Somewhere On My Way

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SOMEWHERE. ON MY WAY.

 

 

 

Imprint

Any brand names and product names mention in this book are subject to trademark, brand or patent protection and are trademarks or registered trademarks of their respective holders. The use of brand names, product names common names, trade names, product descriptions etc. even without a particular marking in this work is in no way to be construed to mean that such names may be regarded as unrestricted in respect of trademark and brand protection legislation and could thus be used by anyone

Cover image : A. Schnieden

Printed at : see last page

ISBN : 9781794576773

Copyright @ Anongnart Nirathnaparpai. Schnieden

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere. On my way. Copyright 2018 by

Anongnart Nirathnaparpai Schnieden

Aschnieden.historyofart@gmail.com

 

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without writing permission except reviews

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Design by Anongnart N. Schnieden

**********************

Editor. Beth Mc. Auley

www.theeditingco.com

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A miracle doesn’t happen in contradiction to nature, but in

contradiction to that which is known to us as nature

Ian Wilson

 

 

 

 

CAUTION! PG 18. Parents strongly caution

 

 

 

I wanted to start with “ Dear Reader ” but didn’t actually know… how or my book is going to be… “ The Sound of Silence, version 1964! “

Well, there are so many possibilities could happen, to my book or….my readers.

 

 

This book is a fiction, based on two eyes and many good brains….. It is about thinking …. And understanding. Hopefully, it causes my readers to the state of finding something funny, but beware!!! If you are religious, traditional or … both? You might have a myocardial infarction…during…hmmm reading- time!!! My editor said,

 

“I think your story is being told in such a creative way and in a style that represents who you are and all that you’ve experienced. I have to say I very much enjoy your sense of wit and humour. I LOL quite often!” Beth Mc. Auley

 

So again, hopefully, this is a good book for reading…not burning. My groupies said, “If anyone wants to get dizzy, migraine and eventually passed out, this book is the right book to read!“ Oh…that was why they walked funny every time after they finished talking to me.

 

 

 

Finally, for good people I had met all over this earth, which were kindhearted to me during my trips…footing…

 

 

 

 

 

THANK YOU GUYS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SOMEWHERE. ON MY WAY.

 

 

 

 

 

Formative Adolescence

 

 

If I could actually know the meaning of human and life, it would be elementary for me to figure out what the fuck is going on. And then it would be easier for me to be a human, but it is not that simple…is it?

 

 

I could not remember my earlier life or the day I was born until I was 5, and all I could remember then was that I was in a small wooden house. It was not like teak wood or oak wood, it was unidentifiable wood! The roof of the house and the floor leaned to one side. Imagine a very old barn that had not been used for 30 years and that was what the house looked like.

 

 

Although, I thought it was beautiful architecture and how amazing the house was, the house did not have any walls or doors, only a few stairs to get into the house, where we cooked, ate and slept, all in the same area. From one point of view, I thought how nice it was that I could see outside at all time, very cool. Moreover, when the rainy days came, I could see a lot of little harmful microorganisms come out from the cracks in the wood floor or the wood poles, which were causing difficulty supporting the roof. It was amusing when those bugs were flying over my head; it was marvelous. The house held 4 people and never had any kind of break down during my stay. I cannot say…what could possibly have happened after I left, however. I called it “The Fallen Roof House.”

 

 

 

The 4 people were a husband, who was about 45 years old and looked pretty drunk all the time! A 60-year-old wife who had a lot of nasty words and a lot of hiding places for money! A daughter who was about 13 years old, she was black and…fat. It was a genetic matter! The last was me, 5 years old, thin and bony, and pale as milk. Therefore, my appearance told me that those people were not my origins, not associated with my deoxyribonucleic acid.

 

 

There was once upon a time that I had a visitor who came to visit me every time a dog smiled … not sure how long does it take? So that I called her “Once upon a time visitor!” The visit went fast, no time to lose! I was not spectacularly excited because I was not sure who the hell she was! Well, I was 5 and lived in The Fallen Roof House with extremely hideous faces that haunted me…for so many years. I was not sure what the hell I should have been excited about.

 

 

When I was between 5 and 6, I started to understand a lot of hmmm…shit that was all around me. For example, when the once upon a time visitor came, I learnt that she was my mother and I could hear her telling the wife about money for my food, yet all I ate were eggs and noodle packages!

 

 

Sometimes, I heard the husband talk to the wife about the daughter’s homework, something she could not read. Blimey, no one in the house could, including me…shit. I was wondering to myself, why I could not read the bloody book! Was it because I was only 5, or was it because I was sleeping on a leaning wood floor? So, I was concerned about my brain!

 

 

 

Was it bending to one side? Ah. That was why I could not read! So, I shook my head every morning, hoping that my brain went equally to the other side of my skull so that one day, I could possibly read. Turns out it had nothing to do with the floor, only everything to do with a baby pig’s head!

 

 

According to my meal, I had come with a plan, which possibly got me better food. Around The Fallen Roof House were ducks, chickens and something…I was not sure if I could call it a “pond,” but possibly! Manifestly, the water was blackish and I did not know how deep it would be because all I could see was just a half a centimeter, after that, I had to use my skillful imagination. It was doubtful what should have been under the half a centimeter, but I never dared to find out! Even so, the ducks seemed to love swimming there and the eggs, which I ate at every meal, were from the chickens and the ducks at the blackish pond…evidently. I did not concern myself about whether it was safe or healthy at the time; all I was concerned about was, “Am I going to make my way through my age of 5?”

 

 

Like every 5-year-old child, all I had been doing was playing while The Fallen Roof House people were out…all day. This would be against the law if I was born in Europe, Australia or North America, but I was not, so I was allowed to be alone with the chickens, the ducks and the blackish pond, and if I had gone missing, I do not think anyone could possibly find me! Perplexingly, I had no idea where my food money was, but I needed food that could possibly take me through my age of 5; therefore, I got an illuminative plan.

 

 

 

I was looking at the ducks and the chickens, thinking of a better meal. Well, in order to get better food, I had to kill the ducks and the chickens, but killing animals would have been an inappropriate action for a child. Besides, I had mercy on them and it was not their fault! So, next morning and after I had thought of an idea, I got up before the others and performed abortions continually, through the next day and the days after. A few days passed, there were no eggs. The investigation was initiated, but no one found any eggs or shells. I sat there, watching and thinking, how useful the blackish pond was… hmmm, for the termination and, more importantly, that day, I knew what was under the half a centimeter…awesome, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life…feeling the uncertainty!

 

Finally, after my brilliant plan was affected, the meals had changed; they were much better than eggs and noodle packages and, oh, there were still no eggs.

 

To the end of my year 5, the once upon a time visitor came and announced that my stay in the Fallen Roof House had come to…the end and I needed to call her mother, not visitor…Oh! I had two options: do not call her “Mother” or call her “Mother” and get the hell out of the house. Well, I had no idea who the hell she was, and how she became my mother. I was confused because all my life until my age of 6, the only faces that haunted me were the Fallen Roof House people. Even though, they did not seem to care for me but treated me like their baby pig, they had not brutally treated me, either.

 

It was a substantial decision for a 6-year-old child, wasn’t it? While the fallen roof house people and the one upon a time visitor were discussing money and my stuff, I was feeling sorrow…? I did not know why, maybe I was just a child or maybe I was worried about the eggs, and when I thought about the eggs, I tended to be anxious, shit! “Would they come after me later?” In that moment, I took my chances with the one called mother.

 

 

 

Regarding my stuff, there were a few marvelous dirty coloured clothing inside a marvelously dirty coloured bag; I was so proud of it though!

 

A small dirt road from the Fallen Roof House was not far from the main street; I could see people walking in the distance, some people carried BBQ fish, pork, beef, or candy for sale, it was…so cool. Actually, I had never been anywhere, except the Fallen Roof House, therefore I felt like…Jack And The Giant Beanstalk, a story that the baby pig told me over and over!

 

When we were waiting for a particular bus, I was watching people, walking up and down on the street. I was enjoying a moment of my adventure; suddenly an unexpected scene was constructed. The mother pulled my marvelous bag away and dumped it into a garbage tank nearby. I felt disturbed, resulting from this upsetting event; however, when I looked at the mother and found that she was looking at me…too, her eyes were the same expression as when she dumped my bag. I was afraid she might dump me in the same place as my bag… never mind the bag! She did not dump me…yet, but in that moment I was thinking, I had been adopted or sold!

 

After another bus, finally, we reached Bangkok, the capital city of Thailand; where the population was 15 million people, living in 1,568.7 square kilometers (605.7 sq. mi).

 

We were walking on a sidewalk where there were shops and peddling people who carried large or small baskets, selling everything that they could possibly carry. Dry food, wet food, cooking food, kids’ toys, earings, and small furniture! Along the sidewalk were drains where everything seemed to flow in, such as rotten food, rotten vegetable, fish heads, and kids’ toys! Everything that people could not sell in a day or two went into the drains as well! I had no doubt about the smell; it was a redolent scent and if I needed to get myself vomiting for some reason, there was a good place to start! Walking for a while, the sidewalk was getting cleaner and I thought, “Finally, we are close to civilization.” Light bulbs from the streets and shops were becoming illuminated, I was stunned, one by one

 

 

 

they lit up, and eventually all the bloody streets and shops were bright and shiny. “Wow, I wondered what Jack would say about my adventure?”

 

We stopped at some children’s clothing store, just about at the end of the sidewalk; the mother was looking for some clothes…for me. Mine had been dumped at the bus station, so this was an appropriated action of hers! I was looking at the clothes; they were very pretty and colourful. At the corner of the shop, there were all kinds of skirts; I had never had a skirt before, I saw it once in some papers, so I was hoping that the mother would have picked one or two.

 

A moment of excitement had come; I watched the mother pick some clothes, suddenly, it felt like…when you have a lotto ticket in your hand, listening to the lotto’s radio station, announcing your first few numbers of a big win, your eyes are getting wider and the next minutes of your life, you would say “yessssss” or “fuckkkkkk!” Well, mine was fuck!

 

That day was the first time I was in the mother’s house; the house was a 4storey business building. The first floor was her beauty shop where she worked; the second floor was a skin care section, looked like beauty and spa this day. The third floor was for stock; and the last floor was our apartment. It was also the first time I had a bed, and it was the first time I found out I had a brother, brilliant!

 

Everyone had his or hers a moment of a first time. I was so lucky, I had so many moments of a first time in one damn day. A brother…wow, I could not imagine! What an astonishment! Well, he was lucky because he was going to be in….a character!

 

Sometime after I knew the brother, I was thinking about the definition of being a piggy and a bony, somehow it was implicated with cultures. The Chinese’s culture is extraordinarily characteristic between boys and girls. The Chinese utterly believe if a family is given a first child as a boy, it means abundance, efficacy, and fortune. The first boy is birthed upon a spirit of a dragon, especially if that year is the year of the dragon.

 

 

 

Even though, all boys who are not the first child or birthed in the dragon year, they still mean good fortune…Wow. After listening to that…shit…I was thinking, “I'm absolutely fucked!”"

 

Blimey, the brother was born in the dragon’s year so…cool! And moreover, an old lady who was supposed to be my grandmother said, “Having a son is a blessing! Having a daughter is like…having a toilet at the front porch.” Well, I was sure she had a penis under her pretty skirt…wasn’t it?!! So, I was a toilet and the brother was a dragon, but I was not sure what the fuck was the grandmother? Bitch??

 

According to Chinese mythological symbolism: way long and long ago in 3000 BC, the dragons were believed to ward off evil spirits. In the ancient day, dragons were regarded as the most sacred animal, and used to be the imperial emblem of Chinese emperors. It is the first of the four Divine Creatures to the Chinese. The others were the unicorn, the phoenix, and the tortoise. The powerful yet gentle “Long” that brings rain to the earth, hastens the crops and the toiling framer, and also represents the Yin dynasties, which mean happiness and heaven. The dragons’ symbolic meaning based on their colours, were often red, gold, turquoise, or white. The turquoise dragon was the symbol of the emperor, the East, the rising sun, and the rain as well, but the white dragon on the other hand stood for the West and the…no longer alive!!

 

I was sure the brother was a white dragon!

 

 

As we were children, the brother always had prohibited experiments. He took me out, in order to show me a specific tree, called Toi-Tring. It is a small tree, and produces small black seeds. The seeds can explode by any kind of wet and they feature little tiny brown kernels after the explosion.

 

“If you want to be a good sister, put it in your mouth and suck. Don’t swallow it. It tastes very good. Trust me!” The brother.

 

 

 

Another incident was back in 1974; most people in my country had black-and-white televisions, except some rich bitch might have had a coloured one. The television companies were excessively developing better options, such as hole-link-earphone, in case someone wanted to listen alone. Furthermore, the bloody hole-link-earphone was pricey; it must have had a good sound, according to our neighbours! I had never thought anyone would watch television with…an earphone…looked obviously odd! However, the brother was curious, particularly about the mother’s television and the earphone holes. He was concerned if one hole could cause an electric shock or, in fact, if it needed both holes to produce an electric shock that…suddenly acute medical attention! How could he know for sure? Well, making an experiment is a scientific procedure undertaken to make a discovery, so he gave me a tiny little old wire and said,

 

“If you want to be a good sister, put it in this hole.” The brother.

 

 

So, I did exactly what he said with my no-safety glove…hand and my other hand was…on one of his legs…Oops! The result of his experiment was definitely an electric shock! Oh, how did I survive to this day? It was the mother’s high-heels that kicked off the white dragon, the old wire and me apart! Later on, there were so many experiments that he had made, such as putting lemon juice into my eyes while I was sleeping, or fart on my face while I was eating …nice white dragon!

 

Let’s get back to piggy and bony, the brother was handsome, short, and loved eating, and because he was a white 14-year-old dragon, he had a lot of acne on his face; it made him a perfect handsome and he was allowed to eat…anything! Once, our neighbour gave the mother a compliment about my bones, he said that I should have been in a model of anatomy for medical students! The mother was furious about the compliment with an anxious feeling, she went to talk to a local pharmacist, asking what he could do. He gave her some vitamins, which were supposed to be for my nutrition and the taste was unbelievably delicious, so as fast as I put them in my mouth, the faster they came out!

 

 

 

In general, all vitamins are colourful in order to deceive all children and, of course, some adults! All medications seem to be more and more colourful these days and I cannot wait for the black one! I thought how thoughtful of chemistry scientists, especially the blue pill which were Valium and other sleeping drugs; according to artists, blue colour means calm, cool, and emotionally peaceful…good for a checkout…like…see you on the other side!

 

Although, the concept of colourful pills is a wonderful idea, but I am not quite certain what the hell is happening with the taste? I was sitting in the mother’s kitchen, pitiful, miserable, suffering, sorrowful, whatever, because I had been commanded to take the vitamins until they were gone, and that would be 14 days! The commander (the mother) said,

 

“Take it! Or I’ll shove it into your mouth.” The mother.

 

 

While I was in the mood, which I could not describe how sad I was, the white…fat dragon walked in and he asked me,

 

“What is the matter?” The brother.

 

 

So, I told him about the vitamins and the order of the commander, but I did not mention about…the taste. Next thing I knew, 2 of 400 ml liquid, which were orange and purple colours, had vanished from the bottles into a natural oily mouth like in a blink of an eye and, in that moment, I thanked God for sending me a fat angel when I needed it the most!

 

Two weeks later, I did not hear any kind of question from the mother and she did not bring more of those shitty vitamins, so think in a good way…I was getting fat!

 

A month later, I was shipped to a private school.

 

 

 

Back in 1974, Catholic churches organized most of the private schools in Thailand and, so a private school, where the mother shipped me! It was on a river with a long large brick fence…with some holes cut into the bottom. There were two, 9-storey buildings, facing each other with a basketball field in between them. My eyes were popping out like some cartoon character when they are in shock. I thought this was more likely Jack And The Giant Beanstalk! Also, there was a 6-storey dormitory building that stood behind one of the 9-storey buildings, but it had no elevator…lucky me, I was 6 years old, I only had to climb up to the third floor.

 

The mother and I were standing in front of one of the buildings, waiting for someone. I was thinking about where the students were? I tried to come up with some reasons, but a nun interrupted my thoughts. She introduced herself as the principal of the school, so we followed her to her office. I was getting worried about what the mother said that I had to stay in the school…But it was no pond and…what was going to happen if I was to end up with eggs and noodles? Maybe, I had to check up on the fence’s holes; they might come to be handy! While I was wondering with my thoughts, I heard some questions,

 

“Do you understand what school means, Arya?” The principal nun.

 

 

I jumped out of my thoughts, looked at the principal nun and attempted to answer her question before…

 

“Oh, she doesn’t know anything. She’s just a stupid girl.” The mother.

 

 

And that was an aggressive inappropriate manner, don’t you think? After the answer, there was…silence. I wanted to defend myself from the mockery, but at the time, defending myself seemed like a cockroach trying to defeat a shoe coming down on its body to…deform its original figure, therefore I just shut it! I did not know that the questions were important either the school would accept me or kick me out on that very day.

However, the principal nun explained to the mother and wanted to talk to me alone! Oh…

 

 

 

After the mother took her leave, I felt like my blood pressure was a force exerted on me because if they had not accepted me, not only I would have had to stay…home, but I also would have had to be the brother’s experiment doll, and I could be dead sooner! I was not sure at the moment, which way was better, have the mother here, in the room, or no. Thinking about my own intelligence, how could I possibly have any? I just came out from the underworld 2 months ago!

 

“How are you feeling, Aye?” The principal nun asked with a friendly smile.

 

 

“Oh, I’m all right ma’am. Thank you.” Me.

 

 

“How old are you?” The principal nun.

 

 

“I’m 6 ma’am.” Me.

 

 

“Do you know what school means, Aye?” The principal nun.

 

 

“I suppose so, ma’am. School means knowledge, given facts, information and skills, ma’am.” Me.

 

Her expression was astonished, caused by something unexpected, I was getting nervous, I was not sure what I had said wrong, but before I could think of anything else she said,

 

“How do you know those words? And do you know what they mean?” The principal nun.

 

 

I looked at her for a moment. I did not know which one I should answer first…why did she ask all in one question? I was 6…hello! (in my thoughts).

 

“Yes ma’am. Mr. Yong, my mother’s friend, he said I’d do well in school.” Me.

 

 

 

“I see. You shouldn’t be in school, yet. Can you read?” The principal nun.

 

 

Bummer! Funny as hell, how could I? I had a problem with reading…hello, that was why I was there! Chance of running away was not an option better shown my stupidity.

 

“No ma’am, I cannot, but I would love too.” Me.

 

 

Aha, that was better, wasn’t it? Then she said,

 

 

“Well, we’ll get your mother back here.” The principal nun.

 

 

In that moment, I was even more frightened. I might have been in a considerable amount of trouble, either the principal nun would not have me in the school or I just showed my stupidity, why was I in this situation? I was just a chick for god’s sake! When the mother got back in, the principal nun was explaining that the only chance I had was to start schooling during the summer’s break and pass all of the exams.

 

Well, that was meant immediately, as everyone was in such a hurry and if I could not pass the exams…well, everyone could have found me at a dump truck! Furthermore, the mother had a brilliant way of encouraging me, which I could not resist!

 

“You shouldn’t need to worry! Most dogs can be trained in a month and you’d be the smartest one!” The mother.

 

That was the mother’s intelligence, therefore, if I could not learn all that shit in 2 months and 16 days, I would be worse than a fucking dog. So perfect!

 

When we got back from the school, Mr. Yong was waiting for the mother, he was not just the mother’s friend, but he was also our neighbour. Mr. Yong was born and bred Vietnamese; he moved to Thailand in 1960 and he had a Thai wife, and 2 children. He was very white and pretty tall. I thought he was mixing with something that was not

 

 

 

Vietnamese, but I did not ask him. He loved drinking, but he was not a kind of a practical drunk ass, he was a friendly drunken one. I had never seen his wife or his children; some talkers said she took his children and ran away. I liked him; he was a generous and caring person, who always said,

 

“Don’t let the damn world change you! And always be good.” Mr. Yong.

 

 

I was not sure at the time what it meant, and all I knew was that he always worried about my well-being. Maybe, because he lost his children from a divorce battle, which was because there was no way that foreign-born could win that battle under Thai law. One evening, he and I were sitting in front of his house; he was telling me about what he did for a living in Vietnam, that he used to work for a hydro company.

 

I did not know what his job was in Thailand. Sometimes he came to visit in the afternoon, and other times it was late morning and he looked like he just woke up with a hangover. Anyway, while I was watching passersby, he told me how much he missed his hometown and how fun it was when he was working at the Vietnam Hydro Company. He asked me,

 

“Aye, do you know, how high that hydro pole is?” Mr. Yong.

 

 

And he pointed one of his fingers toward a hydro pole; I was looking at the destination of his finger with an effortful thought, but as I had not proved myself as a smart dog yet, my answer was what a normal child of my age would say,

 

“No, I don’t know, sir.” Me.

 

 

“Oh, that one would be about 12 meters, at least.” Mr. Yong.

 

 

“Wow, it’s very tall, Mr. Yong. How can they fix it, if something is gone wrong?” Me.

 

 

 

“Well honey, they climb up, up, up, until they reach there.” Mr. Yong.

 

 

And he pointed his finger at the top of the hydro pole.

 

 

I did not know what I said or what my reaction had expressed? It was… Obscure!

Before I had any chance to say anything, he was on the pole…up, up, up, with his bare feet and bare hands! I was in a feeling of disturbed surprise from what my eyes registered. I did not know what to do except make the instinctive expressions of lively amusement as loud as a small 6-year-old could possibly do. Next thing I knew, the mother was next to me and looked at me like the day she dumped my belongings. Then she started yelling at Mr. Yong,

 

“Come down, you stupid old man. What are you doing? You are going to get yourself killed!!” The mother.

 

But there was no answer; he just held onto the pole in an awkward position that was more like a monkey that had climbed up on something that did not feel familiar…and hmmm the irony of his silence. Later, more people came, they shouted…they yelled, but he did not move up or down. I thought he liked it there…like Spiderman…felt like home again. Momentarily, I was genuinely grateful that he just acknowledged me about…the fixing and, at the same moment, I heard him…shouting, spontaneously with my thought!

 

“Help me. I cannot move!” Mr. Yong.

 

 

Lol crap! Did I miss something? Eventually, the actual electricians came with the actual equipment, helping Mr. Yong down to the ground with a 1000 baht ticket! (Baht or THB is Thai’s currency). When all the fans were gone from watching him on the pole, Mr. Yong walked back to the front of his house and started drinking…again! I did not care that the mother who was still yelling, because in my thought was something…so exciting, well, it was not every day I saw a simple man climb a hydro pole. While I was still entertained by what had just happened, the mother turned to me with an impossible emotional expression on her face,

 

 

 

 

 

“Don’t you dare climb up there! I won’t pay for the bloody ticket, and certainly I’ll leave you there without a thought!!” The mother.

 

I wanted to say something, but when I looked at her, the impossible expression was still there so, the best option for me, was to shut up. Literally, I would have said, “Don’t worry, Ma’am, as I haven’t proved myself as the smartest dog you’re waiting to see, I’m absolutely not going to prove that I can live on the pole!”

 

After the mother walked back to her shop, Mr. Yong was still looking at the pole…thinking, I did not ask him what was he thinking because I did not want him to cause any more excitement, but then he broke the silence,

 

“Oh, Aye, don’t feel dejected. She doesn’t like to express…love. If you climb up, she probably wouldn’t leave you there.” Mr. Yong.

 

“I doubt that! I don’t know why she’s always angry…at me, unlike when she’s with the fat boy.” Me.

 

Mr. Yong was laughing, as he knew whom I had meant.

 

 

“Aye, one day you’ll understand her. One day you’ll know how much she loves you. I lost my children, never a day goes by, I don’t miss them.” Mr. Yong.

 

“Why don’t you visit them? They will be very happy!” Me.

 

 

“Oh well, it’s complicated. I wish I’d had done things differently. There is nothing I can do, besides, I don’t know where they are.” Mr. Yong.

 

Mr. Yong was tearing, unable to say anymore…. I looked at him for a moment then I looked away toward the sky. I was thinking about my own father…feeling hysterical every

 

 

 

time when I thought of him. I did not know why or how, but the feeling came since I had questions about him…in my thoughts, maybe I was still a…puppy and needed…someone to protect me…Therefore, I liked to think of him a lot and when I was alone…I looked up at the sky and hoped he was thinking of me as well.

 

The mother never talked about him, but my aunties told me that he wanted to take me with him. He begged her several times; therefore I never asked because I was scared of the impossible expression of hers, I always thought that my father was sitting somewhere, feeling…desolate and regretful and, maybe, he looked up at the sky…thinking of me.

 

When I got out of my thoughts, Mr.Yong had already fallen asleep, but I did not wake him. It was getting dark…soon stars would show themselves…brightening and I was hoping Mr. Yong’s children may have looked up too!

 

Finally, the time of my demonstration had come; the mother woke me up about 5:00 am to get ready for the school. I had to stay there for 2 months before actual classes began. I already packed all my stuff, which were 7 T-shirts, 7 pants, 7 panties, lucky 7??... a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a comb. All of it put into a small bag, which was a brown colour with a white rope around the opening, and it was better than my old one! Although I wished it was blue or yellow…oh well, never mind.

 

When we arrived, we had to wait for the principal nun because she was busy with something. An old lady at the front desk informed us that it was going to be a few minutes. After we waited for sometime, the old lady told us that the principal nun was ready; I held my bag against my chest and followed the mother to the principal’s office. She welcomed us with a light smile, so I was pleased that she was on the level with her manner of greeting.

We sat down on the chairs at her desk. She gave the mother some papers to sign and…turned to me.

 

“Arya, are you ready?” The principal nun.

 

 

 

Ah…shit, ready for what? To be the smartest dog? I thought we just got here few minutes ago, oh well, better say something…

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Me.

 

 

That was a lie, I was not ready for any kind of brilliantly intelligent thing just yet, but I did not have any better words to say!! While I was circling my thoughts, a 75-year-old nun walked in with a little girl. The principal nun looked up and said,

 

“Oh, here you are. Come here Moonlight.” The principal nun.

 

 

Moonlight was walking toward the principal nun, but her eyes were fixed, wide opened at me. I was afraid she might bang into something before she reached the principal nun; fortunately, she did not.

 

“Moonlight, this is Aye. She’s going to stay here for this summer break. And she’ll be your roommate as well.” The principal nun.

 

She was still staring at me like I was an imaginary creature that was typically ugly or anything else, what the hell! Before the principal nun said anything, she broke out from whatever the bloody hell she was thinking,

 

“Why she’s so…awful white? She looks white like a ghost. Look at her eyes, are they going to turn yellow like the dirty shit cat behind our school, Sister Waree?” Moonlight.

 

“Be polite, Moonlight, and watch your language!” The principal nun.

 

 

That was very nice of her, found a perfect answer…for me, maybe something was wrong with me and that was Moonlight’s opinion.

 

 

 

Well, I have got to say, at the time I thought she was a little bitchier than the actual…bitch.

 

Everyone was silent, the principal nun started her CT Scan of me, and that was fucking brilliant because, at the same moment, everyone including the mother was looking at me, especially the mother. Aha, was something wrong with me? Before my brain started…any…ideas, I heard something very indistinguishable.

 

“Oh yes, I haven’t noticed that before.” The mother.

 

 

That was the mother; I did not think she was in love with me, or had any kind of interest in me, and if someone had mentioned something about me to her…that would be a mistake.

 

Later on, the 75-year-old nun who was also a school keeper took me to the dormitory building. The dormitory was a white 6-storey building with no elevator, each room had 6 beds and closets that separated the beds. My room was on floor 3, and we reached floor 3 before I turned 25! She opened a closet and told me to organize my clothes and my belongings, of course, the bitch moon was there; I started unpacking my stuff, but before I had a chance to manage my things, the bitch moon said,

 

“All that is? Nothing else?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Yes, that’s all.” Me.

 

 

“I see! Well, never mind. I’d share something of mine, if you really need it.” Moonlight.

 

 

Ok, she was not such a…bitch huh! I was smiling at her when she pointed out her bed, which was next to mine…oh, there were a lot of stickers and some flowers on her closet! It was nice actually. Before I had a chance to say…something to her, the 75-year-old nun told her to let me unpack my stuff.

 

 

 

 

 

Next morning after breakfast, the same old nun took me to one of the large buildings, and each floor had 9 study rooms. I was on the first floor and, in the first room, she told me to wait for a nun who was also a teacher…during my school’s break. After a long minute, there was the teacher, I could not guess how old she was, but she was very nice and she taught me how to read!

 

“Good morning, Aye. How was your sleep for the first time that wasn’t in your home? It must be hard for you to be away from your mama! Well, don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” The teacher.

 

I wanted to say I was glad, but at that moment of…circumstances, I better just shut up. Then she said again,

 

“Don’t worry little one. We’ll have a lot of fun together.” The teacher.

 

 

Oh well, I was sure of that, and…how could a 6-year-old have some fun with an aging nun? Before I tried to say something nice, she was opening a book, which sat on a table in front of her, and then she realized I did not have anything to open, she said,

 

“Oh silly me! Here you are.” The teacher.

 

 

And she handed me a book, the first page was a picture of a hen sitting on some grass (in Thai language, the hen or chicken are pronounced the same “Ki” and the letter is Kor- Ki).

 

“Do you know, what it is?” The teacher.

 

 

Obviously, why do adult always think, kids are stupid!

 

 

“It’s a Kor-Ki, Ma’am.” Me.

 

 

 

 

 

“That’s right, little one, next.” The teacher.

 

The second page’s picture was the same hen, sitting on some grass again, the same environment, the same colours and absolutely the same size except she had three eggs beside her…lol. So, at that moment, I thought, “Now an education is getting tricky, huh!” It was a time for my smart-kit

 

“It’s Kor-Kai, Ma’am.” Me.

 

 

“That right, little one, next.” The teacher.

 

 

Then we came to pages 4 and 5, they were not the hen pictures or the bloody egg pictures, but they were a buffalo and a cow pictures. Thank goodness, I thought my education was depending on bloody chickens and eggs…again! After 2 months and 4 teachers, I proved myself…hmmm…Becoming? I became the smartest dog and I was in haaa…yahoo!

 

Time was moving fast, I learnt a lot about Moonlight, and I was surprised how many things we had in common, for example, we did not have a daddy and in that common- daddy-topic, we also had the same a spontaneous discussion of shit problems…what the hell! Before I met her, I always thought I was an undeniable force adoption! But, after I knew about Moonlight, I could not find any words to give an account. Moreover, we had the same typical-standard-attempted killer-mammy. My mother tried to kill me with…As I recall, they were sticks, a broomstick, wood hangers? And it was down on me…feeling simultaneously…on… me, but of course, how the hell can someone grab all those things…that fast! Just a feeling!

 

Moonlight’s mother, on the other hand, had a classical idea, “How to kill your child with a reasonable explanation.” She fed Moonlight with half human’s formula and half Mr.

 

 

 

Johnnie Walker Black Label, maybe she did not mean to…maybe she just tried to teach her how to drink, at an early age; that was what I told Moonlight,

 

“You’d consider you’re lucky than me. At last, if that half human’s formula, half Mr. Johnnie Walker Black Label did work, you’d have died happily.” Me.

 

“Yes, you’re right, who the hell wants to die unhappy?” Moonlight.

 

 

She laughed so much, I looked at her, instantaneously; she stopped laughing and looked back at me. I saw my face in hers and I found myself a best friend, a sister, and alive.

 

Years passed by. Moonlight and I were always 2 students that were left over for the school to feed and look after…for good reasons! Every school’s break was just us… oh, and some old nuns.

 

Moonlight’s grandmother was old, maybe…60 or more; she had to look after Moonlight’s grandfather who was shot on duty, which left him with a handicap.

Moonlight’s mother was working, but Moonlight did not know what she did. Most of the time, it was her grandmother who actually took care of her when she was a…pup, and that was why she was left at the school. I did not blame Moonlight’s grandmother, it was not her responsibility to take care of Moonlight. However Moonlight seemed…HAPPY TO BE HERE!

 

She did not seem to care, staying at the school every school’s break and it seemed like she was in a wonderland. So did I! I did not mind staying at the school all year long…We were not good kids or smart kids…no, no, not like that, we just knew that school was safer than home! One day we were at the top of a basketball stand, behind the basket! I knew it was dangerous for little kids, however, like I said, the school looked after us! On that basketball basket, there were intensive words and…intimate atmosphere, developing the intellectuality of our friendship.

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, why are we here?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Ah…coz nobody wants us home…da?” Me.

 

 

“I meant, up here! Chick’s head!” Moonlight.

 

 

“Oh, I like it here. We can see many things from here.” Me.

 

 

“Like what? Garbage on those roofs? You’re a psychopath.” Moonlight.

 

 

“I’m not. I’m a lunatic. Besides, who can I murder?” Me.

 

 

“Me!! You’re dumb-head! I’d fall down there, not gonna be pretty am I?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Who is the lunatic now…Chicken haha. Hey, why are you so happy staying in school?” Me.

 

“It’s noisy at home, can’t sleep. What about you?” Moonlight.

 

 

“It doesn’t have a relaxed atmosphere and nobody talking to me!” Me.

 

 

“We’d better get back down to the earth before this idea of hangout murders us!” Moonlight.

 

While we were making our way back down to the earth, the conversation was continued.

 

“Just the noise! You don’t want to go home to see your mammy, huh?” Me.

 

 

“Aha, she was the one who made the bloody noise…Doll’s head!” Moonlight.

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh...That was not…cool! Mine is completely opposite to yours.” Me.

 

 

“Is that so bad?? The silent?” Moonlight.

 

 

“I don’t know! I moved in with her about 3 months before she took me here. I didn’t know her. All I know, my brother and my mother are best friends, just like you and me. When they were upset with anything, my face seemed to increase their upsetting! Therefore, I got colours on my arms or legs or worse…depended on the circumstances. When it was the right circumstance, I got more than colours.” Me.

 

“Oh, I got those colours too except mine were made without the circumstances! And where the hell had you been before your mother’s house?” Moonlight.

 

“The Fallen Roof House people…just like fairy tale’s story…you know…the princess of hell! I call them the Fallen Roof House people because their house was…exceptional architecture!” Me.

 

“Hmm…What??? Anyway, we’ve each other and that’s all we need; I hope we can stay here until we can protect ourselves!” Moonlight.

 

“Ok, so do I, Moony! Until then, hopefully, we’ll still have arms or legs!” Me.

 

 

It was so peaceful until I reached…the age of 10! There are many significant- meanings of the number 10 in numerology. “Brings all sorts of new!” It supposed to bring peace and change into my life, the vibrations, the energies, the leadership and so on, in the good ways, of course. In Bible Study, the number 10 is used 242 times, the designation 10th is used 79 times. It was also viewed as a complete and perfect number. In Genesis 1, we will find the phrase “God said” 10 times, which is a testimony of his creative power, or the Passover lamp was selected on the 10th day of the 1st month or…the last great world-ruling

 

 

 

kingdom of man, under Satan is symbolized prophetically by the 10 toes in Daniel 2 and the 10 horns in Revelation 13 and 17.

