted by blokes of all shapes, ages, and sizes.
There was even a couple of blokes in wheel chairs being wheeled around by the most accommodatin’ nurses yer’ll ever meet. One thing’s fer sure. Youse’ll never die of boredom in Pattaya.
Finally, the boys had come to an arrangement with the twins and we all jumped into a Baht bus to head back to the hotel. Before we went to our rooms I reminded them that we still had some work ter do tomorrow. We had ter find a printer to
make a bunch of posters, forms, and flyers. Then we had ter go to the Phoenix and make arrangements fer refreshments, caddies, carts, and a registration table for the players. But the boys weren’t too interested. I reckon Dana pole vaulted
up the stairs to ‘is room. His twin was gonna get it all night, that was fer sure. Just as well the Professor wasn’t here. Him and Dana might have got into a pissing contest ter see who could stay rampant the longest. Knowin’
the Professor, I reckon he woulda won.
———————————————
Next, the preparations take a few twists and turns, but everything is in place for the great game at last.
© Copyright 2007 by the author.
Struggling with the Australian slang? We call it Strine. Go here to find out what it all means:
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Stickman's thoughts:
Thoroughly enjoyable series.