 

All the ideas of 10 comforted me when the mother showed up on the last day of the final semester’s examination. I had to go back to her place. It did not feel….touching? But, I was hoping, all I had heard about the numerology and the Bible Study would have brought me some safety or any possible protection, as I strongly believed in…Big G.

 

Home sweet home, everything seemed to be the same as 4 years ago, except the fat boy, he was not a boy anymore, he was taller and bigger! Sometimes, many times, I wondered how someone could possibly eat that much! I was at the mother’s place for 2 days then I was shipped out to the grandmother’s house. I remembered what the incredulity did to me when I learnt that I had a mother and a big brother. Fantastic…I got a grandmother, 3 uncles, 2 aunts, and a cat named Silly, who was sitting in front of me and all I could think of was “How am I going to deal with all these…shits?”

 

My thoughts were loud with “Think about the 10!!” They told me that the grandma’s ankle was swollen, and she needed someone to look after her. She was complaining about why it happened or how. Well…from what I saw…with my own eyes, “Lose some fat!” She looked like a cartoon I saw on television at the school, a pink pig tried to sit on a small chair, within 30 seconds the chair was broken and the pig’s ass was on a floor…hard…extremely amusing, don’t you think? Before the complaints became overwhelming, I heard one of the uncles say,

 

“I’ll give you 5 baht every week, so you can buy some candy!” Uncle No. 1.

 

 

I did not say anything, I thought, at last, the 10 started working! Even though, I did not know how much could I possibly do for such a portly one like her, but like it or not, there I was. The job was simple and all I had to do was work as a housekeeper, washing everyone’s clothes, cleaning everything, cooking some rice soup, walking about 30 minutes to a market, buying some cooked food for the rice soup, and cleaning dishes oh…and the

 

 

 

bloody cat! I did not mind because my mind was everywhere else, I missed Moonlight, thinking she was probably alone…scared.

 

I saw a post office on the way to the market. At that time a stamp was 0.70 satangs (Thai’s currency for cents) and a letter package was 4.50 baht. I had promised Moonlight I was going to find a way to talk to her daily, but she laughed, I was not surprised; there was no computer, no cell phone, and only a home telephone, which we were not allowed to use. Honestly, I did not know what to do with my promise until I saw the post office, so the cycle of 5 baht was born.

 

We wrote to each other…actually just as promised, of course; we did not get our letter on the weekend, but we could send it by dropping it in a mailbox, so someday we got 3 letters! Moonlight had no problem finding supplies because it was just at the front of our school and her grandma always gave her some money…we were good.

 

Not so much in the letters, I told her what I was doing and what I was seeing every day walking to the market. She told me about a new cartoon that was on at 7:00 to 8:00 pm and the old nuns’ Chinese movies with stupid ghost shit between 8:00 and 9:00 pm, TV’s time! Moonlight was a lunatic scarer…like ghost problems; I blamed the bloody Chinese ghosts that the nuns liked to watch. I was thinking about Father Su who was not just the headmaster of the school, but he was also a Sunday school teacher. I remembered he said psychics, witches, and ghosts were forbidden for the Catholic members…never mind Father Su then?

 

Actually, I did mind, it was not because of the foolish Catholic out-law and I did not believe everything I had been taught, but the Chinese’s shit ghosts disturbed Moonlight’s lunatic! We were not supposed to talk about it, believe in it and we were not supposed to communicate with it, and if we talked to the ghosts, we would have opened a window for…. hell…hmmm…When I saw the nuns with the Chinese’s ghost…and for the sake of my moony, I had to ask the nuns,

 

 

 

“Sisters, don’t you think it’s against the god’s law? Father…” Me, before I was going to finish, one of the nuns said,

 

“Oh dear, it’s just entertainment.” The nuns.

 

 

“The entertainment was in the category of communication, wasn’t it?” Me.

 

 

The same nun said Shhhhh…a few minutes later, they were screaming, spontaneously I looked at Moonlight,

 

“Oh, come on! You too?? What a hopeless!! Sisters? Can you all go to hell without us with you? And you, Moony, this is…psychiatric!” Me.

 

“I’m fucking afraid of ghosts, any ghosts!!” Moonlight.

 

 

“Oh…Ok, I guess, you’re a sociopath scarer!!!” Me.

 

 

That what I was minding about, the nuns did not only break the law…of the god and scared Moonlight, but they also shared their sins with us! It was good to share the ability of super sound, but they should have shared something cheerful…Nuns! So, when I was pulled out from the school, all I could think of was “The lunatic scarer is probably scared to death!”

 

I did not understand at the time why most girls in my class were scared of bugs, snakes, worms, and birds. And some were even scared of butterflies…seriously, I thought it was silly except the snakes well…they bite; I was not scared of all those things or blood or dead bodies, the only thing I was scared of…I was not going to make it through my childhood.

 

The last two weeks before the next semester, my lucky number 10 was run off. It was supposed to expire next year before my 11 birthdays, according to a nun who told me about

 

 

 

the super…lucky 10! While I was washing everyone’s clothes, thinking of how good it was that I managed to keep my legs and arms safe, but…there she was, the angel of death!

 

“Stop doing that, and come inside now!” The mother.

 

 

I walked in! Oh my, everyone was there, and I could almost smell… death!

 

 

“Where is the money?” The mother.

 

 

“What money!” Me.

 

 

“The money you took.” The mother.

 

 

“I did not.” Me.

 

 

“Don’t fucking lie to me! You’re an only kid here. Who else would do this?” The mother.

 

 

“I Did Not!” Me.

 

 

Before I could think of my next defense policy, she grabbed one of my arms strenuously; I was spinning to the floor.

 

“Grandmother’s money is missing. You tell me or I will beat you.” The mother.

 

 

Contemporaneously, I could feel her hand, drowning in my back…solid, firm whatever, I thought the word “will” meant later, but there was no later. I heard the grandmother say, “Harder” and the next thing I knew…there were hands, sticks, broomstick, the rest of…I did not know what it was. Every time I opened my eyes, the objects were different colours, and so was my body! When it was over, I was…. temporarily a snake! As soon as I could walk, the mother shipped me back to the school; my body was colourful, fresh and shiny as a daisy.

 

 

 

 

 

When I walked into my dormitory, the 75-year-old nun, the housekeeper, and Moonlight were watching TV. But, the cause of my…surfacing turned everyone’s eyes from one of the Chinese uncomprehensive movies…To Me! (I personally did not like the shit movies, parents, lovers, or children were killing each other, or dramatically fighting! They also could fly, fast and strong without being a vampire, based on a fact of physic and anatomy research. They thought they could even run on water!!) As soon as my body appeared inside the room, it seemed like no one cared about running on the water anymore!

 

“Oh my, did you fall down…(looking)…the stairways, perhaps?” The 75-year-old nun.

 

 

Instantaneously, inside my little head was illuminated, I thought it was a good idea; I was worried when I had to show…me to the class! And what I was going to tell them; my mother beat me is not a fairy tale for children? Hell No! For whatever reasons at the time, I did not understand and all I knew was “Shut your mouth, don’t tell everyone that is not your friend.” So, the falling down the stairway idea was quite realistic!!

 

“Yes, Ma’am. It’s a long stairway!” Me.

 

 

“Looks like you’ve been beaten.” The housekeeper.

 

 

“Oh no, it was definitely a stairway!” Me.

 

 

“Come on, let’s go up and put your stuff away.” Moonlight.

 

 

We left the room, Moonlight stopped and looked at me again, we did not say much because she knew we were swimming in the same bowl and there was no need for the stairway story. We did not talk…for a few days; only I told her that I did not want to tell anyone. I was worried about the outcome of the truth, and being a lonely unhappy child was not a good outcome either.

 

 

 

 

 

As soon as the school opened, my stairway story became…most famous?... although, I did not think I fooled my teachers, but I was glad that I was smart. The adults did not say anything or do anything…I was so relieved. I did not want to be sent away or worse! Thai’s government did not like…kids much!...never mind the stairway.

 

Two months later, my scars outside were healed and inside was…covered, I was sitting under a tree, talking with Moonlight, enjoying a peaceful moment and…chocolate- chip cookie. We heard the school’s speakers yelling my name, “Arya, Aye, come to the principal’s office immediately.” I was dead for a second after my name was out of the speakers, and I turned…agitation. Moonlight looked at me.

 

“What?” Me

 

 

“What the bloody hell do they want?” Moonlight.

 

 

“We’ll know in a few minutes!” Me.

 

 

“We?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Ahuh!” Me.

 

 

She did not say anymore, so we started walking. As soon as my eyes could see the school…I saw my youngest aunty sitting in front of the school principal’s office! OH! I was curious why she was in my school, but before I reached there, she came out from the building, walking toward me.

 

“Hey, there you are! I see all scars are gone now. Grandma wants me to give you this.” The youngest aunt.

 

 

 

She was holding a 500-baht bill, I looked at it for a moment; it was a lot of money at the time and absolutely for a child of age 10.

 

“Why?” Me.

 

 

“Well, your grandma found the lost money, so she wants to give you some.” The youngest aunt.

 

I looked at it again, I did not understand why the grandmother wanted to give me 500-baht bill, I did not want it, and I simply wanted her to go away.

 

“I don’t want it! Can you tell your mother, if she wants to be nice, do not use me again! And that’d be genteel. My class is about to start. Could you excuse me, Ma’am? Goodbye.” Me.

 

I did not wait for her to say anything, I grabbed Moonlight’s arm and we ran.

 

 

The following year, just before Chinese New Year, the second semester was not yet done and I was not done with my class that day, but again, the school’s speakers yelled at me, this time, it was my maker! She wanted to take me home that weekend for Chinese New Year’s celebrations. I did not want to go with her and I did not want to leave Moonlight alone with the Chinese ghosts, but there was no option. The next day at the mother’s, every one of her family members was there; I was helping the mother since 5:00 am, making roast duck and some vegetables for lunch.

 

According to tales and a particularly long one, the beginning of the Chinese New Year started with a mythical beast called the Nian. Nian would eat…hmmm townies, especially little humans. One year, all the villagers decided to go hide from the beast. An old man appeared before the townies went into hiding and said that he is going to stay the night, and decided to get revenge on the Nian. All the townies thought he was insane. The old man put red papers up and set off firecrackers. The day after, the townies came back to

 

 

 

their town to see that nothing was destroyed. They assumed that the old man was a…Big G, who came to save them. The townies then understood the Nian was afraid of the colour red and loud noises.

 

When the New Year was about to come, the townies would wear red clothes, hang red lanterns, and red spring scrolls on windows and doors. People also used firecrackers to frighten away the Nian. From then on, Nian never came to the village again. The Nian was eventually captured by Hongjun Laozu, an ancient Taoist monk. The Nian became Hongjun Laozu's mount. The date of the Chinese New Year is always different; it depends on the moon, beginning at the new moon that falls between 21 January and 20 February in the Gregorian calendar (the calendar of the Catholic religion, the Chinese version) and is preside over by an animal of the zodiac, each one represents an element and fortune.

 

After the story and lunch, the adults gave the brother and me some small red envelopes, each one had its own name. The red colour of the envelope symbolizes good luck…ohh (tell me about it)…and is a symbol to ward off evil spirits. The money contained in the envelope usually ends with an even digit, in accordance with Chinese beliefs; odd- numbered money gifts are traditionally associated with funerals. The exception was the number 9, as the pronunciation of nine is homophonous with the word “long” and is the largest digit. Still, in some regions of China and, in its diaspora community, odd numbers are favoured for weddings because they are difficult to divide. There is also a widespread tradition that money should not be given in fours, or the number 4 should not appear in the amount, such as in 40, 400, and 444, as the pronunciation of the word “four” is homophonous with the word “death.”

 

After everyone was gone, I handed all the red envelopes to the mother, worrying about the number of the amount, thinking of the high possibility that my envelopes might have contained the number 4, as they failed to kill me last time, so they turned to…the death for help?? Like…“Please help me!...Kill the bitch!” The maker stared at me quite long…eventually, she said,

 

 

 

“Why don’t you open it? There’s some money inside. Don’t you know?” The mother.

 

 

“Yes, I do know. Many kids at school were talking about it.” Me.

 

 

“Why don’t you keep it? Grandma gave you a lot of money. You can buy your own snack.” The mother.

 

“I don’t want hers or their money. You keep it or return it. I want them to leave me alone. That’s all I want!” Me.

 

Next thing I knew, I was shipped back to school that very afternoon, oh, after cleaning all the pots, pans, and dishes! I told Moonlight about the money,

 

“You’re an idiot! You should have kept it!” Moonlight.

 

 

“I just want them to leave me…alone!” Me.

 

 

“They won’t! Every time they need someone to clean their fucking shit, you’re the best convenient option!! Doll’s head!” Moonlight.

 

“I don’t want to be like them! I hate them. I don’t want to be something I hate!...Bitch!” Me.

 

We were laughing after that, they actually got the message, I supposed, because they ceased to be nothing to me. Before we headed to the school kitchen, Moonlight said,

 

“I told you, we have each other. And that’s all we need!” Moonlight.

 

 

It was a thought at the moment, how could I be like something or someone I hate? I did not want to hate myself…and if I did…hate…me???...oh…no, I cannot imagine how things would go!

 

 

Studying, Learning, and Working: It happened all at once

 

 

Some say one door closes to open another door. By the age of 12 with some luck…. at last…I was in high school along with a scholarship and, of course, Moonlight was there as well. To get in the school, I had lost myself and temporarily lost my best friend…then I had to move back to the mother’s house. On top of all that, the high school was hard to get in to and hard to get out of without being insane. Luckily, I was already a lunatic and, most importantly, the madness idea of this ambition was the mother’s insisting, “You need to get into that school. Do you understand?” With her extreme physical speaker, therefore in that powerful sound, it was an impossible effort and skill to reject against the odds…I always thought I looked like deaf people!

 

She wanted me to be a veterinarian or a human’s doc because it was a moneymaking occupation, which was very very mentally disordered because she did feel a passionate dislike of animals and that was what she always said to me…more like she was afraid of them, but she wanted me to be….? Back to her house was not so bad, just like it used to be. I had learnt to manage the mental residents to get my job done, hiding when the mental residents gradually turned into psychopaths, and shut my mouth as much as possible. My jobs were cleaning everything, and a new arrival job was cleaning feces for her father, my grandfather. He was one of 2 new residents. I did not mind, as long as I could keep the psychopaths intact, besides, he was good to me.

 

Moonlight and I always stayed late at school, it was around 7:00 to 7:30 pm before we left, and it was going on for about 3 months. Actually, we were hiding as well because we were not allowed to stay late, unless…supervised. Eventually, we got caught and that was my class attendant, who was not only my teacher, but also my…life advisor. She was an assimilating and optimistic person, and she always tried her best when it came to “Survivor 101 Questions.”

 

One evening, while we were doing our homework with Ms. Goody, my class attendant, I was wondering about the mother’s new husband, another new resident who was AKA “Idiot.” It was not my word; it was the brother’s. The idiot did not like watching television or listening to music, and that was difficult…to live with someone

 

 

 

who liked to lie down on a couch eating popcorn and coke in front of an endless on- demand television. The idiot did not like the mother, the brother or me, saying grace before a meal…in the Catholic version. One day, while we were praying…and without a warning, the sound of true god was spoken.

 

“Stop it. Why are you praying for god? I’m the one who cooked the bloody food!!” The Idiot.

 

Personally, I did not mind praying for him, I thought he was right! I was told that he liked cooking and he also liked to hide foods, fruit, chocolate, and some sweets…honey in his closet…seriously…To be honest, I was laughing and almost choked on my own tongue…he was absolutely right about the praying.

 

It was not easy to hide all that shit in a closet that was full of clothes, but the brother had his own ideas, and that was why the Idiot was born, understandably! I was…ok with him at first, and I did not mind praying to him or tolerating his halfwit. Mostly, I was hiding when I was home; however, he liked to supervise everything that everyone did, and no matter what business was connectable or unconnectable, he always liked to be connected. Later on, he graduated to become Mr. F. Encroach…those were my words and the brother loved…it. The praying stopped, but a television…punch began, only this time the brother was under his mammy’s exclusive protection. The brother had won the punch and Mr. F. Encroach was very very mad. I had learnt one significant importance, “Do not cross the brother, period!”

 

After I finished wondering about Mr. F. Encroach to Ms. Goody, I could see an undeniable sorrow all over her face, I was confused about why she was sad, however, before the sorrow turned to misery, I started shooting questions.

 

“Ms. Goody. How can someone possibly love someone like Mr. F. Encroach? It’s disgusting really. I meant, chocolate or sweet pack is mmm all right, but food? Honey? In a closet?…full of clothes?” Me.

 

“Well, what do you think? Why does Mr. F do that?” Ms. Goody.

 

 

First, I was thinking of an explanation, as once Ms. Goody said, “We should not judge people speculatively until knowledge has been proved undoubtedly.”

 

“For the incense purpose…possibly…maybe?” Me.

 

 

“Oh dear, do better.” Ms. Goody said with a smile.

 

 

Ok, time for my realizability now, my head started to think!

 

 

“Well clearly, the action was very antagonistic. But again, it’s hard to keep food or snacks for good use later when he lives with someone who likes to eat almost everything that is unharmed. But then, as a father duty, he’s opening…hmmm a house war.” Me.

 

“Isn’t it? Very well, so maybe that is what your mother thinks about…the food! Seeing doesn’t always mean understanding. Many people don’t actually understand what they see with their eyes. You’re one of the brilliant minds. Promise me, you’ll always try to be true. It wouldn’t be easy or always. But, if you want to do something that isn’t you, it must have a good reason!” Ms. Goody.

 

“Hmm…What kind of a good reason would be untrue, Ms. Goody?” Me.

 

 

“The kind to protect yourself from harm. Sometimes, cruelty must be forced when it’s necessary!” Ms. Goody, with her right fist out.

 

In that kind of muscular reassuring of her fist, how could I resist? I keep my promise…sometimes very, very serious.

 

“Yes, Ms. Goody, I do so promise.” Me.

 

 

“I only hope I can guide you to the right directions!” Ms. Goody.

 

 

“Me too.” Moonlight: And we all were laughing…

 

 

Let’s see about that, shall we? Moonlight and I did not spend time with the other students, only a group study, Moonlight had different reasons than mine. “We are lunatics,” she said, “with PTSD clarification and you also have OCD. That’s why they don’t understand us.” Life was getting better and better!

 

The PTSD is a condition that can develop following a traumatic or scared-to-death event, such as a sexual or physical assault, the unexpected death of a loved one, or a natural disaster. People with PTSD often have lasting and frightening thoughts and memories of the event, and tend to be emotionally hmmm…insane and insensible. Frankly, I admired all those psychology studies, it seemed to…be…accurate, except the emotionally numb part, and my thought while I was reading was, “I think, we are going to need more than PTSD to get to the state of deprived.” Don’t you think? All the paths I had been on, I met a lot of lunatics with PTSD clarification, many of them had far worse symptoms than mine, I did not see once, NUMB…yet. If I had been…numb? I would probably be dead…or worse dead …and…hmmm rape? And the OCD is a condition that is plagued by constant…crazy thoughts or fears that cause them to perform certain rituals, voodoo problem, or routines. The disturbing thoughts are called obsessions, and the rituals are called compulsions, in another word, “Nutsy…” An example is someone with an unpleasant emotion caused by thinking of microorganisms who constantly washes his or her hands. I was arguing with Moonlight.

 

“I don’t have a certain voodoo problem.” Me.

 

 

“Who knows, maybe one day? You’ve routines and your lunatic is always out when it’s interrupted!!!” Moonlight.

 

“Ok, what about the unreasonable compulsive, I’m not!!” Me.

 

 

She was right, damn! By the time we actually lived together, my head already clarified for OCD and so did she…she did not admit it, but she had it! It was before the last semester of my last year in high school, when Moonlight and I decided to kick ourselves out from the place that was supposed to be safe…home? Again, we had different reasons for kicking ourselves out…Moonlight…Me!!

 

 

Moonlight’s reasons were noise and Mr. Johnn Walker Black Label, Moonlight’s mother had an intimate relationship with Mr. Johnny Walker Black Label, together they created an unimaginable opera…. expertise? I remember once at Moonlight’s grandparents’ house, before we moved out to an apartment. Moonlight and I were sleeping like a soldier, while the opera was on demand, and Mr. Johnny Walker Black Label tried to kick Moonlight and me…hard! And while we were pretending to be two soldiers, two real police were at the door! In that moment, we did make our decision…we needed to move out ASAP!

 

ASAP was not…appearing itself generously, in order to move, we needed three months’ payment for renting an apartment, which was another month and a half before we could move because we had to wait until we got paid from a part-time job. Moonlight and I cleaned dishes for a restaurant and I also had another job! It was homework cheating. I was…a gun-girl for hiring, my services were 15 baht for copies of my homework, 20 baht for doing homework, and a cheating for the final examination was 50 baht. The business was going pretty well, I was good at it…the cheating!! I could remember everything I read for two days, regarding of self-experiment, Moonlight thought I had autism as well. I told ya, life was getting better and better.

 

My reason for moving out was a very very rushed one, it was a sort of extremely urgent, emergency situation, and it was nothing to do with opera or Mr. Johnny Walker Black Label. It was something to do with Mr. Dick who was formerly called Mr. F. Encroach. Before I was going to chop his dick head off, (by all means, dick-head) he liked to share some books, which were too peculiar for a 12-year-old child, in Ms. Goody’s words. I did not know what to do with it…I was too little…for…heaven sake? So, the brother had an idea, every time I saw the too-peculiar books, I gave them to him.

 

By the time Mr. F. Encroach gradually became Mr. Dick, I was 16, and I needed to chop the dick-head, which stood out in the mother’s living room every morning. No matter how early I tried to get out for school, it seemed to beat my time and the living room looked…profound disapproval, aroused by something unpleasant. On a particular day, the dick-head started making an action that made me think, “It must be desperate for a man when dick-head is out…without a hole.”

 

 

In 10 seconds of seeing the ordinary dick-head’s movement, I walked to the mother’s kitchen, got a chopping knife, made in China…quite a bit…too big for the dick-head, but the cut would have been certain! When I got back to the living room, Mr. Dick and the dick-head had already started running and screaming! No wonder where I got my PTSD! Like wise men always said, “Everything and every action has consequences”; I landed at Moonlight’s grandparent’s house the very same day. The dick-head won, the mother decided to keep the dick-head.

 

When the day finally came, no more opera, no more Mr. Johnnie Walker Black Label and no more Mr. Dick. The sun was shining, Moonlight’s mother said, “Number 3 is a lucky number, a good day for moving.” I think it was the 3rd of October!

 

The first night of no more shit at our…fanciful apartment, a man ran away from another man who had a chopping knife, not sure where it was made. The first man fell down in the front of our apartment’s door; I could hear the noise of falling through it, and that was just all we needed! Moonlight and I were Feeling-Like-Home! We did not know what to do other than shut up and hope that the door could hold whatever happened on another side. All I could think of was…“Never believe anyone who likes to spend a lot of time with Mr. Johnnie Walker Black Label!” Next day, we were relocated to another building because our door was a murder crime scene. Oh, somebody was dead…at our door!

 

The living was stony, as we were in high school we did not make enough money, but we had some help. Moonlight’s grandmother was helping us with monthly rent and Ms. Goody gave us some dry food and rice when she came to visit…on the one day off. I had to save my OCD for the next day off…cleaning, and it was all right, we liked talking to her. I was telling Ms. Goody that in a few months, I was going to study at a pre-med school, but I did not know what I actually wanted to be. I was inspired by the powerful sound of the mother; I thought chopping people should not have been so bad! Besides, the hard-to-get-in and hard-to-get-out-without-insane school gave me a scholarship. With a big dumb luck, I was accepted at a pre-med, so I went along with the convective electrical impulses, into a loud sound of the mother…screaming!!

 

 

However, I had some discussion with my personal advisor, Ms. Goody, about my conversation with the mother…study and money.

 

“You need better reasons than that.” Ms. Goody.

 

 

“I have to tell the mother then. Oh, she said I’d make a lot of money, so I can look after the fat brother. Personally, I don’t understand why I have to look after him, but no one dares to disturb the idea! I want to be like…Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci, because he was everything, painter, sculptor, architect, musician, mathematician, magician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, botanist…oh, and mapmaker!” Me.

 

“You know, you’re smart in a very eccentric way.” Ms. Goody.

 

 

“Yes, Ms. Goody, I’ve PTSD, OCD, and possibly autism!” Me.

 

 

The time of studying, learning, and working happened all at once, it was a wonderful time. Studying was not so bad for the lunatic members…like…me; it was…sort of insane to read all those books and make experiments, just to become a professional human chopper! However, it was necessary for preserving body parts…correctly, and those were Moonlight’s words! Learning, on the other hand, was so…muddled and muddy, never seeing anything bright and clear, I admit, it was good to be a member of the lunatic when I had to learn about everything and everyone around me. Sometimes, I was wondering, maybe in fact, everyone has all in one crazy…nutty, but…not me!

 

The first week in pre-med, the seniors had an idea of home welcoming. It was inflicting something unpleasant as a tradition for the freshmen. Some universities I had heard that the home welcoming was going to high way to hell, I mean an actual hell, therefore it was forbidden later. Mine was not so bad; they put us in a morgue room with…hmmm 2 irresistible skin…women, who were lying on a comfortable steel table. It was 7:00 pm and all 14 of us were supposed to accompany the 2 ladies on the table for a night. I had never felt afraid of death, dead bodies, blood, organs, or anything insane, like ghosts. All that…shit did not work with my PTSD, so my plan was to read my biology book to the two ladies; they should have known about their skin’s condition! But, it did not quite go with the plan. One of the freshmen was sitting on the room’s floor, making a soundtrack

 

 

for our…environment; thank goodness the lunatic scarer (Moonlight) did not study there with me. Before my thought went further, the soundtrack was turned to a sound effect, then some of us started yelling at her. I moved to sit with her, hopefully, I could have somehow turned the sound effect to something like…jazz?

 

However, it was not going with the plan…too, and when I was trying to talk to her,

 

 

“Hey, are you ok? (Dumb question) It’s ok, just 2 dead bodies.” Me.

 

 

“I’m afraid of them, I need to get out.” The girl with the sound effect.

 

 

“Why do you want to be a doctor then?” Me…with ????

 

 

“I want to be a dentist, not a doctor.” The girl with the sound effect.

 

 

“?????...Ok, dentist huh, alright…how about…look at their teeth, maybe that might help?” Me.

 

Before I was about to say something else, the sound effect turned to be silent along with a shaking and she was shaking like…hell! My natural survival instinct kicked me to the room’s door, banging like no one missed.

 

“Hello, pretty girl! Would you like someone to hold you?” Mr. Perfect, the senior.

 

 

(A few years later, Mr. Perfect was arrested for chopping his girlfriend into 59 pieces and made a funeral…hmmm river ceremony for every part of her.)

 

“A…ha…I don’t need one, but she does. If you don’t do it now, she’ll join those 2 ladies…Lunatic!” Me.

 

After that day, I was getting worried about my craziness, I did not actually like the idea of being a professional human chopper and I was so worried about if I became a…harmful…doctor, or a stupid one, or worse, a serial killer, cannibalistic

 

 

psychopath…bitch! Besides, “Don’t give a knife to a crazy person,” wise men said, so I was pretty sure it would have been a terrible terrible idea, giving a surgical knife…to me!

 

While I was walking and wondering all those thoughts to my drawing class (anatomy), which was in the Art Department, I saw…painted pictures of buildings, landscapes and interiors. In that moment, I found the sparking of life! The next morning, I quit medical school!! Hopefully, I would be an architectural student…next year! The resignation from med school was not easy, but I found my way of corruptions, Moonlight said, “One day. You’re going to get murdered!” Well, Ms. Goody said, “Sometimes, it’s ok to be imperfect and cheating is not always bad if it doesn’t bother anyone.” The hard-to- get-in-and-get-out-without-being-insane school agreed to continue my scholarship if I was accepted…and it requested drawing skill. No way I could afford a tutor without a plan!

While I was waiting for a drawing test and the first semester, which was about six months later, I was at the Art Department and pretended to be a freshman…in a drawing class!

 

Furthermore, I was getting greedy, as no one seemed to care who came from where, I was studying like, We Are The One. Therefore, I moved myself after the drawing class to a basic design class, and when I was about to get out of the basic design class, a sound of thunder stopped me.

 

“I’ve never seen you before. What are you doing here?” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Oh, I’m a freshman here, sir.” Me.

 

 

“No, you aren’t, I didn’t see you last semester.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Ahhhh…I’m transferring, sir.” Me.

 

 

“I don’t have any information of a transferring student (with scary eyes and a long paused)…I tell you what. You tell me what you’re actually doing here and I’ll see what I can do for you.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Well…sir…I’m temporary…un-student sir; I’m waiting for a drawing test for the next freshmen, sir. The advisor of the department would like to see if I’m going to pass the drawing examination.” Me.

 

“What did you study before….? Un-student.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Pre-med…sir.” Me

 

 

“Tell me something, how much do you know about art or design?” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“No…Problem…Sir!! Under primitive conditions, art and design began when a wandering tribe found a place to sleep like a baby. Art has a long and interesting history, dating back much earlier than the 20th century. In the 19th century, art became a formal academic discipline, and there were two main views of the subject. One view focused on the relationship of art to its cultural environment, and other view analyzed the use of colour, line, and form. Therefore, art has grouped and regrouped into explosion to design. Consequently, in the modern world, the most successful groups are architecture, interior, and landscape!” Me.

 

“First of art and design is architecture. Architecture design is a form of building outdoor of sunny! Architecture first appeared in Egypt, where people had broken the ground and were compelled to erect a fence, in order to protect the homestead from the enemies and wild beasts. Later, architecture has become an important part of lifestyle, appearing in Greece, Rome and Italy, and around the world. According to the list of master architects from across history, who are made in the great building of Architecture Design; Amenophis (Egypt), Apollodorus (Roman), and Leon Battista (Italy). The experienced are largely played out of architectural spaces, loving the outdoors for escape…hmm insane offers from inside enclosure!...Anything else?...Sir.” Me, again!

 

Professor Daddy looked at me like, “What am I supposed to do with this nutsy?” Before I was about to come out with some more smart-ass remarks, he said,

 

“Tell me everything.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

 

Everything? I did not tell him everything; home’s…booming and Mr. Dick was not a fairy tale for adults anyway, when I finished my something…stories, he was into a long pause with google eyes and seemed like, he did not know what to think (if I were him). So, I broke the sound of silence.

 

“Did I say something wrong…Professor?” Me.

 

 

“Hmm…No, I tell you what, next year when you’re a student…if you are. We’ll talk more. Meantime, you’re allowed to come to my class and I’ll inform Professor Black (drawing)…about a transferring student!” Professor Daddy.

 

“I hope so, sir. When I’m a student, I’ll come to see you, sir. Thank you so much, sir. I won’t let you down.” Me.

 

I always try to keep my promise. First day as a student of architectural major and the same old shit, the home welcoming and, as usual, it had to be inflicting something unpleasant as a tradition, and the Art Department was…the very right place for a lunatic like me. I was thinking that I found my…home.

 

The seniors painted us in the…hideous grotesque animal magnetism and took us to a train station in front of the university. We had to pretend to be beggars, and they took all the money we…worked for?...for Mr. Mae-Khong, related to Mr. Johnny Walker Black Label, only Mr. Mae-Khong was made in Thailand. Every day was a different kind of unpleasant home welcoming; one day, we had to catch some dogs, which lived around the university (Thailand used to have a lot of street dogs) I thought it was dangerous, but they said, “Catch one that does not bite you.” Sometimes I wondered if I was going to survive my youth without brain damage or worse, completely mental phenomena.” After we caught the bloody dogs, we needed to paint it, in a significantly unusual way, therefore, one of the dogs had a middle human finger on both side of its body.

 

Another day, the seniors called us for a meeting, they said we needed to talk.

Professor Daddy told me once, “When you hear the words WE NEED TO TALK, it isn’t abnormal to be panicking!” I was the one feeling the panic.

 

 

 

“Who the hell painted…the middle finger on that dog?” Senior 1, Mr. Glass.

 

 

No sound, no one dared to say…anything!

 

 

“Ok, no one? Alright, how about everyone runs around the basketball field…200 times.” Senior 2, Ms. No Water, a royal bloodline.

 

Shit…I was thinking that there were 2 options; one, if I stayed shut up, I would have been murdered pretty soon, and two, if I confessed, I was not sure what was going to happen next. Either way, I may well have been killed, better to spare my classmates and the others.

 

“It was my dog, Ms. No Water…You guys said…something meaningful…What is the problem?” Me.

 

They did not say anything, Ms. No Water walked toward me before the meeting was over and said, “Good luck”…Good luck for what? I thought what worse event could have been planned than chasing a dog with a lot of disorders of specific symptoms…evidently!! Next day, they gave us some clothes from 2600 B.C., when mummy making began in Egypt, and some charcoal for our faces…I looked like an ordinary homeless person, but that did not satisfy the seniors, we had to act like we had autism, and why I was warned “Good luck” from Ms. No Water.

 

“You! Skinny one! Don’t go yet. Here, wear this.” Senior 3, Mr. A+.

 

 

It was a small signboard with the words that had only one meaning “Kiss me if you dare!” Told you, it was the right place for me! They sent us to a market behind the university and while I was sitting there, I heard someone say,

 

“Don’t worry. No one dares! Besides, you don’t have…mmmm…you know…boobs and all.”

 

 

Aha…What the…when I looked at the owner of the voice, he was a freshman just like me. I could not see his face, nor could he see mine. He started…mostly barking, complaining about how silly the tradition was, how Ms. No Water did… so mean, and blah blah. After about half an hour, my ears were black and I needed to say something to shut him up.

 

“What major are you?” Me.

 

 

“Product Design. Why?” The freshman, who later was known as Mr. Moody Be Good, and he became the best friend of Moonlight and me.

 

“You’d go home to mammy, daddy, and cry.” Me.

 

 

“Can’t. Daddy is in heaven with sexy angels. Mammy is busy with work and her psychopathic husband.” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

“Then suck it up, and shut the fuck up…Please.” Me.

 

 

That did actually work very well because he was gone. Sometimes, the seniors painted my face, my hair, and gave me…fake boobs along with a big yellow ribbon on my head, and sometimes…most of the time, I got all-in-one made over. I was quite popular for my seniors since my first education of art was “How to paint a dog,” and all the home welcoming week, I was very glad that I painted the dog!

 

The fingers and the colours on both sides of the dog were slightly off, and every time when the good dog was around, I smiled.

 

By the time I was a student of art, I had already transformed from a regular young girl to Bob Marley’s sister, and never minded what people’s eyes saw, I liked being Bob’s sister and it was easy. I did not need to brush my hair or clean my hands after painting class…for energy-saving. “We must think ahead,” those were Professor Daddy’s words. I actually cleaned my clothes, it just had…too many colours, therefore, it looked…contaminated. My seniors thought I was a maturing problem with unnatural sophisticated development!

 

 

 

The last day of home welcoming all week, I was told that I must not miss, otherwise I would be called “Idiot.” It was The Name Day, the day we were given a new name and the name must be named, based on our anomalous characteristic phenomenon. When I was named, my original one was disappeared for five years, and everyone, including the janitors, called me,

 

“Why Balloon?” Me.

 

 

“You don’t have…boobs. You don’t have…ass, that’s it.” Mr. A+, who was AKA Mr. Charmer Watch Out!

 

After the name’s time, I went to see Professor Daddy; he was not only my major attendant but also my major professor. When I reached his office, he was reading something, so I made some noises by breaking something atypically freakish, an unpredictable clay-work, he called Art, and it was on the bloody floor at the corner of his office…door!!

 

“Ooh…Shit. Sorry, sir. I didn’t see it. I hope it isn’t expensive.” Me.

 

 

“No, and watch your language! Ah! Finally, someone broke it. What do you think, why did I put it there?” Professor Daddy.

 

“Sir…I thought it was your…clay-work?” Me.

 

 

“It was. Now it wasn’t. And I don’t need to answer the question every time when someone saw it!” Professor Daddy, with no emotional heartbreak.

 

“Question…sir?” Me.

 

 

“What the hell is it? That was the question…Ha, not anymore.” Professor Daddy.

 

“You need to see me, sir?” Me.

 

 

 

“No. You need to see me! I told you to come and see me when you’re done…crazy.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Sorry sir, it was no way to get here without being caught.” Me.

 

 

“Aha, I see, the home welcoming. By the way, I saw the bloody dog of yours! I have a work- position in my office if you’re interested.” Professor Daddy.

 

“I’d come and clean your office after class. You don’t need to hire me, sir, it’d be an honour!” Me.

 

“What…you…! It isn’t this office, doll’s head. I meant an architecture company…but, no way you can get in the office building….looking like….What are you now?” Professor Daddy.

 

“Lucas Cranach 1472, sir, his work was decorative.” Me.

 

 

“Yes…yes, you like him huh…weird! Clean yourself a bit. Here is the office’s address.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Sir, I only know a little of draft…what else can I do?” Me.

 

 

“Let’s find out, shall we! You’re a fast learner. You’d survive Mr. Hardly. Unless you want to stick with your dish-job.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Mr. Hardly?” Me.

 

 

“Well. He is a skillful draftsman with a very…demonstrating neat teaching.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Thank you so much for an opportunity, sir, I won’t let you down!” Me.

 

 

“Yes, I get that. Well, good luck with Mr. Hardly. You’ll learn a lot from him. Oh, don’t stare at him too long….hmmm…better not at all. Do you get that? Professor Daddy.

 

“O…K!” Me.

 

 

Working at an architecture company made more money than cleaning dishes. We were exactly, as Moonlight had said, “We have each other, that’s all we need.” Sometimes, many times, we did not have enough food, but we were passing physical and mental characteristics and tried to maintain our sanity as much as we could. Since I worked for Professor Daddy and his partners, things got better, not much, but better.

 

First I was copying papers, sending letters and learning draft-plan. Mr. Hardly was a neat teacher just like Professor Daddy said; he liked to yell (reminded me of the powerful sound lady…the mother) He liked to let me know how stupid I was with his super physical surround sound systems! He did not want everyone in the office to miss a thing; I thought Mr. Hardly probably liked Aerosmith! He also liked swear…words and gave me a new name daily; the most used words were doll’s head, roof hole, and a stupid cow when I was an actual stupid learner.

 

I did not enjoy being exposed, as I was not deaf and did not want to be a superstar, however, Professor Daddy said,

 

“It’s good for you.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“How is that super dodo sound is good for me? I’m probably going to be deaf before my graduation.” Me.

 

“Well. Think this way. You learn new words for swearing every day. He’s quite…imagining guy. Don’t you think?” Professor Daddy.

 

“That’s just what I need, sir!” Me.

 

 

“Ok. He’s what he is. This is nothing to do with you. You learn as much as you can from him with your brain, not your ass. Balloon, there are a hundred million people who haven’t

 

 

had a job. You should be happy. Besides, you’re learning things, which school isn’t providing. He’s right. You’re doll’s head.” Professor Daddy.

 

He was absolutely right about Mr. Hardly; I had learnt a lot of techniques and how to think before I designed something. He told me, “A good designer needs an analytical brain, think ahead of how it’d work and how it’d be cleaned. Stupid cow like you probably think only how to make it pretty!” And that was how he taught me, Mr. Hardly also had…intoxicating lover, Mr. Jack Daniel’s, and every time when Mr. Hardly was with his lover, he liked to howl…like Dances with Wolves, oh, with 4 feet downed. (About “don’t stare at him”…you don’t want to know. Something to do with his…nose?)

 

After my first year as art student, life was…getting weird and weirder. There were 35 students in my class and only 5 girls; everyone seemed to get along just fine including me. While I was in a drawing class, enjoying my imaginations, one of my classmates knocked my back with his drawing pencil.

 

“Knock knock! Hey Balloon. We’re going to Drunken Flower tonight. You wanna come?” Mr. Cross.

 

“Oh. I don’t drink.” Me.

 

 

“You don’t need to. It’s just a social time with classmates and some seniors, you know. You always disappear after school. They think you don’t like them.” Mr. Cross.

 

“Ok…Sorry. I didn’t think about it. Sure, Drunken Flower it is.” Me.

 

 

That was Mr. Cross who I liked talking to. He mysteriously had an unconventional uncommon imagination! He was an expert in rituals and he collected peculiar artifacts. He also had a pure, naked, beautiful heart like I had never seen, and everywhere Mr. Cross went, he always carried his suitcase (an 18th-century European-style suitcase). I was so…curious about what was inside the suitcase. However, the Drunken Flower…night’s conversation was…responsibilities. The Drunken Flower bar was not a classy bar; it was cheap and built of bamboo. So many geckos and numerous bugs of different species, you would not feel alone, if you were alone…in there.

 

 

 

“So many geckos. And so many…buggy?” Me.

 

 

“They’re nice, Balloon! You see, geckos eat bugs and bugs clean up almost everything on the Earth. We’d appreciate them. Don’t you know? More than a million described species, insects account for more than two-thirds of all known organisms!” Mr. Cross.

 

“Wow. That’s…stunning!” Me.

 

 

“Hey. It isn’t a joke. We’d protect them and keep them safe! I don’t kill mosquitos. Even though they bite me.” Mr. Cross.

 

“Well…not all mosquitos are actually bloodsucking. But with some types of mosquitos, the females are bloodsuckers. Therefore, they are dangerous vectors of diseases.” Me.

 

“Come on, Balloon. Really. How can you kill something that lives long only a few days? It’s sad to wait for quite a long development just to live for a few days, don’t you think?” Mr. Cross.

 

“I’ll be sad about mosquito’s development, if you’re dead in the process of WE ARE

THE WORLD!” Me.

 

 

“Don’t worry. I’m not actually human. Do you want to see something important? Something I was born to be. It’s my destiny!” Mr. Cross.

 

Wow, I was impressed by the word “destiny.” That was the first time I was thinking about destiny, but before I was going to lose myself into my brain, Mr. Cross moved his right hand to his suitcase and that was something I had been waiting for quite sometimes. Inside the suitcase, there were…handmade wood crosses in different shapes, a giant black nail, a something he called a bowl-skull, which was made from a 29-year-old human male, and a holy water bottle.

 

“Mr. Cross. What are these…for…exactly?” Me.

 

 

“Ok. These are crosses in different descriptions. It represents the generic meaning of ‘To Intersect.’ Due to the simplicity of the design in two intersecting lines, cross-shaped incisions make their appearance from deep prehistory; as petroglyphs in

European cult caves, dating back to the beginning of the Upper Paleolithic, and throughout prehistory to the Iron Age. Also of prehistoric age are numerous variants of the simple cross mark, including the crux gammata with curving or angular lines, and the Egyptian crux ansata with a loop. That why they are different! This is a black nail and it represents evil spirits. And this one is a bowl-skull from a 29-year-old man. Pour the holy water in the bowl-skull. Then place it in the middle of a room. It summons evil spirits. And when I see them, I use these crosses to stab them. Can you keep it secret, Balloon?” Mr.

Cross.

 

 

“Ah, huh. I won’t tell a soul. I swear on…??...oh, all those miraculous artifacts.” Me.

 

 

“I’m the one of Fallen Angels. And my destiny is to serve Lucifer. Those spirits are upsetting the balance of the earth. My job is to bring them back to hell…You must have a lot of questions…Right?” Mr. Cross.

 

“Huh!…Aha…yes! What do they call you…in hell?” Me.

 

 

“Azazel.” Mr. Cross.

 

 

Mr. Cross started telling me about…his story!

 

 

According to demonology, Azazel, whose name is probably derived from “Falling Angel” was an evil influence who led to the corruption of humanity. Because he was among heaven’s angels, a gloriously beautiful man with wings on his back. When he sympathized with Satan, he was cast down to earth and became a leader of the kicked- out angels. By the time he became a major character in Jewish and Christian texts, he had taken on a demonic appearance…like evil’s cosmetic makeover for Halloween.

 

I was not sure what I could think after he had done his…story about himself, I had never thought about god, evil, and ghosts, I did not have time, so the conversation was interesting!

 

 

 

“Wow, Mr. Cross. That is awesome! Can you help me when I go to hell?” Me.

 

 

“Of course, you’re my friend.” Mr. Cross.

 

 

“So, how long do you have to…be here…on Earth?” Me.

 

 

“Until the balance of the earth has been restored.” Mr. Cross.

 

 

“I’m glad I found you. You’re my insurance in hell. Thanks.” Me.

 

 

“Anytime! I’ll tell Lucifer. I’m sure he’d like to meet you!” Mr. Cross.

 

 

“Oh…dear, really? Do you think he would like…me?” Me.

 

 

“Yes, I’m certain! Although, I might have to warn him about your craziness, I’m sure he’ll like you very much!” Mr. Cross.

 

“Hallelujah, I’ve never been so happy…like…right now! Could you please, tell Lucy that we’re going to manage some boundaries. Is that ok?” Me.

 

“Sure, you can have your own place there. Don’t worry, Balloon. I’ve got your back, baby!” Mr. Cross.

 

I did tell Moonlight about Mr. Cross, I knew I should have kept my promise, but Moonlight was my best friend and she was the only family I had.

 

There were few like Mr. Cross and all of them were just indistinguishable like me. For example, Ms. Dim Dim, she liked to wear her clothes inside out, and Mr. Gas, who had a car, but felt intense dislike of driving, so he hired me to drive his car, pick him up at his house and kick him out…at his house. There was also Mr. Ghostmen, who believed he was a medium, so he liked to talk to his ghosts, and Ms. Boy, who liked to be a boy with yellow hair and she was also some…big governor’s daughter.

 

 

“Are you collecting weirder friends or something? What does happen to a normal one?” Moonlight.

 

“Well. You know, I always have a soft spot for broken things. We don’t know what happens to them at home. Rich or poor seems to live in the same old shit! Besides, think in a good way. When we’re dead and go to hell…possibly! Mr. Cross will help us!” Me.

 

“Ah…huh. And if we go to heaven? So…? What?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Then we’re fucked. How are we going to fit in there with a PTSD academic qualification? You don’t really think the god’s crazy…do you?” Me.

 

“You’ve got a point. Ok, I need to be nice to Mr. Cross then. Can you ask Mr. Cross if I can have a king-size bed?” Moonlight.

 

By my year 3, I moved from a draft to a designer and made more money, but it was still not enough. Studying architecture was not a cheap major, colours, papers, and shit were expensive, therefore, my gun-girl company was back in business, and I made more money than in high school. Yes, I knew…it was bad!

 

There were 3 groups in my class: lunatic, normal ignorance, and normal egotism.

The normal ignorance group were my customers, but the normal egotism group just…left me alone. I was not sure if it was because of my appearance or my PTSD. Moonlight said they were jealous because my works were…different from usual in a mentally deranged way. And I was transferred from pre-med…they were afraid to be a body part!

 

I did not care…I was more…like…back off…girl, I had my schedules after work and study, and I was always in my office…at work, doing school projects and work projects at the same time because it was cheaper for…me but…it was not my idea.

 

“Hey Balloon! Why don’t you do the school’s projects too? You can use these colours for your projects.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Hmm…mm…don’t think your partners would like that!” Me.

 

 

“Don’t worry. They’re cabbage’s heads. They’d not know anything.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Sir…so I need to design my school projects with…something that matches the colours?? That isn’t gonna be easy…” Me.

 

“You’re crazy and you’re smart. Problems solved.…Maybe, you are not smart like they said…just a doll’s head.” Professor Daddy.

 

“They?” Me.

 

 

“Your classmates. The normal ones!” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Ah. I didn’t think they even notice me…odd! They hardly talk to me!” Me.

 

 

“Really. Huh…I think they’re afraid of you. Look, who isn’t? Clothes, hair, hands…Have you ever looked…deep into a mirror?” Professor Daddy.

 

“What is wrong with it? I’m an art student. I don’t want to be like those chicks in other majors.” Me.

 

“What is so terrible? They’re cute girls.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Sir…the giggling. The brushing and…tight skirt. Not even mentioning about…spotting everywhere she goes…princess of…subservient? It looks so…frustrated.” Me, with actions.

 

“Ha ha. You listen! Designers are supposed to be elegant. Who is going to hire a designer who looks like…you? How are we supposed to present something beautiful when we look like…you? Behind your Bob Marley’s sister shit idea, you’re a beautiful girl. Don’t waste it.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

After that day, I changed…a bit, brushed my hair, cleaner clothes, as much as I could possibly find. Moonlight’s grandmother brought some clothes for her and I was a bit smaller than her, so problem solved. Professor Daddy was right, the normal egotism gang started talking to me after…new me! Some claimed that they were afraid that I might have bitten them, others, hmm…afraid that I had cockroaches in my hair. Mr. Cross thought they were envious of us (me and him) because we were different, but I was not sure about his idea…envious?…No…afraid?…Yes!

 

Mr. Moody Be Good was always around, even though he was in the Product Design major, still, he was my customer…hmmm. Mr. Moody Be Good was nice to Moonlight and I; his mother owned a big shop, which sold almost everything including food…so Mr. Moody Be Good did…do…shoplifting from his…mother’s shop for us! He liked to hang out at our apartment…a lot because his stepfather decided to train himself, becoming a boxer. To be a boxer, he used Mr. Moody Be Good and his mother, as punching bags.

 

One…good evening, Moonlight and I stopped by at Mr. Moody Be Good’s, we were talking, smoking weed and joking about his…shoplifting! I knew that was bad. While we were enjoying our conversations, Mr. Moody Be Good’s stepfather wanted to practice his boxing skill! Moonlight and I had a skill of movement survivor…but Mr. Moody Be Good’s mother did not. Before the stepfather turned to Mr. Moody Be Good, something so loud hit into my eardrums, and a moment later, the stepfather was gone…down. Moonlight was screaming like a chick bitch, but Mr. Moody Be Good and I were looking at each other in the way of “Problem solved.” A gunman was Mr. Moody Be Good’s neighbour, and he could not listen to “The Sound of Silence” anymore!

 

Things were good until my year 4, Moonlight wanted to change schools to the north because they had the German language. She was in a language major and she was an excellent one, I always told her that only an autistic could speak, read, and write 5 languages! I agreed with her that she would do well there and it was an excellent university in the north. I was able to pay the rent at the time, but before Moonlight went to the north, the brother showed up at my school and told me that his mother offered me 2,000 baht for moving back…home? I told the mother, I did not need her money and it would be good if I did not need to pay rent. We had an agreement that I paid for

 

 

hydro and water bills, and Moonlight stayed with me on our school break. “Without dick-head, how bad could it be?” That was what I said to Moonlight, so she did not have to worry. The move back home was kind of…like a landlord, and most of the time, I was in my office, doing my shit until late.

 

When I was in the final year, I was able to finish my subjects for my graduation early. All the reports and exams were done and my research was accepted along with my project, I only needed to wait for my project to be exhibited. It was important for us because many design companies would come and might offer one of us a job. As my school assignments were completed, I spent a lot of time working and busy with my

gun-girl company, I had been hired to do…research and projects!!!!

 

 

At work, it was going…never be happy! My bosses often sent me to sex hotels, sex bars, soapy massage (where a girl gives a customer a shower and massage with her naked body) and visited strip clubs. They sort of…enjoyed sending me for the jobs, and every time when I got back from meeting with customers,

 

“Balloon! What were you and the customer talking about?” Mr. Hardly.

 

 

“Ah. Do you really want to know?…Are you sure?” Me.

 

 

“Fuck! If I don’t’ want to know, why the hell do I ask you?…Chick’s head!!” Mr. Hardly, in his usual self!

 

“Oh, you know…how bloody desperate men could be without a hole! Do you have a problem with…a hole? That why you want to know?” Me. Ouch! (P.S., Mr. Hardly liked beating a kid!)

 

Something like that! It was not often we got…the projects, but still, most projects were home offices, where people live, work, and shit at the same place; those were Professor Daddy’s words! Other projects were building businesses, hotels, and restaurants. We were like…all-in-one design and construction, but we used co- companies to do the building for us.

 

 

Professor Daddy’s partners were Mr. Neat (he was a professor in a Law major program) and Mr. Bamboo (he was a construction engineer), and they were friends. Mr. Neat was a rich one; he liked to send me to a particular unnatural customer he called “Fat Cunt” and the interpretation would refer to someone who understood that a good architect required nice tits. Mr. Neat’s idea was to dress me up, so he gave me some money to buy “Nice sexy clothes, not a sexy slut…get it?” he said! I got a t-shirt, a good one made in Paris, and nice trousers made in the U.S.A.

 

“That’s what you call sexy?” Mr. Neat.

 

 

“Yaaa, don’t you see? It’s Guy Laroche! Don’t worry boss, I won’t let you down…promise. Oh, here is your change. Thanks, boss!” Me.

 

The fat cunt did sign a contract with us; I was told that he had 6 meetings with different…tits? Therefore, Mr. Neat asked me what did I do?

 

“I didn’t do anything Boss! After I was done listening to him about how a good architect should dress sexy, I said, ‘Sir! I’m very confident with my brain…sir. And you need…my sexy brain for your hospital, not tits…and asses? But, if you would like your hospital filled up with…tits and asses, my boss would send somebody else with…sir.

The choice is yours, but if you let me do my job, I won’t let you down…sir!’ And that’s it…Boss. Anything else Mr. Neat…Boss?” Me.

 

While I was busy with the fat cunt’s hospital project, I got a phone call from Mr.

Moody Be Good. Mr. Cross had gone to his actual home…hell, in the act of causing death…intentionally, and he left me a letter.

 

Mr. Cross’s parents were divorced, the cause of divorce was something to do with…dull and genius…too bad his mother did not have a smart-kit! So, his father was remarried to a businesswoman and therefore, his mother was…remarried to Mr.

Johnnie Walker Black Label…yes…he backed. His father came to visit only when a dog smiled, but he always sent money, stuff, and a car. I understood Mr. Cross’s father completely, it was not easy to communicate with someone who was married to Mr.

Johnny Walker Black Label in my experiences, and that was what I told Mr. Cross.

 

 

 

Mr. Cross, who was remarkable in drawing and painting, which I have never seen again in my travel across the universe! His paintings were as real as a photograph; the colour, the people, and all nature subjects, especially the light, it was extraordinary…like “Michelangelo, kiss my ass!” He taught me many things, such as how to draw or paint, or how to listen to rock and roll, jazz, and some classical music, and how to understand the rhythm of the music, he said, “Don’t listen to anything that you don’t understand the rhythm. It’ll give you wobblies.” He also taught me…smoking weed, he said, “Don’t let it use you…wisely…do you get it?” and how it would help the depth of…mental…hardship!

 

 

 

I knew so little about music before I met Mr. Cross, I did not know which artists I loved the most or what kind of music I liked. Mr. Cross had so many CDs and DVDs, and he thought it was a good time to introduce me to the artists. After a couple of the artists on DVDs, Freddie Mercury was on my television, covered with…Her Majesty’s robe in full options…jumped from his piano to the middle of the stage…uncovered himself and in 15 seconds, he slammed off his black leather trousers. There he was, Freddie with red leather lingerie and nothing else, and in that moment, I found my one true love!

 

I loved everything about Freddie; he was an extraordinary and no word else. Freddie was born in India but relocated to England, the true artist that rocked the world without hesitation like…

 

“I’m a satellite, I am out of control. I’m a sex machine ready to reload!!…They call me Mister Fahrenheit….The speed of light…make a supersonic woman of you…” Oh mann…Freddie…really, after I was listening to you, I got you, Freddie, you were…hmmm huge and…fast!! And the “Fall in love play the game.” Oh, I am not…sporty with the game…and “Galileo! Ha ha.” That is why I am so in love with you until these days like…true love never dies!

 

I was very sad when he died because I was hoping that one day, he would write a book about himself, about experiences and people he had met in his path. Imagine,

 

 

Freddie and a book with his own words and himself!!! I probably would have been dead on my bed, caused by my own laughter!! Too bad that he died before I had a chance to introduce myself! Miss ya Freddie! P.S., Moonlight was on our apartment floor, laughing herself out like…an instinctive expression of a big wrinkle after the Red Lingerie.

 

One thing I was sure of after Mr. Cross told me about his parents; I should not have children if I was not ready and definitely not with someone who was Mr. Johnny Walker Black Label or Mr. Jack Daniel’s ex! The universe did not lose just a good person, but also an incomparable quality young man because of carelessness and frailty.

 

The letter was not many…sentences. It was said.

 

 

Dear Balloon,

 

 

When you get this letter, I am probably home. I will miss you and Moonlight terribly. Thanks for being my friends and my family when my human parents become someone else. See you two in hell! I will make a place for you guys, as promised!

 

I Love you two, Sisters!

 

 

Cross. …

 

 

P.S. Tell Moonlight, she can have a king-size bed!

 

 

I was so happy and felt so confident simultaneously when I read the letter, because in his final thoughts he remembered our promise…for once. I wanted to see him again and still do, I am some sort of scared of heaven more than hell…well literally, everyone seems to knows what hell looks like, but no one literally says how exactly heaven is! It would be good to know how or where I am going!! Second, I knew he was fine in his last moment because he never broke his belief of his destiny and…Azazel…as a very last! He was not afraid or feeling alone; lunatic is not always crazy, sometimes it creates exhilaration. I will never forget Mr. Cross and every time I heard his favourite song (“Behind Blue Eyes,” 1971; The Who) Mr. Cross was in my mind. Behind all

 

 

those…phenomenal devoted thoughts, he was an inimitable person to Moonlight and me!

 

Graduation day, to be honest, I was drunk most of the time, every one of my…gang was smoking weed in a washroom at the school’s hall and it was Mr. Moody Be Good’s idea! I did not agree with the idea of the graduate ceremony (the king of Thailand gave the privilege) it was very crowded and the traffic was very very shit, never understood what was the point. Could we just be proud without being harassed by the traffic? Mr. Moody Be Good said I should not have complained because I was going to be in the first group and no need to be in a hurry. We kept partying in the bathroom where we were smoking weed and drinking, getting intoxicated, until someone called us in.

 

I was wondering with Mr. Lunatic, who permanently moved into my brain. What would have happened if I tripped in front of the king, or worse, on him…lap?…and what could possibly happen after I sat on his….lap, if I actually tripped? The ceremony was supposed to be a privilege by the king in normal opinions, but I was not a normal, so….

 

Before we were called into the university’s grand hall, Mr. Moody Be Good gave us another round of weed, I forgot that I was in the first 10; therefore I was not…sure if the king could smell cannabis on me! And before the king, we had to shake hands with all our professors, and most professors would say good job, or well done…whatever meant no harm, however, when I reached my Professor Daddy, he said, “What the…hell?” I did only smile, wanted to laugh, but the king…I might have lost my head before my graduation was over! After we finally got out from…hmmm the final task, it was time to meet families. I was with Mr. Moody Be Good’s mother, she was nice to come! Mine was there too, but she replied responsively as same as David (Michelangelo. 1501-1504), who stood on a gold craft rock with the words “HISTORY OF ART”…naked!

 

Professor Daddy asked me where was the mother, I pointed, but before I was going to say…“Don’t,” he had already reached the mother. A moment later, he was walking back and said,

 

 

 

“You tell her. It doesn’t need to be smart for being a mother.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Sorry. I was going to stop you, but I’m drunk. You’d know. Drunk makes a slow motion. So, what did she say?” Me.

 

“Well, I was congratulating her and told her that she’d be proud of you. But…she said, ‘It’s nothing to do with me, why the hell did you say that?’ She’s only here for a picture of the king!” Professor Daddy.

 

“Sorry Professor, she was pissed because this isn’t a medical graduation, but freak…her words! APPROXIMATELY, you’re too…the freak! I’m supposed to chop people for her…I’m a disappointment! I’m so glad…” Me.

 

Good thing that Moonlight was not there, she would have laughed thunderously, I was not surprised because after I told the mother about the graduation day, she was howling about the king picture…none stopped! Moonlight was in the north for her graduation and it was 2 days after mine. It had not been crowded and no shit traffic!

Anyway, 5 bloody languages with skillful, the bitch got a job at an embassy right away!

 

 

At the graduate party, everyone was talking about what they were going to do tomorrow or went somewhere. I was with Mr. Moody Be Good, talking about “How to grow weed!” So much enjoyment talking, smoking, drinking, and eating. Some of my lunatic members such as Ms. Dim Dim or Mr. Ghostmen were in the weed group. I did not think the weed was a good idea at first, but turned out, it was so cool. I was thinking of Mr. Cross…just only a few months, he could have gone back to hell with a bachelor of architecture degree, if he did not need to hurry back. I was gone into another dimension until Professor Daddy asked.

 

“Hey Balloon! What are you going to do tomorrow?” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Oh. Probably sleep all day, sir!” Me.

 

 

“And????” Professor Daddy.

 

 

 

“Move out from where I’m going to sleep all day tomorrow. Unless I get kicked out tonight…sir! Me.

 

 

The Life and The People

 

 

After graduation, Professor Daddy told me that a superior architecture company offered me a job and the job…he said… was “Big Shit” meaning, a good pay cheque came along with the ultimate…shit. I did not want to take the job, but he insisted that it would be a good opportunity for me. In my experiences, every time someone insisted on me doing something, I lost my sanity, just like the idea of a professional human chopper. The company didn’t only have projects inside the country, but also in Singapore, Malaysia, and so on. The good news Professor Daddy gave me was that Ms. No Water, who was my senior from the home welcoming, was working there, as my boss to be!

 

“Ahh…You’re joking, right? Don’t you think that she would probably turn me into an eldritch? Not even thinking about…the laughter part.” Me.

 

“Don’t go back to the doll’s head. You’re crazy as much as her. It’s the right place for you.” Professor Daddy.

 

“That’s just all I need! Last time I went to the world genius place like that I ended up…unleashed my natural ability…cheating! Besides, I like working here. I’ve learnt a lot, including how to make swearing. And I may well bring you an embarrassment if I work…there. Last time I checked, I was the stupidest in the pre-med and almost burned the building down….mmmm. Once!” Me.

 

“First, your new boss is a psychiatrist. You can let the freak fly. Second, you’ve enough swearing. You don't need more. And the new thing you should learn…doll's head. Being a stupid one in the group of the smart is better than being a smart one in the group of the stupid. Do you get that?” Professor Daddy.

 

“How would that be better?” Me.

 

 

“Oh…Doll’s head. Now I’m very insistent. Over there, you can fill your doll’s head with some wisdom.” Professor Daddy.

 

 

 

“Over there would have…cleverly brilliant…ingeniously intelligent. Are you sure you want to humiliate yourself??” Me.

 

“I’m sure. You won’t let me down. If you wanted to be a doctor, I confidently believe you’d have done well.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Yes…evidently, sir. My former senior at the med school just chopped his girlfriend into 59 pieces. He just started his residences. Can you imagine if he had done his residences? She would have…become a smoothie.” Me.

 

About a month later, I moved into my new office and moved out from the mother’s house. A shocking moment when I was announcing my ending rental residence, she was gone to…let’s just say hmmm…incandescent! Her outstanding physical speaker was cunning and the sound was ear-piercing for deaf people to hear. Of course, the shock was not about the sound, I had 8 years of practice even when she was my landlord. “I don’t see any reason why you need to move out!” That was the shocking part and, like I said, “A Shocking Moment,” the mother was ending her sentences with,

 

“A daughter won’t move out from home before she marries. It brings shame to the family. Thank god, you didn’t turn out to be a hooker last time. What am I going to tell people? They’d know that you’re a slut.” The mother.

 

That was a very nice ending, especially the emphasized part “Thank God.” I actually did not have time to thank god, I did not think about him at all, but I did thank Ms. Goody, Mr. Cross, Professor Daddy, Moonlight, Moonlight’s grandmother and the others whom I met on my path. Sorry, God, I was too busy, thank you to those people who cared for me!

 

Well, the mother had a point according to our culture, but I decided to be a slut. Moonlight and I found an apartment near the center of Bangkok City, nice place for someone who likes carbon dioxide. The apartment was nicer and more comfortable than the first one, and the embassy, where Moonlight worked, was not far, neither was

 

 

my new office. Ms. Goody lent me her car for a day and thanks to Mr. Gas, my classmate, who hired me to drive his car. Without those years of driving practice, Moonlight and I would have slept over in Ms. Goody’s car…fucking traffic! After we finished moving, we went back to Ms. Goody’s place and had dinner with her. I was joking about the conversation of my becoming a slut.

 

“Do I have to wait for…3 months or 6 months to become an official slut?” Me.

 

 

“Well, Dolly! We moved out already. According to the culture, we are officially sluts.” Moonlight.

 

“Alright, you two. Stop the irony and listen to me. That isn’t funny and you know better. Don’t…what do you like to say? Oh, shit…ah. Ok, don’t shit on yourself. Do you get it? Don’t answer me. Think! What did a reckless father give you…somewhat?…Disconsolation? And what did the reckless father do to your mother? Maybe, before you’re born, some complication happened. And somehow, you’re the constant reminder of her failure. Sweetheart, forgiving is a laborious task when we have to forgive our family who failed to love us. However, I want you both to try.” Ms. Goody.

 

I was not sure if I could understand what Ms. Goody said because it was a sort of a Charlotte's Web…for me, however, I was thinking I needed to find some understanding, but how did someone like me who did not have parents or guardians or guardian angels, not even a fairy godmother, understand…this shit? The only thing I had was my doll’s head with unwelcome residents inside…Mr. Lunatic and Ms.

Conscience!! So, I told myself, “Use them wisely.”

 

 

I decided to dedicate myself to finding some real answers and the questions were

(1) how to be a human, (2) how to love, and (3) how to believe. I needed to discover as much as I could by using the same theory I had been taught in med school: “Sometimes science asks for forgiveness then asks for permission!” So, all the way up and down in this world, I was not sure, if I got…things right!

 

 

First day at my new…elegant…classy office…it was on floor 26 of the highest building in Thailand at the time. Oh, the building had 49 floors! I was looking down from my office, thinking, “Good thing, I don’t have Acrophobia.” But, before my thoughts could travel, a girl who worked in office management was at my office door, informing me that my “New boss, old friend” needed to see me, ASAP.

 

“Ah! There you are. Enjoying the view? It’s only good for one thing. Do you know, what it is?” Ms. No Water.

 

“Committing suicide.” Me.

 

 

“Oh, I was going to the flood! All right. Work and work shall we? The engineers, they’re floor 27 and the modelers are on floor 25. The idiot bosses and the foremen are on floor 28. The foremen, they’re not smart. Don't hold on to them. And that is why the bosses like to keep them close. We've got 3 designers, including you, but one has just got kicked out. You have a one-year contract right now. After that, we'll decide to keep you…or you'll run away! Any questions? No! Good. Here's your first project. Good luck!! I was told that you are…somewhat insane?” Ms. No Water.

 

“???? Well…Ms. No Water, I have PTSD, OCD, and possibly autism. Oh, and I’m a slut. Just got it last week!” Me.

 

“Haaaaaa you are the right person for this project! Oh, by the way, we’re short a designer right now. And Mr. Dum, your new neighbour, is not very good with the living. Last time, he turned a 5 star hotel into a “Hotel of Steel.” You’re going to be popular! Yahooooo!” Ms. No Water.

 

Just like Professor Daddy said, “Big Shit.”

 

 

The project was simple…really, after I sat in a house that was full of Chinese…Pigs? Bone China…? And some models of…so many Chinese Buddha sculptures! I was listening to Mr. and Mrs. Believer about their new home, my project, and it sounded so elementary until...

 

 

“We have 4 children. They were born in different years. These are the instructions from our fortuneteller.” Mrs. Believer.

 

That was jumped me, the instructions of a fortuneteller? O...k! According to the fortuneteller’s manual, Mr. Believer was born in a pig zodiac, therefore he needed to sleep with his head facing 380 degrees northwest, and there were 9 family members, each with different zodiacs! Furthermore, everyone who worked for the Believer Project needed to consult with the family’s fortuneteller. Everyone who was born in a dog and a tiger zodiac was not allowed to work there because it brought Mr.

Believer…an inauspicious omen. I thought it was not going to be comfortable when he was sleeping. What if he moved his head out of the 380 degrees while he was sleeping? And I was not sure how Mr. and Mrs. Believer would do…with…hmmm “Bedtime…Stories” because he was a pig and she was a chicken? I had to inform everyone in my office, including my bosses. Turned out, Mr. Glass (new boss, old friend) was a tiger.

 

“Hey, boss. Haven’t seen you since I dropped my ass here!” Me.

 

 

“Hey boss, my ass! I haven’t seen you since you dropped your shit ass! Here, employees are looking for me! You’re not at Daddy’s office and I’m your fucking boss!” Mr. Glass.

 

“That’s why I’m here…ahhh hello! Just so you know…” Me, and a long story of the Believer Project.

 

“So, you’re not allowed at the job site. You get it?” Me.

 

 

“Ah, shit. You don’t have much discipline…do you? Well, that is my good news! Anything else I can help you with?” Mr. Glass.

 

“Ahm…yes, boss. I'm very curious, boss. How do Mr. and Mrs. Believer do the bedtime's stories? And what would happen during a bedtime story…clearly one has to get out of his or her bed…right? Hmm…do they need to ask permission from the family’s fortuneteller? Oh, and what about, a full moon or no moon?” Me.

 

 

“Get the hell out of my office!” Mr. Glass.

 

 

It was my first project for heaven’s sake! My job was to design the house, the interior, the exterior, and find an excellent builder…all in one, just like shampoo & conditioner with multivitamins. Oh, I survived the project, just like Ms. No Water said; I was the right person... Ha Ha. Most of my projects were always contrastive with the Universe somehow!

 

A respectful high society lady was sitting on her expensively decorative toilet…with me sitting on her bathroom floor, in front of her and her toilet. She kindly spread her legs for me so I could adjust an automatic bidet. That was not her fault it was the fault of the automatic toilet flusher and bidet! Well, clearly, she needed to adjust the bidet, but it was difficult for the lady to bend down, looking at her own ass…they should have designed its ability to see an ass-hole.

 

A super boxer who had won world championships wanted to create a room with…soft walls, so when he wanted to beat someone, he could punch the…magical, painless walls instead!

 

A 200-something-year-old building was curved at the front and narrowed down to its very end, at the back of the building. The owner was a newsmaker lawyer; he told me that he liked everything antique, except girls! Moreover, the building was for his new lawyer’s office and he loved to make all the walls inside as curved as possible. “Think of…or whatever it takes to make all the walls curve together with my antique collection!” he said. It took me a while to curve all that.

 

This one was…so cool. Ms. Freedom was an owner of a steel factory. The project was an interior design, a 30-million baht penthouse, which was supposed to be easy. She collected Disney toys, she loved trees, and she loved cocaine! She wanted her movable furniture’s surfaces to be made of glass for…cocaine purposes…with a hiding place for stocking drugs. She always invited me to inebriated parties. To be honest, I was drunk mostly during the project.

 

 

I was pretty much taking care of missing designer problem, I asked my bosses to hire more designers, but they could not find anyone at the time. Furthermore, Ms. No Water said, “Do you think it’s easy to find someone extremely ridiculous…like you???” That was beyond my comprehension and my exceptional contempt, so I said, “I don’t know what it means. But as far as this road goes, customers, builders, and all my bosses are psychopathic enthusiasts!!” So, she gave me a new project and a St. Bernard Dog Handbook.

 

Life sucks when it comes to love, that was what Moonlight said. She also said, “Love makes us feel ridiculous and comical! More importantly, it was rubbish when our happiness depended on somebody else entirely! Like a dog, waiting for a favourite TOY!” And that was Ms. Goodman's love theory as well. She was my customer, a large lady with large money, no children, and absolutely no husband. She also agreed with the love-philosophy of Ms. Moonlight! And that love theory sent me to my new project: a new home, which included 3 large bedrooms for Mini, Tiny, and Dwarf ...oh I forgot the word “Prince”…ok the giant…St…Prince…dogs, and trust me, you do not want to know the details!!!! I admired the rich…they were an outstanding visualization. LOVE ME…LOVE MY DOGS, P.S. the…princes needed nightlights and closets!

 

My bosses, they were….cool actually. The CEO was a mechanical engineer with a Ph.D., a super genius! Mr. Ok. He was not often seen because he was also the CEO of another company. I officially met him once and quite unofficially…

 

“Come in. I heard Mr. Glass had a new designer who breaks every rule and from the report of the office manager, your check-board was full of red flags. And you sleep here…sometimes.” Mr. Ok.

 

The check-board was a giant white, soft board, hanging in at the main entrance of the company’s building. A blue flag referred to on time, bright and shine; a yellow flag referred to just in time, lucky runner; and a red flag referred to mortification, too late. It did not actually affect me because I had my…times,

 

“With respect, Sir. Mr. Glass said, ‘Do whatever it takes to get the jobs done.’ And so far, my projects are (I wanted to say fucking nutty, but it was not a time and absolutely

 

 

not the right person) against all odds, Sir. You'd best not waste my time, Sir. I have a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Believer's fortuneteller, consulting about installing toilets, Sir!” Me.

 

“They’re right about you. Well, I know it’s ‘fucking’ otherworldly, I mean Mr. Believer’s home and the office projects. I wanted to refuse, but it’s challenging. Don’t you think? Besides, our company is supposed to make these possibilities happen. That’s why they hire us and we hire you. I was told you’re super smart and super crazy. Well, anything I can do for you. Don’t hesitate.” Mr. Ok.

 

“Can I borrow 25,000 baht? I want to buy a beetle from Mr. J. If I have the beetle, it’d help me do my jobs faster!” Me. (Mr. J was an engineer at work.)

 

“What is wrong with the office’s cars?” Mr. Ok.

 

 

“They’re never here, Sir.” Me.

 

 

“Off you go. This is the first time that my employee borrows money from me, personally!” Mr. Ok.

 

“Oh…really?” Me.

 

 

I told Ms. No Water what Mr. Ok wanted and… again she made…“Wide mouth with full engine…of laughter!” Later that week, I got a black envelope, which was delivered by Mr. Ok’s personal assistant. I was in my own mind and minding my own business under my desk…in my office; my desk-girl who was supposed to be my secretary (I know it was complicated, well, she only knew how to paint her face!) came rushing into my office and told me that Mr. Ok’s personal assistant came to see me.

Meanwhile, Mr. Ok’s personal assistant was already in my office, looking for me. I told him I liked to think under my desk, so he handed me the black envelope!

 

“What is it about being under the desk, anyway?” The assistant.

 

 

“Processing! Someone likes to pop up in here…too much! And they interrupt my imaginations. Shoo…!” Me.

 

I was staring at the envelope, thinking why….black…fired? I needed to call Professor Daddy…to see if I got yelling at.

 

“What the hell! Really? You’re mocking your CEO…and you borrowed money…you must have lost your bloody head somewhere, huh!” Professor Daddy.

 

“Well, looking for a taxi was bloody industrious. And the not-smart foremen took all the vehicles out all day. When I needed to run to job sites, I never found one available. And once, I sent one of them…you know, the not-smart foremen...to talk to an electrical company at a job site, and somehow the bloody job site turned into a barn fire!” Me.

 

Finally, I opened the envelope; it was a 25,000 baht cheque with a note, ah…It was not like… Fifty Shades, it was…

 

“I guess you’re curious about the envelope. Here is the catch

If you survive a year here, the beetle is your.

Your CEO

P.S the envelope was a…joke! Ha..Ha”

I had reached an understanding of what Professor Daddy meant when he said, “It is the right place for you!” I am a shocking outrageous specialist!

 

The other bosses were Mr. Glass, Ms. No Water, and Mr. Cute: the exclusive- manager of the engineers. Mr. Glass and Ms. No Water graduated from the same school as mine, but over 15 years before I was a freshman. They both liked to taunt children, therefore they always reverted to the school at the time of home welcoming and the idea of catching and painting the dogs was Mr. Glass's!

 

Ms. No Water was a great, great granddaughter of the king of old time who had been gossiped, as a lonely man. The whisperer said he had at least 100 wives and the last

 

 

wife was 14 years old from the north had spent a year traveling by boat from 700 km away to Bangkok for her wedding. Clearly, she was really in love with him! Ms. No Water said, “The only good thing about being royalty is…I can say shit anywhere and no one knows!!!”

 

And Mr. Cute, he was handsome and tall for an Asian. I only saw him at or in the building’s elevator! My first time at the elevator…with him, in the morning was…

 

“Crazy traffic. Hey, you’re the new girl, right? The crazy one.” Mr. Cute.

 

 

“Ah….huh. Who the hell are you?” Me.

 

 

“Oh…(hand out ready to be shaken), I’m one of your bosses. Aren’t you supposed to know that?” Mr. Cute.

 

“Shit…Oh, sorry, Sir. I’m quite…very occupied at the moment, Sir. Don’t have time for a family tree…Sir!” Me. And handshake.

 

After that day, we were having quick conversations in the elevator from time to time. He said he liked talking to me because my reputation served me well! One time, he asked me what was the exact part of my job that I hated the most. So, I had to tell him,

 

“That is very difficult to say, Sir. I have to talk to customers, do some sketches, talk to our builders and back to customers, try to persuade them, this is the best of the best and…the painting, the drafting, the builders, the colour, the wood, the fabric…and bed, bath, and beyond!!!!! In addition, I’ve needed to consult with a fortuneteller, a boxer trainer, a dog’s trainer, and a bug’s trainer? I haven’t decided yet, which part. Did I mention about my bosses too?” Me.

 

After I finished my sentences, the elevator had reached floor 26 so I bid him a good day. On one good day, the elevator’s abnormal daily conversation turned to a childbirth conversation.

 

“What do you think? We’ll always be your family.” Mr. Cute.

 

 

 

“Sir? You want to put….Your Sperm…through my cervix with a big giant needle? Are you sure this is the right place for this conversation?” Me.

 

I thought he was nuts, picking me for the job! He agreed that we should get together sometime, and the sometime was on that weekend. It was dinner at a marvelous restaurant. I was looking around and following a receptionist to Mr. Cute's table. Out of the corner of my eye was a vision that led me to think I could not survive the night. My CEO and Mr. Cute…seriously, what was wrong with us?…I meant women. Well, Mr. Ok was there…so I needed to let the freak out, and that was what I was thinking before I reached them.

 

Our dinner conversations were…coming from a strong emotional state…the same as…my food!

 

“Mr. Ok. Mr. Cute…Sirs. Are you sure I’m the right one for the job?...Sir. As I’m…AKA….Crazy And The Bitch. Besides, we’re bloody crazy busy right now. In my experience, having a baby and combining the baby with crazy busy days is…actually not my choice of ingredients…Sir. My friend, Mr. Cross; his parents were divorced. His mother was remarried to Mr. Johnnie Walker Black Label, pretty much busy. His father was remarried to a businesswoman, who is even more crazy busy. However, they must have loved him because they gave him everything he wanted. I learnt how to play guitar because of him, oh, and how to play PlayStation 1. I liked Harvest Moon. It’s fun; my husband in the Harvest Moon was an owner of a tavern! Anyways, Mr. Cross was bored and lonely. So, he decided to move back home and stay with Lucifer. Am I going to get paid? You know, during pregnancy…off work, if you decide to give me the baby project, I have to go to Japan after this accomplishment, bosses.” Me.

 

“Why Japan?” Mr. OK.

 

 

“Well, they have the muscular tube makeover! You see, nothing comes in yet, but your baby gonna come, crawling out? Can you understand why we have a vagina makeover, doctors?” Me.

 

 

I did not hear anything about the baby maker project anymore, but I was hanging out with them…actually, with all my bosses from time to time. They were good bosses, so I took advantage of our relationship, which was the bosses’ power… and everyone did what I told them to do...awesome! The 26th floor was fortissimo by me and, of course, I became Mr. Hardly, my draft tutor, who liked to name me in the different angles of brainless interpretation and teach some F-words. In a hysterical way, I thought he was in love with me! Every technique and idea he taught me helped me a lot when I had my thick-headedness under my command.

 

In 1992, my country became an international headline. Actually we attempted a few times before. Finally, in 1992, we achieved…the world headline Of “Black May”!

 

Black May or Bloody May is a common name for between 17 and 20 May 1992’s popular protest in Bangkok against the…king of the throne, General Suchinda Kraprayoon and the military…and the crackdown that followed. Up to 200,000 people demonstrated in central Bangkok at the height of the…ready-to-die protests. The military crackdown resulted in 52 “officially confirmed deaths,” many disappearances, hundreds of injuries, and over 3,500 arrests. And those who were arrested were allegedly inflicted with severe pain!!

 

All that, I was so proud! The only problem was the information, it was not accurate, there were more deaths, more missing people, and more fun than what was reported. May 19, 1992, while Moonlight and I were flying Ms. Lady (my beetle), my cellular phone yelled; back at that time, cell phones were a new and they were extremely large…

 

“Hey, Balloon, where the fuck are you?” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

 

“In Ms. Lady. Flying. Why?” Me.

 

 

“I need you now. I’m at the protests. Why didn’t you pick up the bloody phone?” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

 

“Well, we just got back into Ms. Lady and it’s impossible for me to carry this giant…military mayday box while I’m walking! By the way, I call it Giant. Coz it sounds cool when someone says, ‘Can I borrow your giant?’ He he.” Me.

 

“Ok…ok, get your ass here now. I need your support. And some food!” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

So, I was there and dragged Moonlight with me…undeniably! We did not care about the protests, or the action expressing disapproval, I was there because of Mr. Moody Be Good, and Moonlight was there because she was inside Ms. Lady with me! Ms. Lady’s speakers informed us that it was getting very, very…hypersensitive at the protests, but I did not care. I Need You Now changed Ms. Lady from a donkey into a fast and furious road machine.

 

About 5:00 or 6:00 pm, we were on one side of a public bus, and on the other side of the bus were people walking around leisurely. The speakers, which had been set to the area, were singing national songs…and we sat there eating Mc. Donalds! I had not finished with Mr. Mc. Donalds yet when I heard a sound of an explosion. My brain responded like an animal’s response to a certain stimulus: Stand Up! There was a….I was pretty sure, it was a …bomb? Well, it was a cookie jar with smiling emoji faces, burning between those soldiers and us. I told my friends to get up simultaneously…hmm…with a sound of a gun, which was fired from a building in the area, and then, everything went from the sound of music to the sound of hellfire!

 

There were guns fired, pieces of wood, knives and everything that could be possibly be transfigured into something that could inflict bodily harm. The protesters did not have high-technology weapons like the officers on the opposite side (who were sworn to serve and protect us, but not today). The protesters’ weapons were from before…1000 BC? I wanted to ask Mr. Moody Be Good if it was ok to change sides. But by that time, many people were behind the bus with us, so I did not think it was a good idea to ask and it was definitely not a good place! Then a T-XXX-something battle tank came, and I said to my friends that the fun time was over and we needed to go.

However, Mr. Moody Be Good wanted to see the thing through to the end, so I told him that if he goes to hell, to say hi to Mr. Cross for me.

 

 

 

Ms. Lady was about a 30-minute walk from the protest area, and when we reached Ms. Lady, my Giant (cellular phone) was yelling…again, and it was my maker. Since I had my beetle and bloody heavy cell phone, she called me weekly or more, I told myself if I had to hire a secretary…again, definitely, she would not look like my desk girl.

 

“Where the hell are you? I’ve been calling for 3 hours.” The mother.

 

 

“Well, why don’t you tell me, what do you want?” Me.

 

 

“Where!!!!!??” The mother, with her special gifted.

 

 

“At the protests.” Me.

 

 

“Are you a fucking idiot? You get back here. I need to stock some food. In case, the protests are going too long!” The mother.

 

The reason Mr. Glass gave me the giant cell phone was because the pagers, which he gave me, were in my…aquarium. Well, we lived in Bangkok City, where was dominated by the world’s worst traffic! I did not think it was appropriate for anyone to page me under any circumstances!

 

The next day, we all got together at Mr. Moody Be Good’s place. I also invited Professor Daddy, Mr. Glass, and Ms. No Water. It was necessary…it had to be Mr. Moody Be Good’s place…mmm…It was…something to do with… smoke on the water,

…weeds time!

 

 

“Hey, Balloon. You know the bus, which we were hiding behind? It was flying apart like BOOM! I moved further away after you left. Shit, if you had not left, we would have been with Mr. Cross! Thanks!” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

According to the news of the incident, the first...boom during Mr. Mc. Donalds picnic date was from nobody, and the first gun fired was from nobody as well. Good

 

 

News! While we were drinking smoking and talking, the protests moved to Ramkhamhang Road, where Mr. Moody Be Good’s house was, and…us! So close to the T-XXX-something battle tank. I was thinking, we were missed…very, very badly missed! I had been told different theories about who was the bomb man or gunman.

Some theories had said, “The protesters don’t want to go to work so, they did it!!” Me too, I was stuck with my project, a parking lot with animals in it. After listening to the theories of a mystery man or woman, I came to believe in 2 theories, which were truthfully convincing.

 

In the first theory, the mystery man or woman was a copycat, a third party of….hell…and he or she were hired by businessmen because the general disturbed their businesses and asked for too many donations. Another said it was a third-hand, possibly CIA, KGB…MIM…BMW?…Whatever! They just wanted to know what was going to happen and they supported one side or both sides.

 

The consequences were unforgettable. Over 10,000 people were killed or beaten and over 2,000 people were missing according to a Thai journalist who was with the protests through to the end. Later on, he was missing too. (An honest person told me, and I believed honest people more than mass communication.)

 

I had never been interested in either politics or politicians…shit, because they seem to be the same and everyone who becomes a politician, becomes rich. They claimed that they had been doing their best for the good of the people, for example, healthcare. I was thinking wow…finally something actually happened because we never had healthcare before. Well, 30 baht hospital care was what they called it, which we paid only 30 baht for all treatments…WOW, never been cheaper, turned out it was only for something like…cold, cough, and flu too? I doubt it! I had a chance to talk to a politician through my work once.

 

“Well, Sir. What happens, if I have bronchogenic carcinomas and no money? Can I come to you?” Me.

 

“No, and what the hell is bronchogenic carcinomas?” The Politician.

 

 

“Oh, it’s lung cancer. What am I going to do, if it happens when I don’t have money

…Sir?” Me.

 

 

“Then you’re fucked!” The Politician.

 

 

I was thinking, really, all my income taxes, which I had paid, turned into “You are fucked!” Honestly, I did not understand at all…governors, politicians, businessmen, women, and whoever else is rich.

 

I understand that sometimes corruption, lying, betrayal, and conspiracy were necessary if it was the right circumstance. Somehow, I had had some benefit of that when I was in school! However, why they could not do their shit in…NO HARM DONE! Surely.

 

There were professionals, such as doctors, lawyers, engineers, architects, and more…at the protests. When clever people get together in the middle of the city with actions expressing disapproval or objection to whoever sits on the throne and…put their heads together in the middle of the road, don’t you think someone should be listening? Governors!

 

After a year and 6 months, I was thinking, maybe it was time to think about what was next. I met an owner of a factory, Mr. Kind, on a project I was working on. He said to me I should have learnt about how things were made. His factory manufactured some construction materials, such as cement, steel, and wood; he also had a furniture factory. He asked me if I wanted to work for him and…learn, he said, to run my own company. Therefore, it came to…challenges, my bosses…hmm! After hours of talking and money offering, I did not understand why it was so hard to let me go, everyone broke someone’s heart, intentionally or unintentionally. Besides, I was a horrible employee and every time I looked at the check-board unintentionally, my flags were all red… a whole bloody month! Did I mention Ozzy Osbourne when he came to work with me…often? That was what I tried to tell my bosses, so they realized that the chick wanted to fly! After I finished my…reasons, they gave me another hour of speeches on the shield of life, they said it was necessary, in case someone wanted to stab me in my back….OH!

 

 

Rule Number 1

 

 

“You need to be vigilant as always. Everything and everyone needs to be examined. 90% of people come to you because they want something more than they will say. Oh, try to keep Mr. Lunatic inside and…in check, would you?” Professor Daddy.

 

Rule Number 2

 

 

“Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment. And don't listen to your employees about anything that is not related to work. You can like them, but don’t hate them. As long as they do excellent work, you just need to tolerate them…just as I did you.” Mr. Ok, the CEO.

 

Rule Number 3

 

 

“Check your psyche balance. Trust in your intelligence. Know who you actually are.” Mr. Cute.

 

Ok, Mr. Cute, he was not straightforward, was he? I was not sure, how I was going to keep my psyche in balance. Inside my head has 2 residents, Mr. Lunatic and Ms. Conscience, and most of the time, they fight! Furthermore, how could I possibly trust my intelligence, I did not…really…have much and, during most of the dark times, Mr. Lunatic was the one who saved the day…in the scary way! And know who I am? Oh boy, that would be impossible, as I have 2 healthy and very active residents inside my cerebrum. The cerebrum is the principal and most anterior part of the brain in vertebrates, located in the front area of the skull and consisting of “Two Hemispheres,” left and right, separated by a fissure. It is responsible for the integration of complex sensory and neural functions, and the initiation and coordination of voluntary activity in the body, including sight. Can you see the impossible?? When the residents brawl!!

 

The day of my leaving, the office manager gave me a red flag; Ms. No Water and Mr. Glass gave me a project! They said it was a gift and they had told the owner of the project that I was perfect for the job. In that moment, I knew, I was not able to run away from my bosses until they actually said goodbye to the earth. So, I was good to go,

 

 

learning, doing some work at home, and working at Mr. Kind’s 4 days a week. To have Mr. Kind and his brother as my bosses was extremely easy, they were just like…my old bosses, No Harm Done! My job was the designs…and no…no furniture designs, and that was our agreement!

 

“Well, you can design a whole fucking house. Why can’t you design furniture? What is the bloody problem?” Mr. Kind.

 

“I don’t like product design and it was not my second major. A wise man said…you should not trust someone to do the job when they said they don't like the…job…Boss!” Me.

 

“You should have learnt the product design. You’ll never know what’s coming. And what the hell did you take?” Mr. Kind.

 

“Ahuh. I took art history and photography because I didn’t fit in with the product design chicks; I don’t know how to do the giggling and brushing. It looked too…frustrating for me…Boss.” Me.

 

Mr. Kind thought it was useless to take those subjects. Well, Professor Daddy insisted and he had books and a camera for borrowing, so why not??? Two months later, some of the furniture I drew on draft-paper magically appeared in the showroom of the company.

 

“Boss. What the fuck! Your customers will kill you. What is the bloody point of hiring a designer if their homes look like your bloody showroom????” Me.

 

“Hey, I’m your boss. Try to remember that! And don’t be stupid. We’re not a big money like your previous pretty bosses. I did my best and the customers are happy. The rest, the designs, the ideas, and your head are mine, except your pretty ass. But, if you want your ass to be mine too, the door is always open!” Mr. Kind. *-*!

 

Like I said, my bosses were having the same sickness…like mine, but with a different….perspective. After 6 months, I was too busy with all my work so I had to

 

 

leave Mr. Kind's company; however, I still did the design for him and he was still making the furniture from my drawings. I told him that one day he was going to get beaten!

 

About a year later, Moonlight got a new job in the north…again, bigger embassy, better possibility and better pay. So, we had to do a long-distant relationship. First, it was brutal. I called her when Mr. Lunatic in my head wanted to talk to someone who understood him, and she called me when she thought her OCD was out and transformed to a ghost. Oh, we were on two phones until she fell asleep! We saw each other twice a month, and it was feeling like...

 

“Hey, Moony. I’m feeling like I just got married. This long-distance relationship feels like, ‘For the better and for the worst for…. Ahmm? ….Whatever the fuck is…’ Don’t you think baby?” Me.

 

“You get used to it! I know it’s shit for you to understand what it means to commit to the ‘Whatever the fuck is?’ after your long loving family and I don’t blame you, but please…don’t be such a fucking bitch.” Moonlight.

 

Sometimes, many times, I worried that I might have mystically influenced Moonlight and her behaviour…in the hell way!!

 

About a year later, Mr. Kind told me that he bought a 3-storey home and office building; it was near Mr. Moody Be Good’s place and the mother’s…Hmm they lived in the same area! Mr. Kind asked me if I wanted to share…rent? He only wanted the first floor for a new showroom, which I needed to design ASAP! I only said one word after he finished his proposals, YES. It was pretty close to the city and super cheap for 2 floors, which were my living and my company…I know…going too fast? After I moved in…not too long after, I established a company named InFact. And…I stole one of Mr. Kind’s woodworkers…that was what he said! We had been arguing for years.

 

Giant was his name, he was working for Mr. Kind for only 2 years and so was his brother. He did not like to work with his brother who had more years of experiences with wood. I did not get into the detail because that was the rule of being a boss, Mr.

 

 

Ok’s version. I only knew that his brother liked to mock him. Then he heard from Mr. Kind about my company.

 

“Can I work for you?” Giant.

 

 

“Well, Giant. First, I need to talk to Mr. Kind. You better hope he won’t kill us here and feed us to the…never mind. And…You might…be starving or dying. I cannot guarantee that I’ll always have jobs. Most importantly…just so you know, I’m insane.” Me.

 

“I’m ok with that.” Giant.

 

 

“Think about it before you make your decision. I love to have you, but you need to think what you’re into. It’s a fucking huge decision to leave Mr. Kind. Get it??.

Thickhead!” Me.

 

 

That was what actually happened! Before I had time to talk to Mr. Kind, it was too late. I could hear him screaming his ass off and that screaming was from a destination more than 50 meters away from me. With the words “Where is the fucking little bitch…?!!!!” Giant wanted to leave the bean, what could Mr. Kind do? …that was what I told him. At my own company, we did not do exterior construction, only interior because it required a large fund for job sites and construction workers were…too precarious for me. Mr. Lunatic said it was not a good idea because I might have been someplace beyond recognition. Carpenters were more disciplined, however, workers were workers, their limitation of understanding of…everything was slim and, of course, they were tricky and drunken. But Mr. Lunatic and Ms. Conscience were talking all day…in my skull, so I was doing just a blue ribbon… such as…

 

“What the fuck are you doing? It’s 1:30 pm and you’re all supposed to be working!!!!! Sleepy…shit!” Me. Picking up a wood stick!!

 

A long stick…made of wood, which I turned on them. “You are all dead!” And I beat them. After that, I bought them…ice cream! Mr. Kind said it was brainless and I might have been dead soon, but I had Giant, he was 1.80 meters something tall and he

 

 

was…giant, black skin, skinhead…and he did not like to smile. It took me quite a while to unscare myself of death.

 

 

 

After a couple of years, I had 30 employees for my yelling along with their children and wives. Moreover, I had a unique employee, the brother. Did I tell you that life was full of surprises? It was an unexpected situation. I went to the mother’s house and got her some groceries, my new part-time job since I moved into my shared-rent home-office. It was a 5-minute drive to her place when traffic was wow, and 30 minutes when traffic was…fucked.

 

It was around 2:00 pm (the brother’s coke and popcorn moment), and I do not understand until this day what had gone wrong with Mr. Lunatic or me that day, it was hmmm…

 

“Can you please get the fuck up, and do something, so that your dick-head can have a hole to put in. Have you ever used it yet? I doubt it!” Me.

 

The consequence of my doll's head moment, there he was, in my office, changing place for coke and popcorn. Did I tell you sometime he came to work with his mammy? When the day was like that, I had become an employee and my employees had become a diehard. Therefore, I had to…authorizationally fire him by using FedEx. Well, they were unsoundly mad, but I was more psychopathic. The reason I fired him was uncomplicated, I did not want to deal with anything that was causing my forehead to wrinkle like a bulldog.

 

The business was going well and I was growing improvement of my insanity by meeting people through business and it was…idiosyncratic and delusional expertise… I loved it! In the schizophrenia way, they were causing laughter. For example, Mr. Pencil, who was an owner of a rubber factory, was an imaginable man. When I got a phone call from Ms. No Water I knew, it was a time for my freak show.

 

I was standing on one side of a standard swimming pool, which was 25 meters in length and known as the Short Course Meter or SCM Pool. I was looking at 2 gigantic

 

 

fishes from Africa. They were similar to sturgeon fish except for the faces, more like catfish and about 3 or 4 meters long. One was white and another was gray. I was thinking of a cartoon on television I saw once. The drawing of the cartoon was a big shark, mouth opened and showing bony enamel coated structures in its big jaw along with a young girl’s head…half in its mouth and her eyes were popping out…in a living room!

 

Moreover, he had 2 of the world’s smallest full-grown dogs and he wanted to build a new house with Disney’s princess castle inside for those dogs (a Canadian friend said once, little dogs are good for kicking) and, of course, a new fantastic pond for those fishes.

 

“Are you sure, you’re old enough for this job?” Mr. Pencil.

 

 

“Don’t worry, Sir. I’ve seen worse! But, thank you for your concern…Sir!!” Me. (Very nice of him to worry about me!!)

 

Ms. On Time, who hated to be late, the job was simple, build a house, in and out and breakfast parties at 5:00 am…in the morning. All that, it was absolutely never better for me until the late came…It was an 8:00 pm meeting at her new house, which was opposite the one she was living in. I reached there at 8:05 pm and I saw that she started walking toward me, as I did her. And when we reached each other, a public 1.2 million residents phone book flew its way and landing on my little poor feet along with Ms. On Time’s “Foot Dance.” When the job was finished, she wanted me to re-interior her offices. I had to say no because I was not sure what would have happened to me if I was there at 8:30 pm that evening. I genuinely thought it was my fault; she did not have to jump up and down like a little bitch could not have a candy if I had listened carefully…!

 

“Oh, thank God. You are here. No one wants to work here!” Ms. On Time.

 

 

Three years later, all businesses in Thailand had gone from another day in paradise to another day in a place regarded in various religions as a realm of evil and suffering. It was something to do with the US dollar being inflated and the effectuations

 

 

were…let’s just say…as funny as hell. The potency effect was called IMF (International Monetary Fund) increased an unimaginable cerebral cortex (the part of the brain that regulates most complex behaviours). Almost weekly, I heard the news of a businessman who jumped off some business building or car park building or a million-dollar condominium and even a hospital building!!! The other businessmen who did not want to look like fish in a can…they used the most famous killing machine, GUNS. And the killing took place at home, hotel, office, shopping center, supermarket, restaurant, and ice cream shop! I had to admit that I admired them, why not? If I wanted to jump off myself to where most people do not want to go, a hospital would have been a good place. I was thinking, “Hey, that was the good idea of an expressible intellect. Besides, the morgue was just right there. So…convenient…! “But, shoot myself in an ice cream shop??…Naaa, did not want to scare the kids.”

 

I was infected by IMF disease too. I had to make two settlements with my customers because their cheques came back as insufficient funds; of course, I let Mr. Lunatic do the jobs. Later, one of my customers whom I had a settlement with, was dead in a disco club… by his own gun. I thought, “Money could contaminate our organs huh. Better be careful what I want.” I did not want to die in a disco club. It is too noisy!

 

I was thinking of my employees and myself…everywhere there were the same problems. My crazy bosses were thinking the same thing too. Ms. No Water moved up north because her husband was a northerner and she opened a new company. Mr. Glass had become a professor in the north of the same city as Ms. No Water. Mr. Ok and Mr. Cute were still running their company, but only engineering.

 

A year later, after I had done the rest of my projects, I gave all the equipment to Giant and the extra money to all of my employees. They wanted me to wait, hoping the business would be better in a short time, but I told them, “It’s fucking serious, dude!! Use the money wisely.” Have you ever seen a giant cry? It was not easy for me either, they were bloody stupid, annoying, clumsy, and ate like pigs, but they were loyal people and they liked to work for me because I took them to…strip bars…occasionally.

Workers in my country are uneducated and they do what they are doing without any licenses, only with experience, and the older workers are better than the young. They lack discipline…like bloody teens, but I used King Arthur’s version to protect them!

 

 

 

 

I went to the north because Moonlight and Mr. Glass convinced me. So, there I was, uncertain of what to do next, but I had some money left over after everything…good for now! Mr. Glass got me a job that I had never…ever…thought about in my little bug’s head before.

 

“Ahhh…How am I gonna do that? I don’t have teaching experience and I positively don’t look like Yale or Oxford.” Me.

 

“Don’t be such an idiot. Freshmen are stupid. How hard would it be?” Professor Glass.

 

 

“I don’t have the master’s degree. To be like… you.” Me.

 

 

“Oh, Daddy’s right about you. Doll’s head you are. Talking to you makes me giddy. I put you in a drawing class for the freshmen and in art history for the second year.” Professor Glass.

 

“Oh…hell. Don’t tell me you’re gone…cuckoo. Art history? Are you trying to kill yourself…by using me? You know, right? My anomalous memory only lasts for a while. And I only took art history for 2 years because it was cheap to be my second major!

What am I going to say if students ask me something I don’t know? Or something that already dumped me long…ago.” Me.

 

“Well, for everything you don’t know the answer you say, “What do you think?” then “That’s your subject to look up…chick’s head.” Make yourself look like a genius- marketing ploy. Trust me, they don’t know. It works every time! Hey, you can do it. I would not worry if I were you!” Professor Glass.

 

“Thanks, boss…professor…That was a very…reassuring and intelligent idea for our next generation by putting their future into my hands!!” Me.

 

Apparently, Professor Glass knew the Big Man and I got a job! Everything was possible at the time when someone knew someone…Moonlight also convinced me to

 

 

take my head-less off my shoulder and study more English. All right then…no problem! English it was.

 

Up north, Chiang Mai is the largest city of the north, it used to be…noiseless, boobs-less, ass-less, less of tourists, the traffic was better than Bangkok City, and the weather was not hot like this day. In winter, flowers were out to say hi, farang tourists (“farang” is Thai terminology for everyone who looks like North Americans or Europeans) were turning themselves into alcoholics because the weather was right for drinking. It was a good place to sink down my ass: the mountains, the rivers, the waterfalls, the dancers and…the smoke on the water, so cool! If you want to know more about Chiang Mai City, please visit Mr. Google…he knows everything!

 

Moonlight and I bought a 670-square-foot apartment when she moved to Chiang Mai. I did not like it because of the noise, but it was close to the embassy where she worked. After 2 weeks, my Wernicke’s area had deprived the power of sensation, so I was looking for someplace soundless. Ms. No Water had a friend who had a small house on a mountain behind a university for rent. It was dreamily bloody cheap; the only problem was water. I had to buy water for cleaning my teeth, cooking, and drinking.

The actual water supply was from a large waterfall on the top of the mountain…someone might have pissed in it…you know! Moreover, the house included companies, birds, chickens, deer, and a python!!!!!…After I heard about the python, I told the owner, “Awesome,” and the next day, I moved in with no hesitation.

 

The house itself was half concrete, half wood, more like a cabin, literally mounted by its foundation into the mountain. It was a 2-storey house with teak wood furniture. Each floor had a room about 12 meters long and 7 meters in width. Outside the room on the second floor was a big balcony and a stairway, which was the only way to get to the second floor. The only difference between the 2 floors was the material, the first floor was concrete and the second floor was all woody. I changed my balcony to a waterproof balcony, so I could set a small kitchen under my balcony and lock the room, which I did not use, too lazy to clean it.

 

There were 4 houses in the area like the one I rented. We could not see each other because of trees and small plants. Actually, the houses belonged to our government,

 

 

built for the officers of environment conservation, but their small income was not enough… so some of the officers who had been given the house came up with plan B…rent them out!

 

I worked 3 days a week, I had a lot of time and my income was enough for living on, so I did some discovery for my abnormal curiosity, and it was necessary to start with how human's believe in and worship a superhuman controlling power, especially a personal God, a peculiar system of faith. I knew that sounded pretty much…crazy! “But what the hell?” I thought it was a good idea to get to know… the…ordinary human beings! As I did not have mommy and daddy…teatome?…therefore I learnt from everyone who seemed more enlightened. I did not want to grow up dull-witted, and all the discovery ideas had something to do with an understanding of what was the bloody point…of being a human.

 

After 2 weeks of my arrival, I started looking for an English language school, I was warned that I had to be careful about my choices because I might have spoken to something that was not human communication! Got it. At the time, there were not many language schools, but there were a lot of unauthenticated schools. However, after 12 schools, I found number 13, which understood my Mr. Lunatic! It belonged to one of Australia’s universities!

 

Three months later, I could function in English better than I ever could, especially reading, it was something to do with Pink Floyd, or Led Zeppelin, or maybe Ozzy. Moonlight thought I liked Ozzy because I am as crazy as him! The same with books, I liked Stephen King because the words he was using had caused the irony.

Stephen King was an English teacher; his aptitude of amalgamating was quite sardonic exquisiteness. Some native English people who like his books told me that his works were…AKA “Stephen King’s English.”

 

I had been told that the speedy way to understand languages was having a native- language boyfriend or hanging out with native speakers or using Internet communication. Oh, having a farang boyfriend did not seem to be my option at the time; not many Thai people had the ability to understand me, how the hell could

 

 

someone who was native possibly understand! Besides, I always believed “Love will find the way,” so never mind the survey!

 

Hanging out with the natives seemed to be easier, as we had a lot of farang tourists between October through February. After that, no one wanted to die through submersion in an inhalation of his or her own sweat. I told Moonlight I should have gone to town and trapped one of the tourists, put him or her in my empty room downstairs, but I did not know which one spoke English. “You're a very fucking freak. Do you know?” Moonlight's suggestion? After the first 2 modus operandi no longer seemed reliable, I decided Internet communication was my last hope.

 

At the time, computers were limited options, with no cameras and no speakers.

We could send pictures and our personal profiles on some websites, such as MSN, Yahoo, and ICQ messengers, so people who were sitting behind their monitors on another side of the world could get to know us. I was thinking, “Thanks, Lucifer. Something is a lot easier than kidnapping the tourists.” However, this was how the Internet communication went,

 

“Hi, how’re you?” A native English.

 

 

“Oh…I’m fine. Thank you and you?” Me.

 

 

“Cool. What is your name?” The native English.

 

 

“My name is Aye. Are you cold??” Me.

 

 

“Jason here. Nice to meet you.” Jason.

 

 

“Nice to meet you too Jason. Where are you from?” Me.

 

 

“U.S.A. Do you like Americans?” Jason.

 

 

That was grueling to answer, how did I know? Hadn’t met once!

 

 

“Don’t really know. Do you?” Me.

 

 

“????. Do you want to see my cock?” Jason.

 

 

“COCK? What is it?” Me. (New English speaker, hello!)

 

 

A few minutes later, a low-standard penis was on my chat screen…

 

 

“That is not a cock, Jason. That is a sparrow!!!! *_*” Me.

 

 

 

I remember once after my English was… ready to be tested! Moonlight and I were on a beach and there were 2 young boy tourists lying on the sand near us. A young girl who was giving hmmm…beach massage, asked the tourist boys if they would like to have a massage. The conversation between the girl and the tourist boys was….

 

“What is your name?” Boy 1.

 

 

“Me.” The girl, with massage service.

 

 

“Yes…you, what is your name?” Boy 2.

 

 

“Me.” The girl, with massage service.

 

 

Before the 2 boys were going to say anything else,

 

 

“Her name is…. Me…hmmm hello.” Me. Moonlight was…chuckle!

 

 

“Oh…I see.” The boys

 

 

“It’s very hot today, don’t you think?” The boy 1, talking to me and…

 

 

“Do you want a Blow Job??” The girl, with massage service.

 

 

“Here….?” The boy 1, with an expression of an act of becoming….comedy.

 

 

“Ahmm…sir! She means Fanning, not Sucking!” Me. Moonlight was breaking an echo of the breach…and no one missed it.

 

Please forgive our…second-language-people!!!

 

 

I had to come up with some solutions because a second language was not something to do alone, so I made friends with my English teachers. I thought, well, they were native English and English teachers; my possibility of English failure would be…tiny? I started planning my conspiracy of “Friendship.”

 

First, I read something I knew in English and remembered all those vocabularies. Second, I invited my teachers for the original Thai traditional dinner, where they had to sit on my balcony floor with their own asses. And then, I tried to talk about something I just read, so I could carry on the conversation...it was a perfect plan! Later on, I did not need to invite them; they just made themselves at home, using my spare room for parties, drinking, and drugs! Mission accomplished!

 

Meet my neighbours: the house next to mine was another rental, Mr. Hemp. He was an English man from Manchester, England, and he had a hemp business in England. He told me that he hired his friend to run his shop when he was in Thailand and he was a weed lover. Next to Mr. Hemp was rented by a family who made hemp clothing for Mr. Hemp…mammy, daddy and 2 teenage boys…Oh, and Spider…a dog. The last house was an officer of the forest who loved singing under moonlight…clamorously.

 

My relationship with my neighbour was….let’s just say it went well. Every Friday, we all got together, including the 2 boys, for tea, dessert, and marijuana. Moonlight said to me, “You know, baby. Every time when we’re together, hell follows!”

 

I got along with all…my teachers and everyone in my English school, especially the manager of the school! He was an Australian man who loved my place…so much,

 

 

and as long as the parties went, our relationship was. illuminated! Mr. Clean was his

name; one afternoon, he asked me if I wanted to help out a group of people from NGOs.

 

 

NGOs are non-governmental organizations, or nongovernment organizations, commonly referred to as NGOs, they are usually non-profit and

sometimes international organizations independent of governments and international governmental organizations, although often funded by governments. NGOs are active in humanitarian, educational, healthcare, public policy, social, human rights, environmental, and other areas to effect changes according to their objectives.

 

Well, we did not do well with the government, so why not try nongovernment! So, Moonlight and I were some of the people who volunteered to work with the NGOs…more like babysit. We got 4 babies. Joshy: a drop-dead gorgeous surgical doctor from Europe. Doctor Cry: a cute physician from Australia. Mr. Lovely: a nurse from Europe. And Mr. Keep: a builder from Australia. Our job was making sure that they were not starving or dying or missing. Moonlight said I was the right one to introduce us…Hmm. Ok.

 

“Hello everyone, we’re your…babysitter, Aye. And this is Moonlight.” Me.

 

 

“Babysit? Why do we need a babysitter?” Joshy.

 

 

“Well. Mr. pretty face. Do you know where to go?” Me.

 

 

“Ah…” Joshy, with his eyes and mouth spread out in 360 degrees…cycling.

 

 

“Ah….What? Well, pretty head, our job is to make sure you won’t starve or die or go missing or whatever is harmful. So, do you know where your apartment is? No. Where to find food? No. Hospitals? No. Babysit it is…hopeless….I thought you’re supposed to be brainy. Is something wrong with your cerebellum? Doc?” Me.

 

“Ok…Ok, Aye, cut the crap. Sorry, Doc. She’s weird, but super nice. Get used to it.” Mr. Clean.

 

 

“You do know doctor terminologies huh. Is your boyfriend a doctor?” Joshy.

 

 

“Seriously, why do you think women's intelligence has to be under a cock?…Dollop! If you don't mind, please move your asses to that van, at the front gate.” Me.

 

Everyone looked…confused and that was my intention, I liked making them...woozy. I was pretty sure, those NGOs babies probably thought, “Malicious Bitch!” But, just about to reach the van, Joshy said,

 

“Hey, you know what? I like you already. I think we are going to be good friends.” Joshy.

 

“Doc! That is just too sorrow…” Me.

 

 

Two weeks later, the NGOs started working; their project was to help people on the border between Thailand and Myanmar. We call them mountain people…I am not sure why they do not have a country to call on. The Burmese do not want them and every time when the mountain people tried to grow some crops, the Burmese practiced their weapons on them. So, our government let them stay in the mountains where it belongs to us, but the government would not let them have Thai identification because they are not Thai-born.

 

It was not a good time at the border; we seemed to have a lot of problems. We also make camps for Cambodians because of the Cambodian-Vietnamese War from 1979 to 1991. Between 1992 and 1993, Cambodia was governed by a United Nations mission. The UN withdrew after holding elections in which around 90 percent of the registered voters cast ballots. The 1997 coup placed power solely in the hands of Prime Minister Hun Sen and the Cambodian People’s Party, who remain in power as of 2017. From then until now, many people from Cambodia moved to the camps and they still need help.

 

Sometime Moonlight and I went with the NGOs….yes to the mountains, I knew how to build shit and she knew how to speak in 5 freaking languages. So I made friends

 

 

with the NGOs and yes, they loved my place… I think it was something to do with the python!

 

My most regular visitor was Joshy; he was from Europe where a city is full of histories, arts, music, tits, and asses. He had just finished his surgical practice and wanted to use his chopping skill for good. He told me he did not know about Southeast Asia or many places. Moreover, after he met me he was gone crazy for 12 years…of his life, helping people all over places! He told me that after he talked to me one evening, he decided that he was going to eat shit and sleep with bugs. I thought, “Oh Lucifer, what have I done.”

 

“You know Doc, hang out with me and you’re going to be nutsssss!” Me.

 

 

“I know. I like it.” Joshy.

 

 

“Doc! Did you have a psych eval before you became a… doctor?” Me.

 

 

“Ha ha ha ha. Right, how did you end up on this mountain, where is your family?” Joshy.

 

“Really, Joshy. Are you sure? You want to do this…crap... Can we just talk lives in general? Or, something I don’t know?” Me.

 

Moonlight was there, but she did only laughing!

 

 

“Hey, you’re right. Sorry. So, no boyfriends?” Joshy.

 

 

“Ah…huh! Joshy…Joshy, if you’re here for my hole, it would end up badly. Just so you know, my fiancée moved in with Jesus 2 years ago. You might have to do the same if you’re here for my…kitty?” Me.

 

“Ha ha. Sorry to hear that. Moonlight, why don’t you say something?” Joshy.

 

 

“Oh. She’s practicing her English. And I don’t think your dick fits in my hole. Sorry, Doc.” Moonlight.

 

“Hey Joshy, don’t be sorry. It’s ok. I am glad that you’re here helping my people and those with needs. Most doctors, especially a pretty face…sweet like you would want to be bloody rich. Shit, don’t tell me, you’re Hannibal Lecter!” Me.

 

“Ha ha. Well. I just finished my practices and I want to see the world. Of course, I would like to help, if I can.” Joshy.

 

“Well, Pretty Head. Don’t just…can...make it in your heart! You have the power to make differences. Hey, do you have a girlfriend?” Me.

 

“No, why?” Joshy.

 

 

“Oh, how come? Aha, you’re…a kind of…love hits your head and runs through your throat, aren’t you?” Me. (Joshy was lost in the conversation.)

 

“HAA, she meant, gay…dude!” Moonlight.

 

 

I think that day was driving Joshy to wherever he ate shit and slept with buggies, oh, and having mosquitos as best friends…later, he was curious about Moonlight and…my... relationship.

 

“You know girls, I thought you guys hate each other. The way you two are talking, I’ve never seen anything like that before.” Joshy.

 

“Don’t you dare look at me, I have to be like…her. Trust me, you don’t want to meet another one of her!” Moonlight.

 

“Moony, I know you enjoy it.” Me.

 

 

“Oh, you guys are…” Joshy.

 

 

“I thought, you’re supposed to be smart…Doc!” Moonlight.

 

 

“Ha ha ha. No Joshy, we’re best friends. Well, it started when we were in high school. We technically wanted to know who was crazy like us. So, we were making experiments. It was my idea. Now it’s become our bad behaviour.” Me.

 

“The experiments gave you…?” Joshy.

 

 

“Understanding of human behaviour! One time, I pretended to be blind and deaf, and Moonlight pretended to be deaf at one of biggest shopping centers in Bangkok…he he…fun.” Me.

 

I had learnt a lot of differences about…humans and many things from the places he had been. Moonlight and he became best friends after she decided to follow him, save the world…Oh, and he became my brother, a correct-definition one. I like telling people about my un-bio brother because it makes me feel smart!

 

Four months later, Mr. Clean told me that he had a university scholarship to offer. The scholarships were handled by Australia’s universities, which had education businesses in Thailand. There were 4 scholarships and in order to be one of the 4 scholarship students, I had to...write an essay about…me!!!…along it with my work profiles and interview. When he finished telling me, I had to…really ask him.

 

“Mr. Clean, sir, I’m thankful for the opportunity. But, are you sure I’m the right person for the job? I mean…me as a representative? Are you feeling alright…Sir?” Me.

 

“Ha ha. I’m sure, you’ll do well behind these…(with gesturing) odd. First things first, I need your graduate certification and we’ll go from there.” Mr. Clean.

 

“Ok. Just so you know, I’m very much an imbecile!” Me.

 

 

Blimey, someone gave me the scholarship! I did not think I would be one of the four horsemen; more importantly, I did not want to leave Moonlight alone that far distant, but she insisted!

 

 

 

“Come on Aye, for once. Show me that you’re smarter than you look.” Moonlight.

 

 

“I’m not smarter than I look…already proved. Who is going to be with you when your ghosts are out?” Me.

 

“So, you don’t want to go because of my shithead? Professor Daddy was right about you…doll’s head. Don’t worry about me. I’m more worried about you. But, you have Mr. Lunatic, I’m sure he’ll protect you.” Moonlight.

 

“Nice, very nice. Now my safety depends on my craziness. What a wonderful world.” Me.

 

Before I left Thailand, I went back to Bangkok, visiting Ms. Goody, Professor Daddy, and my previous bosses. They gave me some Australian dollars and all of them gave me…speeches.

 

“Kick some farang students’ assess, would you? Make our country proud. Keep your impulses in check.” Ms. Goody.

 

“Don’t use the F word too much. You might get beaten. Study hard and remember…everything needs examining. Be yourself!” Professor Daddy.

 

“Farangs like privacy. Don’t ask personal questions unless they talk about it. And don’t open their refrigerators like you did mine, even though they’re your friends. Farang boys fuck before love. So be careful.” Mr. Cute.

 

“Be careful. Go as far as you can. You’re a smart girl with a pretty face. Use it wisely. Remember, one day when the time of your choices and decisions comes, it always comes with consequences. I hope you find yourself a place you can call home, one day. Home isn’t a large or a small house, but it is love, a place you miss when you have to be away. And that you find a place you feel safe, so you won’t live in fear anymore. I know you don’t have parents to run back to, but Aye, no one can give us what we want unless we make it so. Go get them, little one!” Mr. Ok.

 

 

 

There I was, listening to speeches, which made me drunk after they were done. I did not fully understand what Mr. Ok was talking about, as I was still young, but somehow, some way, I had the ability to feel shit. And from his speeches, I knew more shit would come and it was going to be full of shits. A week before I left for Australia, farang friends came over to say good luck. Joshy came early, but I did not get back home, as I should have. Professor Daddy was not feeling well, so I stayed in Bangkok longer. Moonlight said Joshy was moody because he had no one to play word games with (by all means, arguing).

 

“Hey, Doc. I heard you miss me terribly. What’s up?” Me.

 

 

“Ah…yes, I did. Did I? I heard you were visiting your teachers and your…hmmm old bosses?” Joshy.

 

“Ahuh. You have a problem….Doc?” Me.

 

 

“No. Actually yes, who the hell visits their old boss for a school trip? Is that a tradition?” Joshy.

 

“Hmm…It’s not a tradition. Seriously Doc, what country has that tradition, are you dull or dumb?” Me.

 

“Really, Aye, I’m curious.” Joshy.

 

 

“Ok, chick. They help me, they care for me, and more importantly they are wonderful people.” Me.

 

“I’m going to miss you. I promise I’ll keep 2 eyes on Moonlight. I’ll leave in 2 months, but I’ll come back. You’ll probably finish school by then.” Joshy.

 

“Yes, if I’m not completely mad before that day! Hey, I’ll miss you too, Doc. You’re my friend…remember that! Joshy, how do I know which one is the right choice when I have to choose something or do something?” Me.

 

 

 

“Don’t choose the one you don’t know or understand. Pick the one where you can see the possibility.” Joshy.

 

“What if I chose the wrong one even though I could see the possibility, then what?” Me.

 

 

“That’s called being mistaken. Everyone is allowed to do that. The cure for stupidity is experiences and experiences come from mistakes. We learn from it sophisticatedly.” Joshy.

 

I took all the speeches and what Joshy had said…with me...there I was, Australia, the country of my new everything.

 

According to historical people, in the late 18th century Australia was inhabited by Indigenous Australians, who in documented times have spoken languages classifiable into roughly 250 groups. After the European discovery of the continent

by Dutch explorers in 1606, Australia’s eastern half was claimed by Great Britain in 1770 and initially settled through penal transportation to the colony of New South Wales. The population grew steadily in subsequent decades, and by 1850 most of the continent had been explored and an additional five self-governing crown

colonies established. On 1 January 1901, the six colonies federated, forming the Commonwealth of Australia. Australia has since maintained a stable liberal democratic political system that functions as a federal parliamentary constitutional monarchy comprising six states and several territories.

 

The city, the people, and the architecture are artistic, and Australians love traditions. I think the penal were very smart, forming such a beautiful place to call home. I loved the traffic laws, everyone was waiting for a traffic light at every crosswalk and if someone crossed to the other side before the light allowed, they got the best yelling…shitty, dumb-ass, dumb-shit, asshole, mother fucker, cunt? I did not dare, I got a lot of that yelling already. And if a car struck someone’s ass when they were crossing legally, I had been told that they would be rich. But if someone was crossing illegally and lay on the side or middle of a street hit by a car, they had to pay for the damage of the car, which had crashed into them….Cool…Like It.

 

 

 

It was windy…a lot of the time, and sometimes I had to hold on something because I was going to fly…away. It was raining frequently; people always carried umbrellas when they went out and it was very clean.

 

Sydney was a merry city, people seemed to be happy; of course, there were some neck-heads who looked at me like, “What the fuck are you doing here?” but most Australians were ordinary respectful people, and I hope everything is as it was.

 

To maintain my scholarship, my GPA needed to be at the level of exceptional genius, which was far away from my ability; imagine how far it is between the G and the S. However, there I was, studying like I never got smarter. My first home was a homestay; I did not pick the place…the university’s bus kicked me out. The owner was an Australian single mother of an 8-year-old daughter. I was living with them for only 2 weeks because I had to move out ASAP! It was something to do with shit and piss after 10 pm. Ms. Homestay gave me a grocery shopping bag for use as a chamber pot, because the only bathroom was next to her bedroom. Therefore, the wall between the bathroom and Ms. Homestay’s bedroom was screaming when I pissed…I assume.

 

My scholarly probation officer told me that I could find another place to stay, my scholarship was given a monthly fund and it was up to me to manage it…Cool. I found an apartment from the student messages, which were posted at the student service centre; an Australian nursing student was looking for a roommate, the apartment was outside the city and it was very close to a beach…Awesome!

 

“Hmm...You look like…you need food!” Lyli.

 

 

“I’m not hungry. Thanks. Can we get to the point? How much for the rental and can I piss in the night?” Me.

 

“What the…Yes, you can piss in the night. AUD$100/week, we share hydro and water bills. I already have one roommate. Her name is Cat. Before I decide to take you in, I need to know about you…chicken!” Lyli.

 

 

I told her…Hmm basic statements. Didn’t want to terrorize her with a long exclamation.

 

“And they gave you the scholarship? Oh, God help them.” Lyli.

 

 

“More like, God helps me...I told them the same as your expression. Here I am, so far no luck yet! Am I gonna have a place to stay or not…Miss?” Me.

 

“Lyli. That was a joke, you dumb-ass. Why are you in so much of a hurry? I might be a rapist or a psychopath. And what the hell is going on with…piss in the night?” Lyli.

 

“Well, if you’re a rapist or a psychopath, can I move in like…now? I’ll take my chances with you. It’s better than the grocery shopping bags my homestay gives me nightly for a chamber pot after 10 pm. Please, it’s an emergency of shit and piss problems!!” Me.

 

“You've got to be kidding me. What the fuck! Ok little one, you can stay. I have a car. I can drive you now.” Lyli.

 

“Whooo, you’re not a bitch like I thought. Thanks! How about I pay for gas. Hmm…but I can’t pay rent this week coz my probation officer told me that he already paid Ms. Homestay. Can I pay you next week and with this 3-day week?” Me.

 

“Hey, you know what, little one. You pay me next week. This week...let’s just say customer appreciation.” Lyli.

 

“Hmm. Thanks. Are you sure? I understand how things work. You have to pay the landlord too.” Me.

 

“Hey, I’m sorry for what your homestay did to you. I feel ashamed. I’m sorry that you had to go through that bloody idiot woman. We’re not like that!” Lyli.

 

“Thank you so much for helping me. I’m beginning to believe it’s worth it to risk my life with a psychopath!” Me.

 

 

One problem solved, but when I was looking at the record of my funding from my scholarly probation officer, the cost of the rental was over my limit, I needed jobs like ASAP…again! It was 4 stops from a town named Rockdale (my new home) to the city by suburban train. The apartment was nice and quiet; Lyli was a caring person and she was a big tall woman. Her boyfriend, Mr. Nice…later her husband, was a handsome and kind man, studying nursing, the same as Lyli. Cat was an art student, a cute girl from Canberra, she did not like having a boyfriend only boy nights. They were nice and fair and…crackpot like me, it was a good time living with them.

 

Another day after moving, I went to the city, with a list of hiring places in my pocket, targeting only Thai restaurants. The first one I went in, the owner was not a Thai, but Chinese, and they needed someone for full-time work. The next one was quite an exquisite Thai restaurant, all decorations were in original Thai style, the owner’s wife was Thai and most workers were Thai, only the owner was Australian. He was about 45 years old with a skinhead hairstyle. His name was Mr. Wine. He was looking for a cleaner to clean the dishes and floor, he used to have 3 of them, but one cleaner dumped him. I was thinking, “Here we go again, dishes save the world.”

 

“I don’t think you can clean the dishes. It’s heavy. When it’s a busy time, you need to carry them to a big table there (pointing). You’re skinny, I don’t think you can do it.” Mr. Wine.

 

I had to come up with a plan, one that was very convincing, in order to get a job. I was thinking, Lyli was an Australian, she felt sorry for me about my homestay…Ahuh! There was a very high possibility that I would get a job. So. I told Mr. Wine that I had an emergency situation; I did not like personal talk with a stranger, but desperation came with desperate need.

 

“Do you have any position which doesn’t require muscle? I’m a fast learner. And here is close to my school and the subways.” Me.

 

“You’re a master’s student…hmm…What did you do before here?” Mr. Wine.

 

 

“Ah! Designing...Sir. But I used to clean dishes before.” Me.

 

 

 

“How about you help me run this place?” Mr. Wine.

 

 

“*-*! Sir. I really need a job. But, I don't know anything about anything about any restaurant. I used to run a design company. And cooking is not really my strong suit. You’ll have a very high percentage of going bankrupt…if you let me run your restaurant…Sir. When I was walking here, I was hoping to get the dishes job!…Sir.” Me.

 

“Ha ha. It’s not like that. Your jobs are checking stocks, make sure all tables are set nicely. Oh, you’re an architect, right? You must have some ideas of decoration! And be a receptionist at the opening time. Helping the waitresses. Do not drink my wine!” Mr. Wine.

 

“Don’t worry sir. I don’t drink at all. More like cannot drink.” Me.

 

 

“Good, you check the wine too.” Mr. Wine.

 

 

Another problem solved. I had classes only 4 days a week and my work time was 4:00 pm–11:00 pm, but I usually left at 11:30 pm, unless it was an occasional holiday. The last train back home was 11:45 pm, I always had to run, but if I missed it, Mr.

Wine drove me home…nice boss!

 

 

The first week I was kind of having an uneven irregular time; everything was new, new people, new school, new place, new environment, and a new job. The only old was me…it felt like history repeating itself, but not exactly. The studies were fine except the architectural terminologies were a big pain in my ass! Professor Daddy was right about me – “Doll-Head”– I did not pay attention to all of those terminologies in English while I was studying for my bachelor’s. Well, Thai workers barely read and I was not a psychic. If I knew that my life would be up and down the world, I would have studied more of…clay work and many things…like…prepared for the battle!

 

The second week of the job was kind of…possibly murderous circumstances. On my checking job, the restaurant had 3 chefs and I found out that the big chef was

 

 

cheating on my boss. The bills of grocery were…unnatural mathematics between Lb./price and Lbs./total price. Moreover, there were RPs, and it meant restaurant price on the bills, did I mention the odd handwriting? I did not know what to do, and the only Australian I could trust was Lyli. I wanted to do…the correct human thing, but Mr.

Lunatic who forever lives in my head said I might have been dead murderously…soon.

 

 

“Well, Lyli, he’s kind of huge…don’t even think about his chopping knife. He’s a big chef, big mouth, and big ass.” Me.

 

"You do what you think is right for you. You have a right to be scared…You seem to have problems with…Food!! That’s why you’re bloody skinny?” Lyli.

 

“Maybe…because you’re too big. Don’t you think?” Me. With an exclamation…Ouch…

 

And I got beat! I was thinking about my former senior in pre-med, who chopped his girlfriend into 59 pieces. But, for better or worse…yada…yada, besides I had Mr. Cross in hell, so highway to hell it was.

 

“Hmm…Boss! Can you just find out about all these…by yourself? Not me? I’m kind of small…for a chopping knife. I decided to tell you because when I was in trouble with shit and piss, Lyli helped me and she tried to tell me that Australians are cool…with me. I’m grateful. So, boss, on behalf of Thai people, I’m truly sorry for…shit happened.

But, it would be very very good, if I’m not dead in the process.” Me.

 

 

“Ha ha. You’re good. And a smart girl. Do you have a boyfriend?” Mr. Wine.

 

 

“Ok, boss. Don’t go there, trust me, you don't want that. Do we have a deal or not?” Me.

 

“Of course, I won’t mention you. Don’t worry. Thank you so much for telling me.” Mr. Wine.

 

 

Later on, I looked after everything including money, but he paid me more and gave me more jobs. Mr. Wine had several businesses, 2 restaurants, 2 TABs, (TAB is a bar with slot machines in it, and they told me that the TABs must serve food), and he had a wine company. So, the day that I had no classes, I usually worked at Mr. Wine’s TABs…so fun!

 

Australians liked drinking and holidays, they were very traditional; for example, St. Patrick’s Day, people wore green and everywhere looked green, including my home! Therefore, no one wanted to work on a day like that except me, hmm…it was paid double, hello! So, I loved holidays as much as Australians, the tips were very good and the so was the fun.

 

I was working at one of Mr. Wine’s TABs, cooking chicken wings and fries on St. Patrick’s Day. It was kind of….men’s party, and all the waitresses were topless except that Strawberry, the bartender, and I were fully clothed.

 

“Hello, little one. Why aren’t you topless?” A 50-year-old man customer.

 

 

“I’m cooking chicken wings and fries sir. It’s dangerous to be naked while I’m cooking…food. And just so you know, sir, the last man who saw me under my cloth, dead by a bullet, sir. Enjoy the wings…Sir!” Me.

 

I was working until 11:20 pm and took the last train home,

but it did not go according to plan! I got out at the wrong station and I was so mad at myself, thinking what the hell I was going to do. I did not know which way to walk home! Walking out of the wrong station, I was looking around for a shop or a bar that might be open, but there was none. I did not have a cell phone in Australia (it was still very expensive). I was walking…no way to know where to go until a police car was shouting at my ass! I was thinking, “Thanks, Patrick!” There were 2 police in the car, one of the officers asked me where I was going. So I told them that I had no idea and I forgot to ask Lyli my home phone number…hmmm Alzheimer problem. The police were very kind, they drove me home…and when I opened my apartment door:

 

 

“Where the fuck have you been? We were worried that you might be dead somewhere.” Lyli.

 

“Ah…Well, I got off at the wrong station and I forgot to ask you my home phone number…again, one police drove me home and another charmed me with his singing.” Me.

 

“I can't believe you’re a scholarship student…Shithead! Police can be rapists too you know…thickhead. Here, this one is the home number and this one is the hospital number. If I’m not home, call Mr. Nice…chock-head!” Lyli.

 

“You know, it doesn’t take much to rape you or kill you. Conveniently, it doesn’t take much time to dig a hole for your body either.” Mr. Nice.

 

“Thank you so much guys, really! I’m a shithead…I know. Sorry. And Mr. Nice, I get the picture…Thanks!!” Me.

 

 

 

I love Australia; most people were nice to very nice. One day, after school, I went to a coffee shop close by, the line of waiting was quite…a long snake. I was waiting until my turn, but a coffee bitch looked at me…like “Get the fuck off!” and…she talked to a man behind me instead. The man said, “What is wrong with you? Can you see, she’s standing right here?” Well, they both were Australians, so I just let them fight with no interruption. As a result of the fight, I got my coffee, worrying that something might have been added to it to make me discharge unusual feces!

 

“Hey. Sorry about that.” The Man.

 

 

“Oh. Thanks again for…defending coffee and me. It’s ok, I get that sometime.” Me.

 

 

“It’s not ok. She wasn’t supposed to behave like that. Australians are not like her.” The Man.

 

 

“I know. I’m living with 3 Australians and they’re good people. I think the coffee girl should listen to Mr. John Lennon. You look like a professor, aren’t you?” Me.

 

“Yes. At Arts and Humanities. And I’ll be your advisor for your research. Have you ever looked at your handbook?” Professor Book.

 

“Oh…crap…Sorry, sir. I was a bit occupied with…bathroom problems and moving oh…jobs…Sir. And the committee said that I need to wait until my statement has been approved before I need you…now…Sir?” Me.

 

“Ha ha. Well, Ms. Aye, you need me now! I’ve had your statement since last week. I was waiting for you to show up.” Professor Book.

 

“How do you know it’s…me…? Oh no, you’re a stalker, aren’t you? Joking! Ahmm…Your photo is in my handbook…I don’t think anyone would carry mine around, do they?...Sir? Sorry, sir, I did not know my statement had been approved…really?” Me.

 

“Haha. You’re the only scholarship student and only Asian. Anyway, I read it already. Impressive theories. Come and see me tomorrow at 10:00 am.” Professor Book.

 

“Thank you, sir. I hope I can prove my theories! Do you think King Khatra actually rode a lion, sir?” Me.

 

“Tomorrow! And, Ms. Aye, go to the committee’s office and leave them some way to contact you…would you??” Professor Book.

 

“Oh..sh…shut, right away sir. Have a good afternoon and see you tomorrow sir.” Me.

 

 

A few months later, Professor Book and his wife took me to Lyttelton Christchurch, New Zealand. The Townie told me that Lyttelton is a port town on the north shore of Lyttelton Harbour, at the northwestern end of Banks Peninsula and close to Christchurch, on the eastern coast of the South Island of New Zealand. Due to its

 

 

establishment as a landing point for Christchurch-bound seafarers, it has historically been regarded as the “Gateway to Canterbury” for colonial settlers. The port remains a regular destination for cruise liners and is the South Island’s principal goods transport terminal.

My job was babysitting their 2 daughters. He was kind to pay me, but I told him that the trip was a payment. I got a chance to see New Zealand…a bit, as I promised Mr. Ok, “As far as you can go.” Very nice place, it is quite similar to Australia except it is colder, and they told me some parts of the country have snow. So…cool. We were there for 6 days; Mrs. Book’s father had passed away. Everyone was busy with the funeral and I was busy scaring the girls.

 

I had done my research and was going to wait until graduation day, but Moonlight wanted to dedicate herself to saving the world. I wanted to see her before she left, so I asked my professors and they understood that my mother did not have much time to live…He he…so they agreed to send my graduate certification later…Super!

 

Before I left Australia, there was one place I had to go. It was something to do with Mr. Cross, my friend who is in hell, helping Lucifer manage…hell.

 

Opera…hmmm not the OCD one, but the Opera House or the Australian Opera Company, was formed in 1956 in Sydney under the auspices of the Australian Elizabethan Theatre Trust. It commemorated the Mozart bicentenary by presenting four Mozart operas in all capital cities. Opera Australia is the principal opera company in Australia. Based in Sydney, its performance season at the Sydney Opera

House accompanied by the Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra runs for approximately eight months of the year, with the remainder of its time spent in the Arts Centre Melbourne, where it is accompanied by Orchestra Victoria. In 2004, the company gave 226 performances in its subscription season…awesome!

 

After the show, I was sitting outside behind the theater, having a coffee and putting some cancer into my lungs, listening to The Who’s “Behind Blue Eyes.” Because of Mr. Cross, I had learnt to listen to music in an artist’s way, to understand music instruments, the lyrics, the rhythms, and how each sound makes differences. Something

 

 

about me… my music made many people feel…stultifyingly bored! I put people in my path into songs, each one has their own…shit and characters, I also add more songs from their favours…if I like the songs. It is like I was building a concert hall of memories for my friends, and when I miss them, all I have to do is listen. Thank goodness, no one liked hip-hop, oh, don’t get it wrong, I mean, I don’t understand the rhythms, I tried with Mr. Cross once, but unsuccessful…Sorry. As promised, Mr.

Cross! Opera house!!

 

 

Back again to Chiang Mai; we sold our apartment, needed money for Moonlight’s adventures. Even though they paid Moonlight’s income, saving the world was not a group of rich bitches. Actually, she did not need money, because everywhere she went, she ate shit and slept in a camp with wars and sick people, but I told her just in case she needed to run…fast. Her last mission was taking care of babies, born of shits like us, and it made her very happy. Moonlight always wanted to be something that means something good. At first, she did not want to go when she knew that the contract was 5 years, she was worried about me, but…

 

“Hey, I’m not a bloody kid. I can look after myself. Chick!” Me.

 

 

“More like crazy by yourself! Besides, who is going to be with you when your brain- space residents are gone mad? I don’t want to see you becoming a celebrity on FBI MOST WANTED!!” Moonlight.

 

“Hey bitch! I’m not a psychopath. Hmm, second thought, don’t you think it’d be cool, having your picture on worldwide television? It’s another way of being famous! I guess that’s why we have more and more killers. OK, serious shit time. Go and do what you want to do, I love you and we’re always in the shits together, not matter what the fuck happens, right? This one is a good fuck and we have email, yahoo, and camera now.

THANKS ALL MR. MS. AND MRS. SCIENTISTS!! Don’t make me kill

myself!...Please.” Me.

 

 

“Well, we still have some time together hmm…” Moonlight.

 

 

“Ahmm…we’ve time together for what…20 years now hello. Do you think our marriage is the very last? Hey, Moony, if you end up dead in the process, can you wait for me? I don’t want to miss a thing.” Me.

 

“Absolutely, no way, I’ll walk on the other side alone. Seriously, what if I meet someone; dead by a truck and look like a cheap can after…dead. I’ll be dead all over again!” Moonlight.

 

“HAAAAAA. Really Moony, I’ll be fine, I want you to find your happiness, for once in our lives…we deserve it!” Me.

 

“What about yours? Do you know, yet?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Yes, it’s you. I don’t need you to be with me. As long as I know you are happy…no shit. Have you ever been curious why I don’t have a distinct sequence of nucleotides forming part of…FEAR? Because I know you will go to hell with me…you are my shield!

 

“Hmm…I don’t know what are you talking about…dizzy, I’m not Joshy… are you sure…about the…hell? Ahmm…tell me one thing, chick’s head. How the fuck are you going to be safe, when your fucking shield is too far from you?” Moonlight.

 

“Oh, hmmm…like the shit monk’s buffalo spirit…remember?” Me.

 

 

“Ahuh, you will probably be dead soon then! Moonlight.

 

 

 

It was about 5 months before Moonlight’s leaving; doctor Joshy was back, helping at the border between Thailand and Cambodia. We went to see Joshy and when Joshy had time off, he visited us; I still had my forest house because the wife of the officer liked me, they did not let others rent it. We had a very good time…me, Moonlight, and Joshy.

 

 

After everyone was gone, I heard the echo of silence inside my Wernicke, I never felt like that before. I decided to go to Europe, as I had been invited, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, Germany, Netherlands, England, and the Czech Republic. I met Moonlight and Joshy twice in Europe on their missions, it was not long, but nothing really mattered as long as we had each other. After 7 months, I went back to Thailand, worked about 2 years, then let’s say, dumb and lucky both, I went to North American countries, America, Canada, and unwillingly…The Dominican Republic.

Sometimes…even someone from nothing like me could not say no…had to go…like I said, dumb and lucky. When I had to go to Japan, China, Myanmar, and Indonesia unwillingly, it was for work…forced, but not like the Dominican Republic, that was more like “If you don't go, you're a fucking…slut or bitch…pick one, but if you go, you’re not welcome.” And it did not cooperate well with my PTSD.

 

Actually, when I really…am; travelling and meeting different human…lives from the strictly biological point of view were cool…and it was some kind of a major study for me. I was waiting for my connecting flight to Austria, in Beijing, looking at airplanes through a glass wall…something was very unconventional, kicked my eyeballs. It was a giant board, advertising drinking water! On the board's picture was a young pretty Chinese girl, half naked and half of her body was in the pool of natural envelopment with a tiny waterfall. It was a very nice-looking picture…really, more importantly, “No drinking there would be the best safe way!”

 

In China, it was alright, if you like the smell…wasted or spoiled food along with other refuse, then it is ok to go. I did not have much time, only on a work mission. In Chiang Mai, we had a problem with Chinese tourists because they did not like bathroom, they liked doing…urine on some fences or blocks…by all means men and…women! I was told some Chinese tourists defecated on a wall in the middle of Chiang Mai city. I had to admit, that was beyond imagination for a vacation to me.

 

In Austria…where Mr. Adolf Hitler was born (the killer of…hellfire!) I was living with my second…hmm ex-fiancé…for some time! There were his grandparents, his mother, his half-brother, his 2 uncles, and an aunt. He also had a half-sister in Vienna…I went to visit her once. The town I lived in was Salzburg, where The Sound of Music was filmed. The people I was acquainted with were nice to very nice…hmm just

 

 

different from Australians’ way. I loved his grandmother, she was extremely kind and the most generous person I have never met. She was 80 years old and almost unsighted, but she liked cooking and making me…eat. She used a huge magnifying glass, looking at the food when she was cooking. And she liked to take me to nice restaurants very often, even after I told her No!

 

Actually, I had very limited conversations with the folks because only Mr. Ex, my fiancé, Mr. C, Mr. Ex’s young half-brother, and Mr. Ex’s mother could speak English. However, I could only talk to Mr. Ex’s mother between 7:00 and 9:50 am, after that she would not talk to anyone except Mr. Scotch Whisky or Mr. Vodka, and Mr. C was 21 years old with a lot of 21-year-old friends. Although they could not speak English, they liked to call me, especially Mr. Ex’s grandfather. He called me in the morning, before lunch, and before dinner, and if Mr. Ex came home late from work, he gave Mr. Ex shit…on the phone! The conversation between grandpa and me was,

 

“Hello, Papa. Good?” Me.

 

 

“Ja. You? Good?” Grandpa.

 

 

“Ja. Danken. Papa.” Me.

 

 

“Eat? You eat?” Grandpa.

 

 

“Yes, Papa. Danken.” Me.

 

 

Just like that, every single day. He was a good man and he liked to take me to the mountains! He was in World War II as a mechanic, but at the time I met him he was already retired. The family members were pretty close they got together every Saturday from late morning until whenever felt like bedtime at the grandparents’ place. We were a party…happy, big family! By 11:00 am, everyone was already in the level of uplift feeling, effectively by whatever individual personal approval. Mr. C and I smoked weed, the rest drank beer or whisky.

 

 

Outside Mr. Ex’s family was the same; people seemed to like me even if we could not communicate! Once, a policeman was trying to point me in the direction of a street with everything he could, telling me where the hell a German language school was, but my doll’s head could not get to the interpretations. First, I thought he meant…snake? Oh, no, fire? Oh, dolphin’s jump? He ended the conversation and took me to the school. Language problem!

 

My German teacher was a lady who seemed to be a happy woman until I had to say a word in German so, “Fotze” (cunt)…instead of…“Fuße” (feet)…to her! She said that I was going to kill her with laughter. The shit is, I had the same…problem with the English too. When I had an English piano teacher, the first thing about the piano is the piano bars, and they are E F G A B C D E F on both hands playing. She was teaching me how to remember them…like a shortcut. She tapped her fingers on every other bar and said, “Every good boy deserves fudge.”…no problem to me, “Every good boy deserves fuck.” So, she quit! Oh, did I say something wrong?

 

When Moonlight and I were in London, England, we had a policeman…on a horse, helping us out with an….F word problem…and it was not me! It was 3 shitheads, talking like no one missed “Fucking American Tourists,” and that was what disturbed Moonlight’s PTSD! “And what the fuck are you?”…she said…hmmm…that was why the police-horseman came and he was very nice to give us his number, in case we needed help, but we did not have any more problem, so, thank you again, Officer! The British people were nice to super nice, the museums were extraordinary! I love the Victoria & Albert Museum…the restaurant, which is inside the museum, is absolutely remarkable, and the Cast of Trajan’s Column (1864), everyone who loves architecture needs to have a long peek, Moonlight said I should have tried to steal them!!!! I did not do it…too small, however I did…hmmm…took some photos of the…original painting, where is signed “NO PHOTOS”…sorry, I just wanted to keep some private memories…I promise, I will never share! We had a chance to see Royal Albert Hall…someone knew someone…I was so excited…never seen a concert hall so beautiful like it…thinking of my friend, Mr. Cross, I hoped he would see it through my brown eyes. It was opened by Queen Victoria in 1871, had a capacity of up to 5,272, seats and become one of England’s most treasured and distinctive buildings. Harrods is another place everyone should visit, so elegant, and there was a lady inside the shopping area, singing some

 

 

opera…so awesome, oh and the foods…yum yum. Europe made me feel like home, the countryside, the rivers, and the people were…evoking admiration through their actions; of course, there were some neck-head…idiots, but very few! I remember when we were in England the first time; we went to Surrey visiting my English teacher who just had a son. One afternoon, we were at a market near Guildford, I wanted to buy some bread for Ms. Cheer, the English teacher, but the shop's owner said to me that if I came back about 15 minutes later, he would give me a fresh one…with homemade berry-jam, made by his loving wife! Thanks for a nice and warm welcome…Oh, and I am not a pumpkin…the British people liked to call me that…^_*!

 

Two months later, I went to Rome, Italy…hmm for a day, waiting for another train to Milan and then to Berlin, I only had 11 hours in Rome. So, I went to a hotel station (shower place), it was EUR$ 10 for shower and coffee. I like the idea…cool, after I showered and pooped I was walking around, but I did not go to the Vatican…not really my interest.

 

I went to Piazza Navona, which is a square in Rome. It is built on the site of

the Stadium of Domitian. Actually, it was built in the 1st century AD. In the last years of the 15th century, when the city market was transferred there from the Campidoglio, Piazza Navona was transformed into a highly significant example of Baroque Roman architecture and art during the pontificate of Innocent X, who reigned from 1644 until 1655, and whose family palace, the Palazzo Pamphili, faced the piazza. It features important sculptures and creations: in the centre stands the famous Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi or Fountain of the Four Rivers (1651, Gian Lorenzo Bernini).

 

Italians were very cheerful and seemed like they enjoyed talking, but again languages problem, I hope they are better in common language now. A waitress at a coffee shop was very pretty and very nice, she was trying to speak English to me, told me to be careful about the hmmm…ass-pat from motorcycles and she gave me free cookies.

 

My first stop in Germany was Berlin, the capital and the largest city of Germany, which has roughly 6 million residents from more than 180 nations…wow, and the earliest evidence of settlements in the area of today’s Berlin is a wooden beam dated

 

 

from approximately 1192, remnants of a house foundation dated to 1174, that was found in excavations in Berlin Mitte. The first written record of towns in the area of present-day Berlin was dated from the late 12th century.

 

I was visiting German friends who I met in Thailand during the NGOs’ mission. They were doing their research for their Ph.D in Chiang Mai; I offered for them to stay at my place and helped them with some translations. They invited me to Berlin for their engagement and later on, they took me to Frankfurt and Munich. Oh, they both had the same name, Raphael, same career and workplace! I enjoyed their cute names a lot; it was fun to call them when they were together. I got beaten sometime…

 

In Frankfurt, we stayed at Raphy’s (male) friend name Fredic, but friends called him Fairly. He was a nice 43 years old tattooist and he lived in a 3 stories building, in the city area. He had a souvenir shop on the first floor, a tattoo shop on the second floor, and the third floor was his apartment, which had 2 bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living area joined together through the kitchen.

 

He was a nice and caring person, but there was some…informal issue! Well, his only bathroom was built with…nice and clear glass, only a small room inside the bathroom was made of drywall for piss and poopy (if it was glass walls, I probably would have stayed somewhere else, too…friendly). Even though the bathroom was in a blind corner, yet, seeing through was a see-through. I did not feel…cozy, did not have Cindy Crawford’s sexy body!! Besides, what if I wanted to clean my ass…Moreover, he was…swift friendly, looked like everyone was his best friend, he never had a long-term relationship, had never been married, and he was a tattooist with no tattoo on his body!

I did see him naked….so cool…However, it was an accident…

 

 

“I don’t see any tattoo on you. Are you sure you’re the one?” Me.

 

 

“Ah…you’re peeking at me! I don’t like my body dirty. I like it clean. I also shave all of my body…hmm you wanna see?” Fairly.

 

And right there, and it was not only me, but also the twin-names (Raphael) were there too. Fairly was completely naked! The twin names did not seem to be incredulous,

 

 

so I thought why did I. He had a very nice body though…He was a swimmer and cute, looked young for his age, dirty blond and tan skin. Although pale hair never had my interest, but he looked very…yummy! So, I had to tell him,

 

“Stay away from the bathroom when I shower, would you? Or, I’ll kick you out of your own house while I’m showering. Do you get it?” Me.

 

He was laughing, but promised.

 

 

When I was alone, I went for walk on a side of the Main River. The Main River is a river in Germany. With a length of 525 kilometres, including its 52 km long source river, White Main, it is not only the longest right tributary of the Rhine but also the longest river lying entirely in Germany (if the Weser and the Werra are considered as two separate rivers; together they are longer). The largest cities along the Main are Frankfurt am Main and Würzburg.

 

I felt like I was home; it was very bizarre because I had never thought I would have an opportunity to be there, never read about it, and geography has never my interest, only if I needed to know something. The feeling was running around my head to my chest physically, I thought, “Oh, my Lucy. Really Mr. Lunatic? Here?” I was thinking about Mr. Ok’s speech about finding a home. Maybe it was because of the river, the trees, the architecture, and nice people. I had been there for 2 months, never bumped into neck-head and all that…maybe it made me…feel like I am home. When I told the twin-names about my feeling, they said, “You should marry your idiot fiancé and dump him for landed immigration motives. And…stay with us!” Oh, landlord problem…motivation?

 

When I went back to Austria, I dumped my fiancé right away, but not exactly. I had to come up with some good reason, such as “One day you’ll understand what is more important than just love. I’m more…uncomfortable than you because I’m the one who is walking away.” He was complaining all the way to the end that I did not cry…enough!

 

 

Next stop was North America. Americans and Canadians are neighbours; they are alike in culture and traditions. I did not pay much attention to America’s geography, never dreamt of cleaning dishes over there or visiting. Even though I could go in and out easily, yet, I was trying not to get close to American’s border with all my effort…Too many warnings!!

 

However, I did go to…America, with a very…hmm, surprising in a way that was unsettling to understand. The invitations had been repeated with my refusal until “Oh, you don't want to visit us!!” Ok, I was finally there, and as soon as I got there, I had become an invisible human. A Canadian friend had to tell the summoners that I was there and liked to have a coffee or…food…too! As their home was in the middle of nothing, I let the Canadian deal with the American because if I let Mr. Lunatic do the job, I probably would have eaten monkey’s food. I thought maybe I was too small to…spot or I was in one of America’s shows, “Fear Factor,” with a hiding camera somewhere…not sure why I had been invited.

 

Thoughtfully, I had to come up with a plan in order to make them physically see me; they had a dog that was very hypersensitive with…movement! When the dog got excited, it liked to poop…a lot and preferred indoors. Because only their dog could see me, my plan was to get the dog…excited, so they could see all…me…Hmmm, it did not actually go with…the plan, there were dog poops on the summoners’ bed…not on the floor, as in my original plan! OOPS!

 

I did not know much or see much in the U.S.A; the visit was short, thank goodness! Actually, my first encounter with Americans was in my own country. Because of Middle East problems, American warships were in Thailand’s territory, on the ocean. When Americans on the warships had days off, some of them were walking around in a big and crowded Thai shopping center, which had a big grocery store on the underground floor. I appeared to be there with the mother in the grocery area, enjoying the air conditioning as much as others. I heard someone’s voice, quite as loud as speakers in the grocery area.

 

“Hey, can you speak English?” A. No. 1

 

 

“I don’t think so. Hey pretty girl. Wanna see American cock?” A. No. 2, with the others two’s laughter.

 

Next thing, I could feel something touch my right shoulder with laughter. Oh shit, they were behind me, and talking to me, no wonder it was so loud!

 

“Hey kitty kitty. Can you speak English?” A. No. 2

 

 

"Yes…Sirs! FUCK OFF. An ‘Honour’ to speak to you Sirs!!” Me.

 

 

I was thinking maybe they were wearing fake soldier uniforms??...Because I did not think a honourable man would have behaved like such a dumb-fuck. But, the green t-shirts were engraved with a symbol of the U.S.A and had NAVY underlined, oh, and their pants were…soldiery.

 

Canada…Canada is a country that located in the northern part of North America. Its ten provinces and three territories extend from the Atlantic to the Pacific and northward into the Arctic Ocean, covering 9.98 million square kilometres (3.85 million square miles), making it the world’s second…considerably great sized country by total area. I had been up and down the world, Canada is a very beautiful country; in Vancouver, trees, forests, and the city are feeling so green. Calgary, has mountains with snow haircuts on the top, then gradually appears trees and…moose on the way down…a big one...so cool, never seen them before…moose. In Montreal, some part of the city is more like Europe, silly me of course, they speak French and originally they came from Europe. I did not have a chance to go outside of the city, can’t really say what it looks like.

 

I lived in Ontario province; about 3-4 hours drive from Toronto…near a city, which is very close to…America’s border…lol.

 

Ontario is one of the 13 provinces and territories of Canada, it is in east-central Canada, and is Canada’s most populous province, accounting for nearly 40 percent of the country’s population, and is the second-largest province in total area. Ontario is fourth-largest in total area when the territories of the Northwest Territories and

 

 

Nunavut are included. It is home to the nation’s capital city, Ottawa, and the nation’s most populous city, Toronto. In the area I stayed were farms; it is not far from Point Pelee, which is a peninsula of Lake Erie in southwestern Ontario

near Windsor and Detroit, Michigan, the southernmost extent of Canada's mainland. Pelee Island and Middle Island in Lake Erie extend slightly farther.

 

Canada’s 4 seasons make it a most beautiful place for photography if you can stay all year, waiting for the seasons to…move all the way around…It was awesome! I was staying with a Canadian friend who was friendly and easygoing personalities…did I mention…doll’s head? I did not think I would stay long, but the Canadian government was so kind as to give me a Canadian passport.

 

First I was being a bloody doll’s head to…not really interesting, oh please, don't get me wrong; I did not think it was so cool to be a Canadian. As long as the Canadian government did not kick me out, I just stayed, studying and doing some artwork…all that I wanted. However, my Canadian friend said, “Please don't look…like so stupid.” That kicked me to think…cool, health-care, fresh air, and weed was organic…Awesome…

 

I did not know or do some…Friendy time because it seemed like people I had been introduced to were???…It was something to do with…hmm…brain…damage. Starting 2 months after my arrival, a few Canadians I had encountered during my stay, made announcements publicly like “I don't like her! I don't know why. I can't help it!” Or “I don't like everyone who is not Canadian”…oh, or made passionate dislike for “Not welcome to the party!” yet, they invited me! I was invisible or when I was visible the insulted eyeballs were working so hard to let me know that WE WILL BE WATCHING YOU! I had to admit, even Mr. Lunatic and Ms. Conscience were unable to comprehend the situation. I was wondering before my North American trip, why we have so many Nuclear Weapons, the total now is believed to be 16,300, but after all…the parties, it is understandable to have that many bombs!

 

Another group was some kind of friendly for a price, like they knocked on my door at 9:30 pm for money problems or for…hmm…sex purposes, when I knew his wife. I did not open my door though because it was 2 ways of getting killed, either he

 

 

killed me or his wife killed me and…him?…Nay…I am fine thanks!!! The relationships were quite expensive and dramatic…friendships, I was thinking, maybe I should have looked up an escort phone number, cheaper and with…happy ending?

 

“To make one love another is a rare anticipation, but to make one hate another is like a drop of water, carry on as far as it runs.” Mr. Wise.

 

That was a real-life wise man, who I met after I left Canada. He has the same psychological profile as mine, but not exactly. He told me I was not to blame, however I needed to understand that everyone was not crazy like me and…we should have had more crazy…! I was thinking, “Oh Lucifer, finally, I meet someone crazy more than me.”

 

“Der unterchied zwischen vergangenheit gegenwart und zukunft ist nur eine illusion wenn auch einehartnackig; the difference between the past and present is an only illusion, albeit a stubborn one.” (Albert Einstein). Mr. Wise’s speech.

 

I was feeling wobbly in my brain…a bit, never talked to anyone that exceptionally intellectual before. Therefore, I was… perceiving the same…shits and the difference…crazy and how the same shit’s mind works. He told me I should have felt sorry for those Canadians because the experiences of good friends and care that I had been given from people who search for goodness during my up and down country to country travels will never be given to them!! Ahuh, I get it!

 

Mr. Wise was right, they did not just…hmmm…shit on my doorstep, but they also shitted on their own people and surprisingly on their loved ones! Moreover, words are meaningless, only whose is the better lie. Mr. Wise wanted me to look…closely, so I did and I was able to reach the understanding, but I am curious. Why?

 

Canada is a beautiful country, good benefits and very clean, I always had phone calls when water was not safe for drinking or cooking…if it was in my country, no one would have picked up the phone because we were probably dead before somebody called us! Moreover, Canada has a system called Welfare, it is the social safety net of

 

 

last resort in Canada. It provides money to meet the basic needs of individuals and families who have exhausted all other means of financial support.

I had been taught by a Canadian woman who knocked on my door at 9:30 pm for

a money problem; I did not need to work and all I had to do was pretend to be crazy! (I don’t need to pretend to be crazy. I already am…Crazy!) I was thinking, wow…cool….but Mr. Lunatic reminded me about General Sweet and how I bought his 5 stars off of his shoulders…very cheap, the loser in an honourable uniform!! Maybe, Welfare was not such a good...“I Fucking Dea!!” I am already a fucking bitchy, don’t really want to add more middle names. Besides, the Canadian government had been so kind with a passport, medical care, and opportunity for my second master’s, let’s not betray them, shall we?

 

All the wonderful things in Canada, I do not see any reason why people I had met being such a bitch….y.

Still, I did not have much luck seeing…any hmm…real Americans and…real

Canadians? Am I correct about the “Real”? (Feeling like I am talking about a…Whale Watching Trip ) Alright, only a few of the real, like a Canadian girly friend, the immigrant lady officer, she was very kind, and a professor of a university along with his family (the professor also gave me primitive Canadians historical second edition book). After I met the professor and his family, I was sure the real Canadian ones are probably…cool people!!

After I got back to Chiang Mai from North America, I met a 19-year-old

American boy at a police station; I was visiting my police friend who wanted to build a resort. From my point of view, it seemed like a police officer could not understand the American boy, so I asked him what was the problem! It was some bad Thai people, they cut his backpack, stole his wallet, and he lost his passport too…oh. I told him that the police could not help him; I drove him to the American embassy and gave him 2000 baht. I told him if he still had problems, call me. About 5 days later he called me, letting me know that his mammy sent him money and he wanted to give me back my money. OH…I told him it was ok just got home safe. I thought, “Shit…why did I have to go so far to see…not real Americans, the real one was just right on my steps. He was only 19,

 

 

but he knows how to represent himself and his country, not many people would give back your money, trust me…especially the ones I met in Canada or America!!

My last stop of this chapter is who missed out on representing themselves and

their country with careless actions. You may cause something like: once, I wanted to pick up a young American couple to take them back to Bangkok to catch their flight home. They were stuck on a beach near Bangkok because someone who was supposed to pick them up had not shown up. But, my European ex pulled me away…felt like dragging, just because they were Americans!

It should not have happened like that! That was another reason I dumped

him…my arm was hurt! I do not know what happened to the young couple, but that incident made me feel like I was living on the wrong planet. European, American, Canadian, Asian, African, and Middle Eastern all poop, shit, piss, eat, breathe, sleep, and fuck the same, don’t we? Why bother having borders!

 

If one can be just like the 19-year-old American boy or the Canadian professor and his family, maybe, just maybe, we would have less slaughter, murderers, suicide bombs, and wars. And maybe, that young Americans couple could have caught their flight back home safely that day. And my arm would not have been hurt…

Mr. Moody Be Good is concerned about Nuclear Weapons; I told him if we have

World War III, get drunk, fuck a girl, and do not busy him-self finding a hole to hide in. Obviously, 16,300 giant bombs, each one contain death smoking 18km above the bomb’s hypocenter and releasing the dead energy, approximately 1.2 million tons. So I don’t think we can hide. Maybe just listen to “Mr. John Lennon” (Imagine) more often. It might help!

 

 

Believers, Religions, Belief, and Faith

 

 

Demons, gods, devils, angels, heaven, and hell are a question; do they exist or are they just fabrications, appropriate radically different beliefs by using systematic and forcible pressure? On my way up and down the…earth, I have not met anyone who can appraise them accurately.

 

Since my brain started growing, those were my personal curiosities as well; however, I had to become an adult when I was 10 and I did not have time to think about it. I know it sounds funny, as I literally grew up with Catholicism and also my so-called family was Catholic. Obviously, I should have been one of them since I was a child.

Unfortunately, my 10-year-old self came along with PTSD. All those professional brainwashers could not clean my brain, therefore I was speculating on the god in my own…way. Furthermore, the nuns at the boarding school were too busy with Chinese ghosts in dramatic television shows. Moonlight had decided when she was 8 years old that the god did not exist.

 

“Don't be stupid. It's just a word they like to say. How is he possibly real? We're living in the god house, for GOD’s sake. And clearly, they had been paid for us to be here. Do we have lunch yet?” Moonlight, 8-year-old version.

 

I agreed with her, but I was not smart like her, I did not actually understand at the time and on the methodology of my growing up, I did not have time for the god at all. Every day of keeping my ass and myself alive was…something worthless to think about, but I did tell myself that when I finished school I was going to nail this anomalous question.

 

My plan was to go to religious houses to see which one was close to being exceptionally ratiocinative of the meaning of the creator and ruler of the universe, and source of all moral authority, controlling power. Moreover, The word “God” not only means religions or spiritual, but also means adored, admired, and indicates goodness.

 

 

I know I am an incredulous believer; well, do you think before we believe in something extensively, we should be able to understand what are we worshiping, and which religion is actually the god’s will? Moonlight always laughed at me because it was wasting away, looking for something irrational foolish. One good day, Moonlight and Mr. Moody Be Good were discussing about religions and the god. I let Mr. Moody Be Good and Moonlight discuss because Mr. Moody Be Good wanted me to become a believer; on the other side, Moonlight did not want me to be an obsessive-compulsive church…temple…disorder.

 

“Tell me, Mr. Moody, if he's so powerful, why we’re here? Why do we exist? Clearly, Aye and I, and many babies that are about to be born like…now are mistaken.

Therefore, I stuck with this (finger points at me) bloody lunatic, stubborn bitch since I was 7. And positively, I'd not have been me or worse…be dead if I don't have this….bitch!” Moonlight.

 

“Maybe, he’s busy making new babies. Do you know how many people around the world are fucking right now?” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

“Good point, Mr. Moody.” Me.

 

 

“Shit head talking! If he’s so powerful, and our only maker, the father of all, why the hell does he not make fucking babies for ones that are fit to be parents? Look what happened to us. The god is supposed to be our father. So far as a father, he’s done a shit job. What did we do wrong? We’re just bloody kids.” Moonlight.

 

“Exactly, Moony. We’re bloody kids…he he.” Me.

 

 

“Oh come on, God has plans. There are very few best friends who love and understand each other like you guys. Don’t you think maybe this is his plan?” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

“I don’t understand this bitch (me) and I have no choice!! Ok! It looks like he made mistakes. So, he sent me a bitchy one, is that what you believe?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Oh well, maybe that’s it, Moony. Maybe he’s actually at…the god’s palace? And he did say, ‘Oops’ when we landed on this earth. So, he gave me you.” Me.

 

“Oh, for fuck sake. Are you really that dumb Aye? What the fuck could a 7-year-old do for…a 6-year-old…shitty child? Did I mention an event about myself? You two are so hopeless!!” Moonlight.

 

“Moony, god or not, I’m lucky, I have you!” Me.

 

 

“Me too. You’re my worst nightmare!” Moonlight.

 

 

That was how it had become my real interest, I wanted to know what other religionists would say or other agnostic intelligentsias would say. Therefore, every time and everywhere I went, the god was one of 10 things to do in…wherever I was.

 

I started with Buddha, a title given to the founder of Buddhism in northeastern India in the 5th century. The wisdom of freedom from suffering from aspirations and desires for pleasure, monks who are ordained, having the authority to perform certain rites, the community of men typically living under vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, they wear orange shaolin and they are hard to miss. The orange colours are different depending on the countries, traditions, and denominations. Furthermore, the monks ingest once or twice a day depending on which denomination they are, they do not live with their family, only a short visitation or occasional matters, those whose wives are living are forbidden to go home.

 

Buddhists give the essential needs; food needs are put together (even if they are not compatible) into a monk’s bowl, typically black. Meal times are early until 8:00 am and 11:30 am until 1:00 pm, and if they miss their meals, they can only drink milk or water. Those who have a meal only once a day do not drink after 1:00 pm. I was thinking, “Wow, they really get to the point of Buddha’s doctrine…cool, let’s visit them shall we, Mr. Lunatic? Ms. Conscience?” When things need a full resolve, I always need every resident in my skull…and circumspection is required!

 

 

My first stop was not far from Bangkok, toward the southern provinces. A temple with a reputation for spiritual being believed to act as an attendant in a very fashionable way, Tattoos! I was thinking what a thoughtful…interesting idea! There were many kinds of animal allegories, the spiritual of luck and protection.

 

Allegories meaning:

 

 

Tiger: Strong, fast, and lucky; good for boxers, police, and soldiers.

 

 

Monkey: Clever, persevering, love and money; good for businessmen, businesswomen, students, and appears to be a common allegory.

 

Bird (only in Buddhists’ fairy tales, looks like a miniature eagle): Intelligent, studious, judgment, and does well in business; good for lawyers, students, teachers, and business planners.

 

I did not go on more than that because I was getting dizzy, too many of them. However, I had been persuaded about the theory of the superpower of the allegories, so I picked the birdy one. Well, I was hoping to have some remedy for my dull-wittedness.

 

First things first, I bought an offering, which was flowers, 3 burnable incense sticks wrapped with a banana leaf, and an envelope for money-giving. Then I gave it to a monk who was also a tattooist with a 70-centimetre slender needle in his hand. I was going to change my mind, but my workers said, “Come on, don't be a chicken!” Sure, no problem! The needle needs to be long because monks cannot touch women, girls, little girls, and baby girls!

 

It was painful; it did not feel like an actual tattoo…it felt like I had been stabbed; good thing I picked a miniature bird for my miniature arm. The last stop for this miracle tattoo…allegory…cure? I needed to be activated by the headmaster of the temple, who was also a monk, he blew on my head with some words that are believed to be an ancient language originally from Cambodia in the 1000s BC, and some believed it was a dark magic.

 

 

I got migraines a lot from learning all that. My original plan was not about a miracle cure for stupidly, but to demonstrate the existing fact of the miracle allegory. I thought, “Wonderful, if it works, I will be…new me…awesome!!” However, I had to wait for the results of my demonstration another 4 months. It was March 10 to March 15, and while I was waiting, I had learnt that they were decent about making money, at least; the headmaster built a school, a hospital, a shelter, and an orphan home, fair enough I think. I also learnt that after being a monk for a couple of years they have approximately, 200,000 baht in their savings, I guess, because everything is free, additional donations and a lot, a lot of stairways to heaven. Therefore, the number of savings seems to be accurate, and many monks actually were in heaven…before….in hell!

 

Breaking News, police arrested a popular respected monk in a 5-star hotel with a young woman…doing bedtime’s story! Caught a monk in a disco club! Arrested a monk…doing bedtime’s story with a young boy! It was on and on at the time like fashion shows!

 

Bombshell, some Thai residents captured pictures of a monk doing…hmm…bedtime’s story with…a dog behind a temple! I had to admit, that was overwhelmingly imaginable impetuous passion; I mean, I love dogs too, but… That was too much….imaginable…love…? for me.

 

Up north, monks seemed to like restaurants; I don’t blame them, it is better than walking in the morning with a giant bowl…looking for food! They also liked malls and markets, oh, and coffee shops for afternoon snacks with 2 iPhones, 1 iPad and….servants. Some said they also collected interest…cool, monks with talents…nice…done! On Valentine’s days, I saw some of them, buying flowers, red roses, and chocolate or girls’ things. I was not sure what happened to the nomenclature of poverty and chastity.

 

Although, I was told that there are some temples, in some forests and valleys that literally obey to the vows, I was going to go once, but the road to there was fissuring, no houses and no cell phone signal. Moonlight said if I did not turn around, she was going to kill me…twice! I did not find out if it is a place of privilege or not. However, from the

 

 

half of the way I drove, the monks over there are possibly religious and traditional like…no heaven…no hell.

 

The day of the moment of truth had come: March 10, 1990, was a spiritual awakening. Everyone who had a tattoo or more and…more tattoos needed to be in the present moment. So did I! There were tiny white ropes on the temple’s fence, trees, roofs, and hydro poles. The monks were gathering in a big circle and in the middle of the circle was a gigantic white table, which was full of objects that were about to become…prodigious. Such as Buddha statues (Prince Siddhartha Gautama) in different sizes, water bottles filled up with…I believe it was oil, which had expired scorpions or snakes or millipedes drowned inside them. I was informed by a lady who stood beside me that the bottles were ingredients of magical potions; each arthropod had its power. She also gave me a tip:

 

“If you want a man to fall in love with you, obsessively, put your first period in a soup or a coffee, and make him drink it. Write his name with your period on a paper at midnight and burn it. But beware of Cambodians’ dark magic, it is very strong! You want me to help you?” The lady.

 

“Ahmm…I’m fine with myself at the moment. Thank you for the information!” Me.

 

 

Well, I had never dared the experimental lovesick…Cambodians’ magic because I was thinking,

 

“What if after that…particular procedure, I find out that he does not have a giant male genital organ, but a small sparrow, what am I gonna do with him? Clearly, I can’t dump him, can I? Don’t even think about if I spell his name wrong, then I might end up with another man...or worse! The better way is to leave it alone!” Me, thinking.

 

Another reason I was there was because I was told that the activation reflected individual magical influence, it depended on animal allegories! For example, whoever had a snake tattoo would serpentine homogeneously. I was so excited!

 

 

As soon as the monks said the last word of the magical spell, some believers started shaking, some started crawling, some started yelling, some started screaming and…up on a tree or with legs and hands walking together on 4WD. When I turned my face back to talk to the lady, she disappeared, but an attention caught my eyes. There was the lady, rubbing her face on the sandy ground, so I pulled her up as soon as I could, but it was too late, her face was covered with sand and some…bloody…and both of her hands were bleeding!

 

“Why did you do that? I was going to become a snake!!” The lady, and the angry eyes.

 

 

“Oh, please don’t do that. You’re beautiful. Fuck the magic shit.” Me.

 

 

“If you stop me again, I’ll bite you. Do you understand?” The lady.

 

 

Undoubtedly, she was aware of her actions, nothing to do with magical influence, so I just let her be; besides, I did not want to get bit. Before I was going to move away, a man behind me asked,

 

“Do you believe in this…crazy?” The man.

 

 

“Well, I don’t know yet. I’m waiting to fly. A girl can dream!” Me.

 

 

He was going to say more, but a human with 4 feet was running toward to my…upright position. I could not fly yet, so I used my natural ability, ran to my car, which was just right behind me (after I burnt 3 dead bodies without recognizing them, the temple’s keeper gave me a private parking…spot?) The human with 4 feet stopped just only a foot from my car; I was not sure what my car insurance would have done if that…4WD human decided to strike!

 

At the end of the ritual, the tattooist said, “Remember, boys, don’t be under women or women’s clothing. The spells will wash away!” Hmm…he did not mention girls??? I did not try to discover the interpretation for girls and I did not bother to ask because by the end of the day, no flying for me. Moonlight said, “Maybe your bird is too small!!”

 

 

 

I met the headmaster of the temple…once, he was respected as a supernatural monk and every Buddhist knew him. The rich always came to see him, the poor just like myself could see him only if we had a fresh tattoo. However, he wanted to see me… personally and…privately, I was jumping. “Shit…Really?”

 

“The groundskeeper called me, said that you want to see me, sir?” Me.

 

 

“Ah, Skeptic. They tell me I need to talk to you. You’re looking for a religion. Is that right?” The headmaster.

 

“Yes, sir. But I have to admit, I’m not sure I want to be a Buddhist.” Me.

 

 

“Why is that?” The headmaster.

 

 

“Well, I don’t understand the nomenclature of Buddhists’ concept of heaven. In order to be definitely in heaven, I need to have a son who becomes a monk. Other than that I will be calculating indefinitely before heaven. What if I only have girls or infertility? Can I use somebody else’s son? Or do I need to adopt one?” Me.

 

“Are you worrying about heaven or hell?” The headmaster.

 

 

“Oh, no, not like that sir. However, if I’m needed to be worried, I probably worry about heaven more. I’m not sure angels like…crazy…Sir.” Me.

 

“Very well, in that case, you seem to be smarter than you look. Surely, you don’t believe in nonsense, do you? That’s why you keep mocking me, isn’t it? What are you looking for?” The headmaster.

 

“With respect, sir. I’m trying to understand the god or the word of gods. To believe in something, I need to understand what I am doing…Sir…If I don’t know what I am doing, then I am not going to do it. Moreover, how do I believe in inconstant uncertainty? Therefore, a principle is important. And the best way of discovering the answer is to talk with someone who knows about the god…like…God expertise. That

 

 

transported me to religious houses, the particular systems of faith and worship. Furthermore, there are so many religions, how do I know which one speaks directly to God’s will? Therefore, examinations should be appraised. As far as I’ve seen and learnt, they’re delusions and business proposals, nothing more.” Me.

 

“Because you only see one side. What about hope? Tell me, Genius, why did they want to have the tattoos? Why did they come for the ritual? Do you think happy people acted nonsense? Or, is the god only your curiosity? You want to discover something no one can with your intelligent theories...don’t you?” The headmaster.

 

“No…Sir! I do genuinely want to know what all the atypical superpowers…Sir. I understood those people are lost souls and they need someone or something to hang on or hold on to. But, don’t you think?…Physiology of bloody spread was… intimacy…sick…Sir. And the needle…hurt!” Me.

 

“So, you didn’t fly. Have you seen people around this area? No one has attainment. Not everybody is bright like you. Therefore, they don’t have necessities or goods or services. I’m not blind yet, a few people hurt for the good of many. I call it “Sacrifice!” I sit here all day and 365 days, blowing on people’s heads with some silly words.

 

“I’m 73 now. It’s hard for me to breathe already, but I have those people to care for, I’ll be sitting here as long as I can to help them. I was told that you’re helping them. You help them because you understand pain and hunger. You’re a skeptic because you know people are not generous. They give you something and they want something. It is a behaviour of human beings. How about I promise you, if someone is nearly dead in the process, I’ll stop the ritual permanently.” The headmaster.

 

In my up and down, I heard this word “SACRIFICE” interconnected to the word god or witchcraft, like Tom & Jerry! It bewitched me exasperatingly. But I had come to understand the headmaster. I was thinking it must have been laborious for him, as it was clear to me…no magic meant no people and no people meant no money and more importantly, there is no such thing as supernatural beings.

 

 

Blimey, there are so many…super voodoo in Buddhists’ beliefs; for instance, some trees have a woman-spirit uncomfortably living in them. Some are good and some…let’s just say…bitchy. If someone pisses on a tree, which is on the roadside, be careful of the bitchy one, she does not like people pissing on her. I had chances to examine some of that excessive credulous sorcery and it was, let’s say…illuminated…and successful experiments…murderous…situation!

 

I built my house in Chiang Mai after I got back from everywhere I was, everyone who lives around my still-being-built home told me,

 

“Never, ever move in between August 1 to October 27. It’s forbidden for moving into a new house! It’s very detrimental to you and your career. Even animals will not make a nest in your house during that specific time. And before you move in, you need a house celebration. You need at least 7 monks, original Thai dancers, and a fortuneteller. The monks cost 3,500 baht each. The dancers are about 2,500–5,000 baht for 2, and 4,000 baht for a fortuneteller.” The people.

 

I moved into my house on October 3 and no…no celebration…I did not want it! I did not want a pet! However, it was good to know when mice, rats, or buggies were going to be my home’s residents…I called the bug men to come on…28 of October… just to be safe and I liked living…alone! If my calculation was correct, in order to move into my own house, I had to pay all those…home magical treatments, 31,000 baht (USD

$970) with no guarantee of any…stroke of luck…no thanks. I took my chances with my design. Besides, fortunetellers and I were an administration of a state of armed conflict!

 

 

 

Once, before I went to Europe, I got a phone call from Ms. No Water; she wanted me to drive her to Chiang Rai (on the border of Laos and Myanmar) to visit a monk who was a fortuneteller with a high recommendation of magical power. I thought, cool! That was exactly what I was looking for. Here was a deal! So many people were, are talking about the miraculous of God’s power on earth. Therefore, it was a good idea for me to go to…hmm the source, hoping to find the answers.

 

 

The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Ms. No Water was enjoying my driving, until we reached there. Mr. Lunatic and Ms. Conscience told me, “Run,” but I said, “Don’t be a chicken!” The fortuneteller’s place was a 2-storey…house?

And…“Love Marble,” everything made of marble except the roof! It was an original Thai style, which was very expensive because most materials were handmade.

 

There were about 20 people before us, sitting on the marble floor, surrounded by Buddha statues and donation boxes (marble lover).

 

“Ms. No Water, I think this lady in front of us (pointed my finger) was here before her hair turned…white.” Me. (whisper)

 

“What did I said, no Mr. Lunatic today. Remember?” Ms. No Water.

 

 

“Oh, my dear. Everyone told me, he’s the only one who can help me.” The old lady. (whom I pointed my finger at)

 

“Forgive my idiotic Ms. Do you have a problem with ghosts?” Me.

 

 

“No! I’m here because someone tried to take my house away…from me. Look at this letter, it’s written 20,000 baht. But they sent me another one from a lawyer and it’s 200,000 baht. I don’t have 200,000 baht.” The old lady.

 

I was very excited…wow, could not think of any other way that the fortuneteller could do for her, well, that was why I was there.

 

When it was the old lady’s turn, I could see the fortuneteller better. Inexplicably, the fortuneteller could talk to a boy-spirit who appeared to have a pet…a buffalo…Ghost? Wow, I had to say goodbye to Harry Potter!

 

“Well, lady. House-ritual is the only way to secure your house…You need a branch from a tree. It must be taller than you. Stick money, as much as possible, on the branch, and bring it here. We’ll set a date for the house-ritual. It’s the only way, otherwise you’ll lose your house. Hurry, your time is running out!” The Fortuneteller.

 

 

 

“I don’t have any money. I’m going to lose my house.” The old lady, with tears.

 

 

“Don’t you have a family? Borrow from them. Ritual is the only way.” The Fortuneteller.

 

Normally, my…Mr. Lunatic and Ms. Conscience were not friends, but in that moment, they decided to be a temporary best friend and they made me do…

 

“Oh, come on. What the fuck!...Monk? Is something completely fucked up in your thick head?” Me.

 

“Come on, Miss. How can you possibly believe in this…gibberish, based on an invisible little boy…Shit! If the little boy…spirit is real, he’s just a bloody kid. And we know how kids are…Like a little chick’s head!” Me.

 

“How dare you!!!! I’ll send my buffalo to you tonight!!! Get out!” The Fortuneteller.

 

 

“Please do!! I’ll be waiting! Can you tell me what time or around when?? So I’ll be ready for a combat…Oh, will the boy come too?” Me.

 

Ms. No Water was already out of the entrance door when I finished my last…wish! I brought the old lady out with me…she was half willing, half traumatic. When we reached my car,

 

“Are you completely out of your fucking mind. Phone call? Right now?” Ms. No Water.

 

 

“Oh, come on. He’s gonna send his buffalo later…tonight, not now…Oh, hello Boss, how is the shits?” Me.

 

“Ok, it isn’t running well, but fine. Where the hell are you? Is someone crying?” Mr. Ok.

 

I told him what was happening inside the fortuneteller’s house and the crying.

 

 

 

“That’s why I’m calling. I don’t exactly want to know your shit. Can I borrow your lawyer?...Like borrow, borrow with no payment. You’re my last hope. I don’t have anyone else to hope for and you’re the only person I know who has a personal lawyer! Oh…Pleeeease….Boss.” Me.

 

“I see. And why the hell should I do that?

 

 

"Boss! She's crying non-stop, hello. Do you know what that means? Flood! Come on Boss, you don't want that, do you? I don't make much money at the moment and I don't know any lawyer. Oh, Boss! Ms. No Water says just send the fucking lawyer, so we can get out of here before someone murders us!” Me.

 

“Alright, I will call him, after you. How the hell…” Mr. Ok.

 

 

“Thanks, Boss, I miss you and Mr. Cute. Love you both. Bye!” Me.

 

 

Well, he said after me! I drove the old lady home, which was another side of Chiang Rai city…with the sound of the crying all the way; on the other hand, I was so excited all…the way home, I could not wait to tell Moonlight and the crazy doctor.

 

“Hey baby, I think you should wear a helmet tonight. Oh, a sheet, Red? Definitely red.” Joshy.

 

“Yes, Oh, should you get some rope, and a bat? In case you want to jump on its back…like a cowboy on TV.” Moonlight.

 

Moonlight, Joshy, and I were waiting and...waiting. Every time when Mr. Lunatic and Ms. Conscience were best friends, I was always in a situation of life and death.

However, the buffalo did not come, I was very disappointed because I was ready! I had my helmet, my red…sheet for buffalo’s tension and a bat! Can you see how disappointed I was? In the late morning, I got a phone call from Ms. No Water, asking about last night.

 

 

“Well, we were waiting and drinking. I mean, Moonlight and the doctor. I was smoking weed. But, I dressed up for the battle. Every time, when Spider walked passed some brushes, I was in the state for an activity…until 2:00 or 3:00 am. The buffalo must have lost its way and missed my place. It’s quite…brushy here!” Me. (yawny)

 

“Who the fuck is Spider?” Ms. No Water.

 

 

“My neighbour’s puppy. And he’s black. Can you understand the jumpy?” Me.

 

 

“Well, I thought if you’re dead, I’d go back to him...Right now. But…you’re clearly still…Never mind.” Ms. No Water.

 

Last chance for Buddhist membership, Plan B, I needed to find someone, not only an exceptional intellectual, but who also had a good heart; I did not want to cause myocardial infarction …again! Ms. No Water liked to see fortunetellers and therefore she had met someone who could see the past lives of…everyone.

 

He was about 45–50 years old with successes, known to be an intelligent businessman, and he was very religious…Buddhism, his name was Mr. OMG. Awesome, so cool, I loved it. When Ms. No Water asked me if I wanted to go with her to Mr. OMG’s birthday party, I said, “Absolutely, can I bring Moony?”

 

There we were, at a fancy restaurant for fancy foods at the ostentatious birthday….party! There were about 20 people, I guess. Mr. OMG sat in the middle of a long dining table…we sat at the end on the opposite side. The foods were quite exquisite; Moonlight and I were enjoying foods…and talking. Ms. No Water was enjoying…no water, what a nice evening. Until…something was shaking the dining table, so I looked…at Mr. OMG right away, not sure why. He was shaking, his vibration caused the dining table to vibrate and so our foods. Well, it was not good; we had not finished our meal yet…and we did not have the ability of…hmmm Eat and Shake! Before I could come up with something to stop the dining table from vibrating, Mr. OMG was speaking in Thai traditional language, which was fit only for a king. “I see your face, my child. You were in my past and you were my servant.” He meant a man who was sitting opposite him, and before he was going to say something else,

 

 

 

“Ms. No Water, can we go to the ladies’ room? We need to laugh right now.” Me. (whispering)

 

“Hey, you promised. Remember? No Mr. Lunatic?” Ms. No Water.

 

 

“That’s why we need to go to the ladies’ room…right…Now!” Me. (still whispering.)

 

 

When Moonlight and I had finished laughing and peeing, we went back…and when I was about to sit,

 

“You! I remember you. You were my mistress.” Mr. OMG, king version.

 

 

“Ahmm…Really? Now?…ah…Your Highness.” Me.

 

 

“Your Majesty, to be correct. Yes, you were my favourite one. We loved each other like no one could.” Mr. OMG, king version.

 

“W…Wow, I’m so…flattered…Sir. Oh, sorry, Your Majesty. What do you think I should do? Your…Majesty?” Me.

 

“Well, I miss you terribly. We’ll continue our relationship.” Mr. OMG, king version.

 

 

“Sir, Are you sure? She isn’t an expert of mental disorders of psychogenic problems, especially an abnormal social behaviour. I’m sure this…version of you will not compromise with…hers…Just so you know, it will end badly!” Moonlight.

 

Just like that, the king had vanished and Mr. OMG was back. He did not remember what was happening, thank goodness!

 

After that peculiar birthday party, I came up with a decision. It was supposed to be my second decision about gods or the god; however, I had reached my comprehension, no Buddhism for me. It was extreme imagination and plenty of highways to heaven; I think the Buddhists should listen to Led Zeppelin!

 

 

 

When my lesser imagination failed the Buddha, next was the Muslims’ religion, “Islam,” founded in the Arabian Peninsula in the 7th century. The ritual of observances and moral code of Islam, were said to have been given to Muhammad (Arab prophet and founder of Islam between late c. 500s to early c. 600s) as a series of revelations, codified in the Koran (The Islamic sacred book that is believed to be the word of God Allah). There are two major branches in Islam: Sunni and Shia.

 

I did not know about Muslims or their religions only from reading, but from incidents, which occurred in the south of my country showed me that they were

…manufactured of killing component. Breaking news was bombing a police station, restaurants, markets, temples, schools and school buses, which were full of children, and of course, 9/11.

 

Moonlight and I watched a documentary about Saddam’s war, once; American soldiers were trying to rescue American people who had been captured inside a building, somewhere in a Middle Eastern country. In the documentary, Muslim soldiers stopped shooting and prayed (salat)…about 15-20 minutes, depending on the day of the week.

 

I was thinking, “Seriously. Now? Between life and death?” I had to say, I was impressed! They were true believers, placing their absolute trust in their god’s hands…in the middle of…bullets. That was something…admirable even. After a while, one of the American soldiers found out about the prayer time, so they shot all of the Muslim soldiers, who died right there in the middle of the salat. I did not think I could do that…absolute trust in the middle of a field of bullets.

 

Moreover, the Muslims’ god is a sort of….angry god? I do not know how to fly a plane or make a bomb and I am clumsy, I do not think I can be of any good use.

Moonlight said, “If you become an Islam, we’re gonna need to have a serious talk!”

 

 

I was getting worried, maybe God rejected me because I only saw bloody and self- serving, which were representing the opposite direction of the word “God” Nevertheless, I admired the headmaster of the tattoo temple. It is not easy to be a good

 

 

person and it is very difficult for a good person to do a bad thing, yet sometimes it seems necessary.

 

Christians have many denominations; some are recognized and some…let’s just say, are too close to the god. However, as I was born under the Catholic religion, so I thought it was a good idea to start with the Catholic Church. Besides, Roman Catholic is the first religion of Christianity. Therefore, I was on my way to a Catholic church, which was pretty close to my place.

 

The church looked similar to a Thai temple except it did not have any expensive decorations. The church was surrounded by flower gardens and trees, naturally. At the front of the church was natural stone tile flooring with a northern fountain. I liked the church very much. Unlike other churches I had been forced to go; those were shining brightly and I could not see Jesus…clearly. This church was known as Jesus’s principle, no candles and no fancy, only Jesus and the cross. Some people were inside the church, meditating; to be honest, I was feeling like…close to the god. It was very peaceful inside the church and outside the church.

 

I do not think I need to tell about the history of the Catholic Church, as it is the largest Christian church with more than 1.29 billion members worldwide, so everyone knows everything!

 

“Hello, how are you Ms.? I’m Father G.” Father G, with handshake position.

 

 

“Very well…Father. Thank you. How do you do, sir?” Me, with handshake position.

 

 

“Very well, Ms., Father G! I’m not a sir. Are you a Catholic?” Father G.

 

 

“Oh…mm I’m not…sure, Father. I grew up under Jesus’s roof, but no one told me. My family is Catholic. Again, no one told me. Are you the headmaster of this church?” Me.

 

“Why do you want to see him?” Father G.

 

 

“Ah…Well, Father. I’m in the middle of a decision of…god or no god…” Me. (I told him about the religious investigations.)

 

“So, you want to walk to the right path, am I correct?” Father G.

 

 

“Oh, now I can say…thank God! Finally, Father, I found you! That’s what I’m looking for!” Me.

 

“I cannot discuss all those subjects with you. You don’t know if you’re a Catholic or you aren’t. Those subjects are taught to members only.” Father G.

 

“Always a catch huh…God! Why can’t you be…a good father? Don’t you think…Father?” Me.

 

“Ha ha. Well, no one knows. But, don’t you think the principle is morally correct behaviour and attitudes?” Father G.

 

“How do I become one? If I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m believing. What if my brain isn’t connected to the concepts, I’ll be stuck with you forever. Believe me, Father, you don’t want to see me when I don’t know what I’m doing!” Me.

 

“Haaaa…You’re a clever girl. Do you want to see the headmaster for all your subjects?” Father G.

 

“Not anymore, I think, you’re the right one…for the job.” Me.

 

 

“In that case, you have to see him.” Father G.

 

 

“Oh…Sh…ue, Really?...Ok…Can you point me…a direct direction?” Me.

 

 

“Here.” Father G, pointing to himself.

 

 

“Ahuh. I didn’t know…God likes comedy. Can you point me the right way to…the god then?” Me.

 

 

 

“Haa…How about we make a deal. You come here once a week and study the Holy Bible with me. When I see that you’re ready, I’ll baptize you…myself. Only then, I’ll discuss those subjects with you, honestly.” Father G.

 

“Hmm…Father. Is this a trap or a trick?” Me.

 

 

“Hm. Both. Depending on how you to see it. After that, if you disagree on those subjects, you can quit!” Father G.

 

“Brilliant! Shall we begin?” Me.

 

 

Father G was originally from Spain; he was sent to administer the church in 1985. He was a bright 57 years old. During the study time, we sometimes talked about life in general; he was a reasonable person. It is a quality of a good priest! He also organized a home for children and women who had been abused. I was on the right track…I thought!

 

After 2 months, Father G told me that the next lesson was a final discussion before my baptism. The Catholic Church’s baptism is the first of three sacraments of initiation as a Christian. It washes away all sins, both original sin and personal actual sins, and makes a person a member of the church.

 

“What do you think about your lessons?” Father G.

 

 

“I like the part about understanding, generosity, and forgiveness. But I don’t actually agree with many chapters about the punishments. Moreover, it’s so many rituals, which are conflicting and forbidden. And I have some questions about Jesus; was he divine? Or was he a human, with a wife and a daughter? This conflict was killing millions of people over 10 centuries. So, what happens to the Ten Commandments!!! Number 7, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ Is God supposed to mean…Forgiveness? Honestly, Father, I have been through many religious houses and I have to say, God seems to have a problem with antagonistic actions, oh, and his children. Do they have any psychiatrists in heaven?” Me.

 

 

 

“Don’t mock God! Conflict it is. But, how do we know? Is it exactly the words of Christ? How many versions of Bibles have there been to this day? And priests are only human, not God. You don’t need to see me if you want to confess. You just need a pure heart unless there’s something serious. You don’t need to go to church every week unless you want to. And you’re right; God is forgiveness, not punishment. About the bloody question, what do we care, divine or not divine? Jesus sacrificed himself for humanity. His existence was for the impoverished places, with a heavy emphasis on

the corporal works of mercy and the spiritual works of mercy, namely support and concern for the sick, the poor, and the afflicted. Why isn’t that enough? God or no God. Why can’t you believe without the questions? If you actually think, God means good.” Father G.

 

“So, it’s all about original sin then. Bad Adam! If he didn’t eat Eve’s apple, all killing would not have happened. And I would have been born with no sin. Still, I don’t get a big picture.” Me.

 

“Now, you’re mocking God…again. I don’t think he likes to hear that.” Father G.

 

 

“Oh, me too Father. Me too.” Me.

 

 

After the Baptism was finished, I genuinely felt fresh, no sins for…a day and Father G offered himself to be my godfather…even better, it was a nice day. What Father G said was connected into my chick’s head; fair enough, the god it was.

 

My brand new Christian version led me to an exorcism, which is the religiously spiritual practice of evicting demons and other spiritual entities from a person or place. Father G’s car was on strike, so I drove him to where the possession had occurred.

 

“You’re not serious…Right? Father. That wasn’t a ghost. That was…an attention problem. Don’t you think?” Me.

 

“And? I was serious. I’m a priest, for god sake!” Father G.

 

 

“So, you used the exorcism to fool an idiosyncrasy. That’s a lie…don’t you know?” Me.

 

 

“Don’t mock me! Today, exorcism is performed for people who have psychological problems. That’s one of them. Is it a sin? It depends on what you’re lying for. Don’t be dull!” Father G.

 

“Ah! Good to know. Father, does gossip mean lying?” Me.

 

 

“No, lying is a false statement. Gossip is a feather.” Father G.

 

 

“You mean…it flies away, right?” Me.

 

 

“Ah! You’re getting smart!” Father G, with laughter.

 

 

Actually, Christian churches in my country are compliant to obeying rules, they do not like being on television shows or news. Although, there were some priests with a young boy or a young girl…naked news like other countries, but there was very few. However, there were some unauthorized Christian churches, beating, killing, and a dominant organism that had a major effect on self-destruction…

 

One of my cousins had gone crazy (in the wrong way) after he became a member of an unauthorized church, and gradually killed himself in his beliefs. Moreover, many students and young adults did the same…just like my cousin…he jumped out of a building. It went on for a while, until a man hung his family and himself. The breaking news said he was a normal teacher before he became a member of…crazy…Christian church. So, the Thai government permanently shut them down by force. That actually happened in so many countries as well.

 

Everywhere I had been, I always visited old churches, I like the architecture.

There are so many churches in Europe, almost on every street except in Amsterdam. I think I only saw one or two, even though I stayed outside Amsterdam’s city (in Zaandam), I did not see any church in town or wherever else I went, only saw…coffeeshops…hmmm maybe that was…why!

 

 

Churches in Europe are magnificent, with a lot of decorations and so many attractive contribution boxes. Old churches are handmade, such as St. Bartholomew’s (London, England) founded in 1123, but Henry VIII smacked some parts off and later it had been rebuilt, the original building is at the front of the church. St. Stephen’s Cathedral (Vienna, Austria) founded in 1147, effortfully built, stunning architecture with a long history, survived World War II…well, some part was on fire and fell down, but had been rebuilt. Those churches made me think of Father G and his church…!

 

Even though I chose to believe that the god did exist while full of doubt, I had never told Father G because he was the first real live man of God I knew. He did not do bloody rituals or accounting, and money only came from generous people. He lived rudimentarily and he was a little talkative, but for the good of the god, therefore, I did not want to disappoint him.

 

I knew I was a sucky believer, but he understood me, and he always had some way to tell me that I should have done better! I was late for the church’s time…often, and I did not go to the church every week,

 

“Finally, you showed up. I thought you had already got bored of…me.” Father G.

 

 

“Sorry, Father, I’m kind of lazy with my students.” Me.

 

 

“I see. You were late. Don’t think I didn’t see. You were sneaking in. Do I have to open ‘Midnight Mass’ for you?” Father G.

 

“Sneaking? There were a lot of people at the door…Sorry, Father. How about I take you and God for lunch?” Me.

 

“Uhuh, that’s about right! Where are we going?” Father G.

 

 

I could not help it…the doubt…when I was reading histories about…god…church…popes. So many religions had drawn wars and bloody things, so many suicides, so many bomb lovers and all the incidents have been

 

 

repeating…forever? And stairway to heaven…boy, too many, not sure, which one is the best shortcut, never asked…I might get beaten.

 

Furthermore, I did not get the point of original sin really; let’s think logically and collaboratively. According to Greek and Egyptian mythology before AD, because Adam ate Eve’s apple, therefore they no longer understood God’s words or language, I am not sure which one. Why does the god make genders and hormones in the first place? And we know what happens when the hormones go…nuts, so I interpreted the god how…I understood, not from any bible, not any monk or priest, but my own understanding! I do not believe in original sin or other shit because I did not ask to be born…someone made me with a fucked up responsibility…no teatime…so original sin…can fuck off!

 

I had never prayed for anything; to be precise, I did not pray at all. Although I was once asking for help, it was a life and death situation, but no help came, I never asked again. Still, I thought just like everybody does, “God has a plan” or plans…not sure it was a good plan, though. I did not connect to the concepts. However, I believed Father G, “God is forgiveness,” even though I heard so many religious people like to say, “God will punish you” or “Condemn to hell for eternity!”…mann… have we not suffered enough??

 

Well, one night I was watching FBI Files, it was about a loving daughter who tried to kill mammy, daddy, and her young brother, but the daddy had survived. After police, FBI, and forensics pointed to the loving…killer daughter, undoubtedly and evidently, yet her daddy stood beside her, holding her, crying for her and begging for his daughter’s freedom!

 

So, if the god is a father of all just like every Christian told me, why cannot he be like the killer daughter’s father…right? Punishment and condemnation are not parenting, if the god has to condemn, we’ll probably see everyone in hell, and I don’t think Lucy would like that. More bombing and killing in many horrible ways, and in the name of Gods, made me think, “Really, Father? Don’t you want to do something about it?...Father…Daddy!”

 

 

Some churches I had been to…oh, I have to say…some were so….never mind! There were slanders and globular organs abused on…my little face in…God’s home, and in the middle of the Mass, that was supposed to remind them of Jesus…Ohh!

 

I was in a church far…far away from my country, in the middle of the Mass and about to do the greeting (handshake) with a middle-aged lady who stood in front of me. Someway, somehow, her hand lost its way and went to a man behind me and when I turned to the man…worrying about his handshake…hmm…the man was not cooperating with Jesus, no handshake for me. I did look at my hands…long looking!! Unpredictably, the church’s usher did not want to collect my donation and he noticed me with…a feeling of disturbed surprise resulting from…my face? I wanted to beg him “Please, let me go to heaven too?” but from his expression and a huge…shiny steel bowl filled with some money…never mind heaven!

 

Somehow, the surprise of my face went too far for the priests…well, that was... oh, no… they did not say bye-bye at the end of the Mass to me because when it was my turn to be in front of those priests who had “Sight-Effect” of my little face, it was like…

 

“OMG is that…..?” I was getting worried about my face, that day, I was staring at my face all day…

 

In a more surprising sequence of events, I met a man who was supposed to be a minister of a church, which was called something similar to…“Highway to heaven.” I was at his house because I wanted to return some gifts, which his church sent me by post. He was busy…shooting a big bird…chicken like, but the bird was not dead and it was wounded between its wing and the leg on its left side. The minister let his 2 terrier dogs tear the bird apart…alive! I was gone because Mr. Lunatic took over my brain,

 

“Why did you do that?” Me, with a high-power speaker.

 

 

“Oh, don’t worry. That was a bad blackbird.” The Minister.

 

 

“Wow, it must be very bad then. That’s why you condemn it to death? This is quite a fancy way of dying…don’t you think? I’m impressed. Are you sure? You are a minister…of …hell? You look more like…Animals Love Hunters.” Me.

 

“Jesus hunted too. If we don’t hunt them, there’ll be too many and too many diseases. In here, hunting is a sport. Nothing is wrong…you know!” The Minister.

 

“???...Wow really, did you have fun in the hunting season…Minister of death? Ya!!! Wow, that’s amazing…really? Do you have fun? Are you sure? Ya!!! Ok, how about I’ll get my gun. In the meantime, could you please…run! I want to feel how fun, knowing that a life I’m trying to take is scared and helpless. I’m very curious. Can you help me out? I want to feel the fun!” Me.

 

“Ahhh…” The Minister.

 

 

“Yes? I don’t think Jesus was a hunter. And if he was, he definitely did not do 20-man slaughtering…shooting…hunting? And he wasn’t a bird killer…hmmm he was a carpenter. I studied the Bible too, did not find one that relates to the 20 men hunting. What kind of “Bible” do you use?” Me.

 

(I had been told from the locals that the…shit minister likes hunting and how did he do it? Simple! He got his friends…hmmm about 10 people on one side with guns and another 20 on another side…slaughtering poor animals.)

 

“Ah…Ah, Holy Bible.” The minister.

 

 

“Really? Woo, did you read Deuteronomy 30:15? ‘I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you. That I have set before you, life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore, Choose Life, that you and your descendants may live’…Minister? Hellooo…” Me.

 

I had a chance to discuss with Father G about what I had been facing inside those religions’ homes, but he reminded me that they were just men and I did not need to go to those churches,

 

 

 

“Fuck them! I’m tired as much as you are, seeing this…these shits all over the place. Remember what I said? God is good and nothing more. Don’t let them drown you to hell. You’re God’s chosen. Have you ever thought? Why do they need churches more than you?” Father G. (upset)

 

“Hang on Father, really ‘God’s chosen,’ haaaa, you’ve got to be kidding me…Father? Me? Now, I’m getting a real…scare! By the way, you just used the F and S words.” Me.

 

“Ha ha. You do understand the god. Let’s just say…sometimes you’re bitchy, but nothing serious. You don’t behave like them because you understand God. Have you ever thought that way?” Father G.

 

“I still watch Harry Potter. Just so you know…” Me.

 

 

“I thought you don’t believe in gibberish.” Father G.

 

 

“I don’t. I like him. We had the same homogeneous childhood except I don’t have magic, otherwise, we’d have had a frog problem! Can you imagine me…and magic?” Me.

 

So, I completely understood what Father G said and I was…hmm proud of myself…huh?…I saw the point of Father G’s speeches, therefore I needed to talk to ‘The Fuck Them’ more…when I needed to feel special! However, the special came with brain bleeding…after the second conversation with the minister…shit; I did not think he wanted to talk to me anymore, like…in perpetuity, so cool. Actually, one of his followers came to talk to me about…permuting my Christian religion to their Christian religion:

 

“My Jesus is better than the Catholics’! I talk directly to our Mighty One when ‘HE’ appears to me.”

 

Wow…Amazing! I had to tell her that I did not have the ability to talk to the god, but it was good to know that the god is a He; I probably could not be useful to them…If

 

 

I have to talk to…the HE…hmmm directly, I would be afraid of my own interpretation!!!…Imagine…me with the…god…and the interpretation! Oh…boy!

 

Church-free I was until I got back to Thailand, working and building my house. Father G moved to the east of the country, helping people and operating a new church, and later he moved on from earth to heaven…

 

It seemed like…everyone could not run away from me in this earth…fast…and far enough! Mr. Ok, Mr. Cute, and Ms. No Water, they were my lifetime bosses and I was their lifetime employee, so I was piss…hmmm…about the way they ran away from me to heaven. Can’t really talk to them! The only boss left over is Mr. Glass, so I told him,

 

“If you run away from me to…Heaven, I’ll beat you when I get there! You get it?” Me.

 

 

“I thought you hate heaven!” Mr. Glass.

 

 

“I just go there to beat you...then get back to hell…where I belong…hello!” Me.

 

 

While everyone seemed to be in hurry…moving to…a place in regard to various angels…above the sky. And no Father G meant no god’s major discussions, therefore I was filled up with more and more…???

 

I did not think about the god, as working always…busy crazy until Mr. Wise (the real-life wise man) showed up in my…. abnormal unorthodox little life. At the time, I was having a hush with the god because more…shits seemed to be mired all over the world and I got dirty along the way!

 

Mr. Wise was in Thailand because of…me, and Moonlight’s funeral, which was very easy. Mr. Moody Be Good, Joshy, Mr. Wise, and I dumped her under a tree she grew 19 years ago. It was on a mountain in Chiang Mai province. After the…dump ashes, Mr. Wise and Joshy were with me for a couple of weeks, so I had some time to get to know him, as we hung out 24/7…I thought Joshy was crazy enough to spend a lot of time with me many years ago, but Mr. Wise…boy, 24/7 he was overreacting to me! I

 

 

was so worried; I might have infected him with my craziness just like I did to Joshy, in a very short time!

 

Somehow, we were having conversations about funerals and religions and how expensive and unnecessary the funerals…are, in Mr. Wise’s opinion! I thought, “Wow, excellent!” Finally, I found someone who was bloody smart, so it was going to be good for me to hear someone non-religious and a non-believer in any kind of manifestation attributed to some force beyond scientific understanding or the laws of nature. All my crazy bosses were non-believers, but they could not give me a clear explanation, I was interested to hear him talk.

 

“Well, I had an experience of an event, I haven’t come up with any explanation yet. At the tattoo temple, there were many dogs, and the locals told me when all the dogs came out to the front gate, a dead body would show up the next day. I saw it happen once, during my demonstrations of…ah…my superpower tattoo. They said the spirit came before its body. Well, what do you think?” Me.

 

“Conveniently, only the dogs can see it. I assume they’d talk to the dogs too! Did you look around? What was at the temple’s gate beside the dogs? People? Possibly? Have you ever seen a dog growling? Sometimes, it growls to one person, but not another. Do you know why? ” Mr. Wise.

 

“Ok, dogs and growling! Well, yes. First, I did look around and there were some people outside the gate, but it was late…dark! And yes, I did see a dog, growling to one person, but not another. I think it’s a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus such as smell, hearing, taste, and touch. It’s likely similar to the gestures of human behaviour between male and female, chemically created sexual instinct just like animals in response to certain stimuli. Therefore, the dogs in the tattoo temple responded to some human chemically. Moreover, animals follow their leader and they hunt in packs, working together with other members of their species, so all of them most likely act according to their leader.” Me.

 

“You nailed it! Interesting. Why the hell were you there so late?” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Having the miraculous tattoos conversations. So…no true love, no soul mate, just chemistry. Ahhh…sad!” Me.

 

“Isn’t it?” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“What about Stigmata? San Francesco d’Assisi, he was a priest. He could not lie, could he? And later, there were more…wounds all over, which had been investigating by the scientific study of super voodoo. Evidently, the wounds were identical. Should I go on?” Me.

 

“The permanent holes through your earlobes are identical. Did you notice? It was from an ear-piercing machine, wasn’t it? Because the machine’s impact thumped, simultaneously. Therefore, your wounds were identical. Others appeared to be different miracles of Jesus, which we did not actually witness the occurrence of, only people who were associated with the chosen one. A miracle is the extremity of the creation. I can say I’m a miracle doctor. But how do you know? I believe Jesus was known as a scholarly person who created a miracle with good intentions. History has said millions of people died because of a particular question, the divine. Why? Or, in fact, was it not just about the divine? A miracle doesn’t happen in contradiction to nature, but in contradiction to that which is known to us, as nature. (Ian Wilson, Stigmata). I don’t believe in God because I don’t need God who is only images or anything else to tell me what I should or should not do. Why can’t we be straight on according to the basic rule of law, human and natural? With responsibility, I don’t see why we need to worry about God, death, and another life if our conscience is clear. Why can’t we be kind and generous without the god? You’re a strong person with a high ability of awareness. Why don’t you try to believe in yourself? You always question your judgments. Therefore, many of your choices led you to theological misconstructions. You should and could have believed more in yourself, and let’s see if you can do better or you can do worse.” Mr. Wise.

 

“Oh…broken heart…what am I going to do with my…dead plan?” Me.

 

 

“Well, forget about it!” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“How? I’ve been planning for a long time! Like, literally plan it…the god has plans…or a plan, so I thought…I should have one too!!!” Me.

 

“You’re serious, huh. What is your bloody plan?” Mr. Wise (with no emotional eagerness…whatsoever!!!).

 

“Hmm…I was thinking if…and after I land in heaven, I need to have some discussions with…you know, the big G about parenting and…men? I was going to ask him if he could allow me…be Lucy’s secretary…in hell…you know…torturing bad souls is my expertise. And I have a big plan for the minister…the killer…tortured birdy…I told you about. What am I going to do now? You know, you washed my original brain away.” Me.

 

“You should know, you’re pitiful. You need rehabilitation and understanding. I’m sure whatever those pains were, it wasn’t your doing, but if you do what they did, then you aren’t different.” Mr. Wise.

 

“Hey, Doc! Don’t psychoanalyze me! I promise, you won’t like me when I’m being psychoanalyzed! I’ll think about it when I’ve time. You know, it’s a lot to take in one day…and breaking up with God is a very big deal…Don’t you think?” Me.

 

“Alright, as you wish. Funny, you trust someone or something you don’t actually know!” Mr. Wise.

 

“I’d not say trust…more like…follow the rules and instructions. I’ve got a religion and the religion comes with God, and the god comes with…a miracle! Like, buy over $30, get free sample…sort of.” Me.

 

“Really? Then what are you waiting for? Do you really need time to think about believing in yourself?” Mr. Wise.

 

“Hey, don’t be such an ass! I believe in myself…trust…hmm, I’m…idiosyncratic! But I don’t wait for God to give me anything or do anything for me. I just thought….just in case…you know what I mean. Besides, I’ve been with God for…20 years. I’ve known

 

 

you what…6 days? My knowledge of your decency is based entirely on Joshy’s report. And Moony only said….mm…never mind! Oh, ‘GOD,’ what am I going to do?” Me.

 

“Are you mocking me or your God?” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Both! Well, I like to think first. Last time, I didn’t take time to think of…something, I got half heaven and half hell, not sure about the justification.” Me.

 

“What was your reasonable decision about…the something?” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“…A miracle…shit hmm. Yes, you’re right. When I didn’t think, I led things on with nonsense ideas! However, I need to think about what you said. I’m a horrible believer!...Sir.” Me.

 

“No doubt…sure! You sleep on it. Be careful, I don’t want you to lose your sanity.” Mr. Wise.

 

“Oh, you don’t really need to worry about that. I lost my sanity long…long ago!” Me.

 

 

I did sleep on hmm…all those understandable subjects, which I had discussed with Mr. Wise. Sorry, Father G, you left me wondering alone. Now I’m not just church- free, but also…God free and the important reason of my…break-free is, if the god exists, why he lets those people…hmm, the Fuck Them (Father G’s version) represent him, I would not…really. Jesus knew that he was going to die…extreme physical suffering, he did not run, he did not kill himself and what did the Fuck Them do? Am I right?

 

I am not sure how things are going to go…up or down. Let’s see…like Mr. Wise said, “If I can do better in a human way.” However, please do not follow…new me, follow your opinions. I cannot say my new me is a correct version; to be precise, I don’t really want to drag anyone to hell with me. I hope I can remember everything after death and if the god does actually exist, he and I are going to have many serious conversations about parenting, men and…Adam! Oh, and the bloody Plans!

 

 

 

 

Relationship-Shit, Love, and Lover

 

 

Relationships and relation-shits are interconnected with each other somehow, in an…impossible comprehension, how it happened or basically, out of the…what? Oh...blue! Sometimes, I was curious about the word “Love” as much as the word “God.”

 

So many people have fallen in love and some say that there exists a community with 100,000 married…happily ever after couples, however very few people are capable of marriage…oh…shit, for reasons such as age, education, etc. If 1,000 people obtain divorces and 1,000 people get married in the same year, the ratio is one divorce for every marriage, which may lead people to think that the community’s relationships are extremely unstable, despite the number of married people not changing. OH…

 

This is also true in reverse: a community with many people of marriageable age may have 10,000 marriages and 1,000 divorces, leading people to believe that it has very stable relationships (Populations Study). Everything has 2 ways, as always…

 

Love is the most profound of emotions, but most people seek its expression in a romantic way…like Romeo and Juliet’s relationship. Moreover, love is the most meaningful element of life, the ability to have a healthy…and an intense feeling of affection. Psychologically speaking, a loving relationship is not innate. In a little human’s earliest experiences with a caregiver who reliably meets the infant’s needs for food, care, protection, stimulation, and social contact. Those relationships are not destiny, but they appear to establish patterns of relating to others. Failed relationships happen for many reasons, and the failure of a relationship is often a source of great psychological anguish. Most of us have to work consciously to strengthen the skills necessary and to make them flourish.

 

 

Well, think in an easy way, it is like “No pain, no game.” Relationships should be a keen intuitive awareness; sadly, few people are capable of understanding a sane and realistic attitude to master situations and problems.

 

I met a lady somewhere…far, very far from my home country. I did not actually know her…to be precise, did not know her name until a year later! But I knew her 2 little daughters, met them once before an incident happened. I was walking in a shopping mall, enjoying a moment of never mind shit. The 2 little daughters ran toward me with an expression of a typical smile, and said, “Hello, Aye. You look beautiful.” I wanted to say something back to them, but I was not fast enough, the lady mammy took hold of them, exerting force on their arms to pull them in another direction, and out of my sight…like hard! Poor little girls…that probably hurt! After that day, I saw them again at some No Welcome You Party. The girls already disliked me…more like…“I hate you…now”… Is it legal to teach children “Hatred” when they are very little? So, how would they understand “Love” when the “Hatred” had been taught…first????

 

On my way…I had been seeing…let’s just say 100 different kinds of relationships, and only 5 were obtained healthy relationships! The 40 was…I do not think “Unstable” is the right word and I think, it would better be “Enforced” which ways? I have no idea. And the leftover 55 was broken…down into…bitch…asshole…slut…motherfucker, and so on. I was practicing all those words in case I needed them myself!

 

Two young adults on my path, they were sisters, and the baby sister told me that she and her big sister were not only sisters, but also Best Friends.

Somehow, someway, the big sister did not think so, and had her own version “Be careful!! My sister is an extremely selfish person!” However, they appeared to be “Best friends” and they convinced me with their…actions? I had seen…the Best Friends’…performance for quite some time, believed it even. But, when the dark time came for the big sister, the best friend…strong, loving baby sister was on her way like…always somewhere in a speedy way…and no time to…help? After the event, they were in the enforced relationship.

 

 

Another relationship I had seen, which was supposed to be real-life best friends. The best friend number 1 was his best friend’s “Cupid.” However, it was not just an arrow he shot, but he also shot his male genital organ of higher vertebrates into “Hers” after…his best friend and…the-hers…wedding! I was so confused, seriously, is that against human law? Clearly, it is ok with the law of nature…look at hmmm… The Dogs! They ended up in a broken relationship along with bitch, asshole…!

 

The 5 healthy relationships were very cool; they seemed to adjust to each other just fine. I was in the 5 healthy relationships…with Moonlight, of course. She was my best friend and none bio sister, even though we were different in many sentiments, but we were one when it came to humanity. I was thinking about how was our relationship? Was it unstable? We were like…married couple, except we did not do the bedtime story, and…everyone knows, how the marriage life goes!

 

Moonlight was fatherless…more like runaway father, and after Moonlight’s father was gone, her mother became Mr. Johnnie Walker Black Label’s girlfriend. Fortunately, she had grandparents who took care of her when she was little!! As Mr. Johnnie Walker Black Label loved her head so much, her grandmother had to send her to the boarding school for the sake of her future and…her head.

 

And things had gone to…no human being at our boarding school and that led her to the point of, “We have each other, that’s all we need!” She meant me…us! Sometimes, when some disagreements occurred we just fought each other…for fun!

 

“Love is stupid when it comes to a dick! Why do you want to know? The only good thing about falling in love is the fucking…no dick, no fucking, and no thank you.” Moonlight.

 

“Well, how are you gonna get fucked if you don’t fall in love? Many of our friends are falling in love. Don’t see any problem?” Me.

 

 

 

“Yes, let’s see 5 years later, how things go!” Moonlight.

 

 

“Don’t be such a bitch. They seem to love each other.” Me.

 

 

“I’m not. Really, remember the jumping girl. Love does that. If you’re in love, don’t hop out of a building like the jumping girl! I don’t want to see you on another side…looking like…fish in a can that had been thrown….to the ground!” Moonlight.

 

“You just want me to stick my ass with you at all times!” Me.

 

 

“I just say the truth. Have you seen anyone happy…real happiness? Where does the bloody love go? We’re the fucking living proof. You’re an idiot. You want to know everything. Go on, fucking in love and leave me alone, would you?” Moonlight.

 

“Hey, I’ll never leave you alone no matter what. Hey, I know it’s hard, but Moony, I’d want you to try. We aren’t dumb! We just have to love someone good. It’s not going to be easy…as you’re right. But, just try. Out there, I’m sure there is someone who shares the same pains.” Me.

 

“Why the hell do I want to do that? I don’t need a man to have a dick?” Moonlight.

 

“Because Moony, if something happens to me I want you to have someone. Some nice…dick would be…cool huh?!” Me.

 

“You’re always with me even when you’re not. Every time, when I miss you I just…go crazy like…you!!! Did I tell you? We have each other, that’s all we need! The rest of everything is just a path and shits. Just so you know, most of ‘They share the same pains’ are serial killers. You and I haven’t killed anything yet…Does not mean we are not going to! You’re in particular…crazier than before. Do you know?” Moonlight.

 

 

 

“Bitch!!!” Me.

 

 

It was always us and I hope she is waiting…

 

 

Something was upsetting my residents…in my brain…which I had never thought of…hearing it! Mr. A+, my senior from art school, who I had not seen since he was out of school for his family business. I met him again at Mr. Moody Be Good’s place. He was so excited to see me, but when I told him I was a professor, his action was turning to something…a feeling of discontented longing aroused by my possession of being a professor!

 

“Bitch is getting good, don’t you think A+?” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

 

“Hoy, teaching is easy.” Mr. A+.

 

 

“Yes, you can say that huh! How about you? How are shits?” Me.

 

 

“Oh, good, except my parents died 6 years ago in a very short time apart.” Mr. A+.

 

“Yes, I forgot to tell you.” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

 

“Oh, shit…I’m sorry for your loss. What happened, if I may ask?” Me.

 

 

“Oh, cancer. They spent all the money and mortgaged my house. Fucking shit, left me nothing!” Mr. A+.

 

I did not have loving parents who built me a photo shop or bought me a car. I did not know how it felt like to have parents…like his. But, Mr. Lunatic and Ms. Conscience once again, became a best friend for…diehard mission, and they made me say,

 

 

“Wooh, wait…my brain froze…hoo…It’s your house…huh? I thought it was theirs? Never mind. And where the hell is your photo shop?” Me.

 

“I sold it. I needed money. Now I’ve nothing. My wife gives me 200 baht per day. Very suck! Bitch never calls when I’m not home, checking on me if I’m still alive. You know.” Mr. A+.

 

“Wow, sounds pretty sad. I feel sorry…really! Hey, do you like mirrors?” Me.

 

 

“Yes, everyone uses it. Why???” Mr. A+.

 

 

“Well, maybe you’d look at it more. And I fully agree that 200 baht per day isn’t enough, especially for you! Maybe, a woman’s skirt isn’t a good place to hang on. It’s kind of slippery…women’s clothing…hmm.” Me.

 

So, after the conversations, Mr. Moody Be Good and Mr. A+ were in an unstable relationship…I must have said something wrong, my poor Mr. Moody Be Good, he was…sort of quiet for all the conversations…it was not like him, to be a quiet man! However, Mr. Moody Be Good did say, “Let’s not see him more shall we?” Ahuh!

 

More I had seen…feel like I was living in the middle of a natural instinctive state of…mindless deriving from irresistible relationships!

 

“My dad never has time for me. Every time, I talk to him, he just gives me some money!” Girl 1.

 

The Girl 1’s daddy was working…more work…after the divorce cost him

$$$$…whatever. He also had his personal life to deal with…Men’s Things! And in my own…eyeballs, he was just fine, as a parent. Although, I thought he was not a type of parenthood, but he did what he knew…and he was fair. I would have been happy ever after on my way if I had him, as a father. Shit, I wanted to do many things I could not afford… like, flying (birdy tattoo did not work!) or car racing hmm…guns, shooting? Whatever!

 

 

“When I die, I’m going to give my son $1 in my will. Ha ha!” Parent 1.

 

 

The Parent 1 divorced his wife in an angry way, however, they had a son who was damaged…inside…his skull, since he was too little to understand what the bloody war was between the 2 of them…who chose to fuck. And of course, fucking makes babies! The war led the little innocent boy to be an ass man…sometimes. And the hatred of his father that had been planted in his brain from his mother…since forever…led him to be the one who is going to give his daddy a new name, which is likely to Mr. A+’s parents…“Fuckshit!” when the will is opened!

 

Actually, I did say something to the daddy’s…friend,

 

 

“Really, he wants to move to heaven with the Fuck words behind his back…not sure how long it’d go on.” Me.

 

That is how the community’s relationships are extremely unstable…I had seen those…relation-shits over and over in many places and of course, my own family. To be honest, I have no idea where to start, if I wanted to do something about…the shits. Some of them made me…feel like, “Thank Goodness, I don’t have parents!” I saw a mother…dripping hot water on her 6-year-old son’s hand for his punishment of…whatever the fuck it was! I tried to come with…again a plan, “How can I cause physical pain or injury to someone I’m supposed to Love And Protect?”

 

How can we fix someone who refuses to cooperate, especially in human law and nature? How can we fix something that is already broken since coming into existence? The relationship is the way in which people are connected in the state of human development, isn’t it?

 

When I was pretending to be a local in Amsterdam, I had to do some research, which helps a lot for being a pretender. However, I have to say some pretenders did not do any research at all, for example, “Oh, my stomach ALWAYS hurts” while her one hand was on her quite large lower belly…I had

 

 

to correct her hand…to the exact stomach’s location. Or maybe, she needed to poop? Oh, that was why!

 

 

 

Anyway, the locals in Amsterdam were…I was not sure what was really going on? Lots and lots of tourists, money keeps coming, and it seems to have a lot of jobs, but the locals did not seem to be…happy ever after…somehow! So, Mr. Lunatic agreed that we needed to investigate this…shit! I went to the coffee shops…bought some weed. Well, it was a good plan and it was not about doing drugs! Weed lovers are smiling people and easy to talk to, so it was a good plan! I was sitting alone at one of the empty tables; a young man dumped his ass at my table and asked if he could join me! I was a bit…concerned…not sure if he was a civil force! I thought, “Shit…a lot of empty tables…huh…am I going to sit in jail?” Well, my research said that it is ok…with the weed! However, he started smoking…cool. I came up with a plan that had gotten me to know them…the locals, a little, and their unhappiness. As he was a local government’s employee…so cool, I was right to the source, ha.

 

Turns out the taxes are so high along with everything else, while the economy incomes are still low! And I think a few people who were happy, were shop’s owners, unlike in Jamaica, Moonlight and I had more fun! But we did not do the weed because of so many warnings. Before my thought went too far the young man said,

 

“Hey, do you want to come back here again in the evening? I can take you to another place. They play cinema movies. It’s a very nice place.” The young man.

 

“Oh! …Hmm, I would love to, but…here is the thing. I escaped from my serial killer lover. Who chops people for a living…I need to go back to my…jail soon and jump into my shower room before he comes back from town. Otherwise, I’ll be a…body part tomorrow!” Me. (Weed is forbidden at home!)

 

“Are you joking right?” The young man.

 

 

“Hmm…the serial killer was a joke, but the chop people for a living wasn’t!” Me.

 

I was not sure why, but he left in a hurry! Anyway, I was thinking maybe because of the economic problems and things getting very expensive, money changes people…a lot.

 

I met a lawyer who came to Chiang Mai for the miracle monk…ghost shit, helping the old lady who I met on my…A Miracle Hunt! The lawyer taught me that sometimes, good people did bad things because of money. “When money is a trouble, it changes people.” I had never thought of how I handled my situations. All I was doing…was to feed my workers and…me…surviving…I am still a poor little shit.

 

I was thinking about the 2 sisters, Best Friend, money seemed more important than love to them…obviously! It was kind of an awkward situation for me when one of them wanted me to say, “I love you.” Oh…boy…what did I do to deserve the honour? I was jumped to another dimension. However, I did not say the words because I did not know how to love her like she did me, according to the love for her…sister…best friend? Whatever! Some people told me in that area of the earth, “How are you?” and “I love you” were only a courtesy and…in some levels, she must have loved me! Wow, shocking, I did not understand…the levels of love? I did not have one and if I say I love you, meaning, I actually love the person like “Please drag me to hell with you!”…that is how I understand love.

 

Sometimes, many times, I was thinking, “How the hell do humans get into those…shits?” Do we understand what are we doing… now? Do we appropriately use the only method of human communication with responsibility?

 

“We can’t live without one another (me)” a lady said to me, I did not significantly know her. That was what jumped me to the…Mars!

 

 

Everything that is full of doubts, is full of shits…that is my philosophy…after…knowing!!!

 

Mr. Wise said to me once that everything happened because we made it matter and how we made it matter! If, we just stop thinking and asking ourselves “Am I sure I want to do this?” or “Do I know what am I doing?” And if it does not work, do not try to run away from problems and leave shits all over…especially, if the problem is a little human.

 

Coming to the lover relationship, it is an amazing intense feeling that was what some people said and the feeling of deep affection?…sounds cool. My first face-to-face with a love story was…hmmm I think…it was the love!

 

My year 2 in university, and …I was on a street in front of the building. It was an anatomy class, and we were supposed to draw human parts; I was walking like…life had never been better until something intercepted and held my eyeballs in one place where a girl’s body came…down to contact with some grass and flower plants quickly and forcefully. I thought it was for anatomy class! Before I moved my little feet speedily, I could hear someone give a long piercing cry and by the time I reached the girl’s body, the sound had turned to the word “Help” I was there with the girl’s…body, trying to check if she was still on this earth. One side of her neck was stuck with a…piece of…wood; I took my socks off for the bloody and held her neck up a bit…hmm like doctor 101. (I could not take my t-shirt off; more screaming might have been…louder!)

 

I tried to stop the bleeding, but not much I could do, I did not even finish my first semester at pre-med…I was told later that she was in love with one of my classmates, but he was not in love with her! That day, I was in a lower mood, thinking, “Really, love made people think they could fly?” I was walking class to class with my bloody t-shirt…all day, just for fun, the chicks at school…loved it…loudly!

 

I called Ms. Goody and told her what I had been facing, but the girl died anyway.

 

 

 

“Well, sweetheart. What do you think?” Ms. Goody.

 

 

“Hmm…don’t know. Never looked at boys. They don’t look at me! I’m still on Bob Marley version! I don’t understand, why we’ve to die in the process of love. I’d have been dead long ago…if that is the point!” Me.

 

“Haaa, you don’t have to! How did she live her life before him? She was too young to give away something so important, don’t you think?” Ms. Goody.

 

“Ahuh. Well, how do I know I wouldn’t end up on the top of…some building…if I love someone? I don’t want to jump out of a building…like that! Don’t like bushes.” Me.

 

“You can jump off a cliff when you meet someone who truly loves you. That would be worth it.” Ms. Goody.

 

“Hmm…why would I do that, if he truly loves me?” Me.

 

 

“Exactly, sweetheart! You wouldn’t die when you’re in love.” Ms. Goody.

 

 

“How do I know? Men are sweet-candies, a sugar smiling. So boring actually!” Me.

 

“You’ll know what to do when it comes to you. I know you won’t disappoint me, and I know that when you fall down you’ll find a strength to walk again.” Ms. Goody.

 

“Hmm…I think, I shouldn’t do love for now. I don’t like jumping. But, got it Ms. Goody, love someone who loves me then. I love you.” Me.

 

That was my first reason about love…with again…I came with…plans, the way of knowing men were to get involved with men and it was easy for me. Men were just right on my…everywhere. At the school, my class had 35 students, 5

 

 

girls and 30 boys…to be precise, 3 girls, 2 tomboys, 2 ladyboys, and 28 full option boys. At work (Professor Daddy’s), 14 men and 2 girls, me and a receptionist. At the job sites, there were always men.

 

“Mr. Hardly, have you ever been in love?” Me.

 

 

“What the fuck do you think? Why am I here? I have a son, 6 years old.” Mr. Hardly.

 

“Really? Oh, why did you marry your wife?” Me.

 

 

“Oh, she has a nice ass and is an excellent cook!” Mr. Hardly.

 

 

“So, if she did not have a nice ass, would you still marry her?” Me.

 

 

“How the fuck do I know? She has it!” Mr. Hardly.

 

 

At the time, I did not understand why asses were important, but it must have been because my boy classmates liked to talk about it. I was wondering around, tried to find out “How do men do when it comes to girls and love?” So far, it seemed to be tits and asses…oh, and the kitties! I was getting worried about…mine… One evening, I got a chance to talk to Professor Daddy.

 

“Why did you marry? Have you ever been in love?…or used…that before you got married?” Me.

 

“What the hell? Hey, do you know, you’re talking to an old man?” Professor Daddy.

 

“And?? What is wrong?” Me.

 

 

“Girls don’t talk about an old man’s sex-life. Are you bloody chick’s head? What are all these bloody curiosities?” Professor Daddy.

 

 

“Men, love, something like that. After that girl hopped out of floor number 7, I was curious about love. Ms. Goody said love someone who loves me. And I’ll know what to do when it comes for me! It sounds too confusing a conundrum for me! By the way, the seniors call that girl, The Hopped Girl!” Me.

 

“Ah, I see. I heard you scared the hell out of people all day! Listen, I know you think that was stupid. Many were thinking the same, but you’ll never know it’s stupid or it isn’t until you were in the same broken emotion. It’s profound how someone could possibly love another that much, don’t you think? Or, it was fun to you, wearing her blood all day…mocking the dead?” Professor Daddy.

 

“…No, I’m sorry. I was playing with those chicks in the product major. Did not mean to. So, you agree with the jumped off?” Me.

 

“Of course not. It was sad. Hey, you know, right? You won’t fall in love only once in a lifetime? Love would come again and again until you’re sure, this is a right person.” Professor Daddy.

 

“Ahuh, look at me. I was supposed to be a product of the love! Turn out I am a PTHD, OCD, and autistic!! How do I know which one is a right person?” Me.

 

“Easy, when you find out what kind of person you want to be with. But, don’t be picky and biggie. You might spend the rest of your life alone!” Professor Daddy.

 

“Ah! Don’t worry! I’m not that pretty! Get it!!! You’re bloody smart! So…you did use…your…before you married…right?” Me.

 

I was running as fast as I could before something knocked on my little head…ouch! Many years later, I was told that a rich old man killed his 19-year- old wife, so I was curious about the old and the young. Moreover, my very own grandpapa, a 77 years old man who liked to sleep on the top of the mother’s cement –fence after… hmmm out all night with 18 years old girls… So, I had … again, plans!

 

 

“Joshy, do you like young girls? How was it…young…kitty?” Me.

 

 

“You need to go there huh? Why do you want to know? I’m a man, have you ever noticed?” Joshy.

 

“Joshy, are you sure, you are a bloody surgeon? Don’t see asses and tits enough? I’m your friend. So, all of me comes with our friendship. Like, buy one get a free lunatic. We talk about girls today! So???” Me.

 

“Of course, if I think about sex only, young is cool. But, it wasn’t always good though” Joshy.

 

“Ah, so young is good for…intercourse with. What do you mean? It isn’t always good?” Me.

 

“Hmm…well, sometimes it wasn’t going with the plan. Sometimes it was too noisy or too many games. What about you, never had older men interested in you?” Joshy.

 

“Well, my dead fiancé was 7 years older than me. But, he wasn’t old…old you know. Although, I met an old once, he was old enough to be my daddy. He called me one night after we met at a party…right, Moony? Yaa! And he said, ‘When I look at the moon, I see your face. When all stars are reflecting, I see your eyes, looking down at me!’ So, I told him when he becomes an astronaut, I would date him. I want to see space! Haven’t heard from him since!” Me.

 

About the noisy and the games, I was told by my other friends, who had the same noise problem.

 

“Well, they were young. Everything was nice! But of course, they were also immature. They didn’t understand or carry on conversations.” A Canadian friend.

 

 

“What about the…emotion that is forcible than it is justified! Screaming perhaps? My Switzerland friend told me that he had to cover a girl’s mouth…while they were…bedding!” Me.

 

“Oh yes, sometimes! Like ‘Oh, fuck me…. squawking …’ what did she think what I was doing? Reading a bedtime story?’” A Canadian friend.

 

“Ok, too much of the sound of happiness isn’t a happy time! Got it!” Me.

 

 

I had heard something even more interesting, how 2 people had an intimate relationship. I met a girl on my way…somewhere; she was nothing that men would say, “Beauty.” However, she was not hmmm…ugly and she had a good career, young and sweet! Her boyfriend was nothing that an ordinary girl would dream of; so I was very curious, but never asked…I did not want to get beaten! However, when the relationship downed from hell to the bottom of the hell, she told me, “I’m with him because I do not think I can do any better.” I did not know what the hell that meant until the Canadian friends educated me.

 

“Well, some people do not feel comfortable with themselves. They don’t feel confident with either their bodies or their looks. They don’t have self-esteem.” A Canadian friend.

 

“Oh, really! Wooh, hmmm, how many are they?” Me.

 

 

“Oh, many of them.” A Canadian friend.

 

 

“Do they love the…‘I don’t think I can find any better’ partner?” Me.

 

 

“I don’t think so. This kind of relationship exists because some people are afraid of loneliness.” A Canadian friend.

 

I think that was sad and no one should look at themselves that way.

Everyone has something bright and everyone has something dark, moreover,

 

 

everyone perfectly has a quality of being attractive in a pretty or endearing way…. oh except me, I do not have either of that!

 

Furthermore, I met another woman who married a man she did not… like? She talked incompetent about him…like before and after…with everyone! I thought, boyfriends or husbands were for…hmm intense exciting, not for barking…hmmm right? I was wondering, something might have been wrong with their…brainless. It was one of…the shits I could not think of…how the marriage would have gone, Enforce or…Bitch…Asshole…I told you, human drove me crazy.

 

My first love came when I was still a student and I did not expect that it would come too soon. However, it just dumped its ass straight into my office (Professor Daddy’s) and I had never ever thought…love came with…guns and…bloody.

 

I supposed to have a meeting with the Blinds & Covers owner…not…guns, but he was sick, so he sent his young brother in his absence.

 

“Who’re you? Are you looking for Professor Daddy? Or, you’re silly and lost your way?” Me.

 

“I’m looking for someone named Aye. The reception told me to walk here!” Arti.

 

 

“So…what the hell do you want?” Me.

 

 

“Must be you then. I have been warned!” Arti.

 

 

I did not ask what he had been warned, did not want to know, however, after he gave me all the new arrival samples and effortfully explained all the new products with a very weird dude Thai’s accent.

 

 

“Ah…Mr.? That fabric’s samples are for…furniture…not a floor…hello! Not for windows either. Are you sure, you can sell me something you don’t…know?” Me.

 

“Arti, me! Well, he’s bloody sick. And I thought I just drop it off for him.” Arti.

 

 

“Ahuh. You’re still here. And you’re still talking. No need to explain all that. It’s just a waste, talking something you don’t know!…Sir.” Me.

 

“I want to talk to you. Do you want to have dinner with me…sometime?” Arti.

 

 

“Get out of here before I get Mr. Hardly! Trust me, you do not want to see Mr. Hardly!!” Me.

 

He was gone, as commanded, but not very long…he showed up another day and another day for a week, wanted to pay for dinner. He also followed me to school…so Mr. Lunatic said to me, “That’s it, do something chick’s head.”

 

“Hmm…why are you here? This is university…students…not a bar or a park, don’t you notice?” Me.

 

“I want to see you and…talk to you.” Arti.

 

 

“I already said, no thank you… Remember? Do you have a job? Really, this isn’t a place to pick up a chick!!” Me.

 

“Hey, I’m not here, picking up chicks. Come on, have lunch with me. I know it’s lunchtime.” Arti.

 

“Ok, dick-head. For once, and go somewhere else, bring…all this delightful arousing…conventional…smug…pretty of yours far away…ok?” Me.

 

“Haaa. Depends on how you look at it!” Arti.

 

 

Arti was half Japanese and half Thai; his father was a big…Powerful member of old-time Yakuza. His mother was a Thai woman who owned a strip- bar, a night-girls club and a tavern, and they were at the same area. He was the only son of a big-boss Yakuza, but not to his mother. His mother had 2 sons before married to the big-boss Yakuza. He told me he was in Thailand because he was looking, examining, and taking Thai girls to Japan for his family businesses!

 

What a wonderful world. Really, I was so…given way to…anxiety! My mind was on the mode of dwell on trouble! Thank goodness, I was in school, not a restaurant. Before I was going to say…something after he told me…about himself,

 

“Hey, who the hell is this?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Ah…ah, he…is a big giant powerful Yakuza’s…only son!” Me. (All my residents in my head were caused a great deal of impulses of anxiety through my spinal cord, all the way to my muscles and my organs.)

 

“Oh, Hi, Mr. Yummy. I’m her buddy. What the hell do you want?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Have lunch with us, please. Arti is my name!” Arti.

 

 

“Mr. Second power! There won’t be us. I don’t think my brain can take it. And I don’t want to wear bulletproof all the time, too heavy! Take no offence; I don’t know you and I don’t think I want to. I’m still a student with a homeless situation…don’t really want to have an agony love. Please, understand.” Me.

 

“What do you mean, homeless situation?” Arti.

 

 

“Nothing. It was just a phrase…dude! I’ve to go. Study, work…you know? And you! Moony, really, Mr. Yummy? Move now!” Me.

 

 

After the event at the school, I did not see or hear anything from him, not even a shadow and life was just about…fine. Until, there he was, after disappearing for…about 3 months, he was at my apartment door, and on my only day off!

 

“Hey!!! How the hell do you know where I live? Shit! Are you stalking me?” Me, full of pissed-off energy!

 

“Hey, can you stop being such a fucking bitch. I asked my brother. I just got back from Japan and I miss you.” Arti.

 

“Perfect!! What did I say? Something is totally wrong with you!! If I knew Mr.

Silk has a serial killer brother, I would not have him dumped me home!” Me.

 

“Where is Moony?” Arti.

 

 

“I’m having a poop.” Moonlight, from…our bathroom!

 

 

“I’m not a killer ok? I just run my father’s businesses. Believe me or not, I’m an international lawyer!” Arti.

 

“Wow, my life is getting better and better huh. You’re not just a killer, but also a fucking lawyer and a bloody international one. Great…that’s just great! Why are you here?” Me.

 

“Pick up you and Moony.” Arti.

 

 

“To do bloody what??” Me.

 

 

“Shopping of course! I came here earlier, but you were out.” Arti.

 

 

“Oh, Aye, I’m ready.” Moonlight.

 

 

“Seriously Moony?? You know he’s a Yakuza, right? And what he wants, is my…kitty. And he’s a fucking lawyer with guns. What if I don’t want to fuck him, have you ever thought of that? We might end up under some crop or worse…eats us!!!” Me.

 

“I’m still standing here!” Arti.

 

 

“I know. I still see you! Moony, hello!!” Me.

 

 

“I already had a talk with Mr. Yummy. He’s ok. He’s not going to eat you or kill you, but yes…pretty much about your cat!” Moonlight.

 

After the shopping day, my apartment was full of essentials…life support stuff. Moonlight was…enjoying it, unlike me; I was worried about…guns…bullets. Back in the 19th century, gangs were everywhere including my country; there was news and more news, which was not feeling pleasure or contentment. However, many of Yakuza’s organizations tried to change their way of businesses in order to accommodate with legal systems.

Instead of drugs or weapons, they turned their businesses into clubs, casinos, and many kinds of real estate. However, sometimes they boomed each other because of the real estate problems! Old habit!

 

Arti’s family businesses were casinos, real estates, and clubs. He actually did not need to come to Thailand for the girls, but he came because of his mother. I had learnt later that he helped a young boy named Chicken from getting beat to death. Chicken was a Thai boy with a drunken daddy who loved boxing. Arti gave him a place to stay and sent him to school. Chicken graduated, as an accountant and worked for a bank. I thought, maybe Arti was a kind of… an angel in Halloween disguise…hmmm wasn’t he?

 

Later, Moonlight wanted to transfer herself to one of the universities in the north because they had German and French languages, and Arti paid for everything…like I said…life was getting better and better.

 

 

“Hey, don’t think the payment is going to help you with my cat!! Think again!!” Me.

 

“You know you’re very cautious. It’s ok to be skeptical. And it’s ok to trust. There are people who care how much the world goes dirty.” Arti.

 

“Do you blame me? Moony, I’m gonna move back to the mother’s, I’m too scared being alone with his showing up anytime he wants!” Me.

 

“Hey, he is our friend! …He’s kind of yummy, don’t you think?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Oh…shut uppp…” Me.

 

 

 

I moved back to the mother’s until I was done school, did not what to jump off some building before graduation, and life was so intense already, I did not want to complicate my own self…one step at a time was safe for me…I was mentally deranged and it was not going good with…guns and boom! Moreover, Professor Daddy insisted that it was a good idea taking time to know…Mr. Gun! We were friends except he already claimed…me as his girl to be!

 

“Maybe, I just marry you, and get over with work. Be a wife, have kids, and get fat!” Me.

 

“If you want…my little one! Can you not be fat?” Arti.

 

 

“Hmm…do you know the procedure of pregnancy right? Little human is not a bloody puppy…doll’s head!” Me.

 

“No fat! Had any boys come around when you were a student?” Arti.

 

 

“Not really, they were scared of me! Although once, just before you showed up at my old office…it did not end up…in the way of a satisfying end…and…it was bloody…hmm!” Me.

 

 

 

“What happened? Did he hit you? I’m gonna kill him!!” Arti.

 

 

“Ahmm…more like…opposite! Well, after lunches…and dates at school for a month, he suggested that we should go somewhere…like…his house. I told him I would think about it. Then he wanted to hold my…little arm. I…mmm said no in a way that produced too much noise. Mr. Moody Be Good was about to get out from his motorcycle and heard the ‘No.’ Next thing I knew, my one-month- lunch-date was mixed with…sand and bloody by Mr. Moody be Good’s boxing skill!” Me.

 

“You dated him for a month and never went out with him? (I moved my face for yes.) Why did you date him?” Arti.

 

“Ah…well, he was a popular senior. Chicks screamed when he moved and…free lunches!” Me

 

“Do you know what you did was dangerous? You should not have done it. He’s young and stupid, but it does not mean he deserved to be toying.” Arti.

 

“Sorry, I was…playing, did not think…boys like to jump off buildings too.” Me.

 

 

Arti was always like my…personal corrector? Tried to get me into a good behaviour. He was back and forth between Japan and Thailand every 2 or 3 months and when he was not in Thailand, Chicken was his eyes and ears…about me of course. I was going to make my decision of being a girlfriend or…no, but before I reached my decision my giant cell phone was screaming.

 

“Hey, little one, Chicken will pick you and Moony up…soon.” Arti.

 

 

“We’re not your…whatever. I have shit to do!” Me.

 

 

“Aye, I need you here as soon as possible!” Arti.

 

 

Chicken was driving fast, he did not say anything, but from his expression and the speedy, I knew something definitely went…so wrong…hell! When we arrived at Arti’s breathtaking condominium, which was on the 27th floor. A young lady was sitting in Arti’s living room with an expression of distress. As soon as Arti informed her who we were and… particularly me, (something was totally wrong with my face!) she was gone, to a high blood pressure and an attempt at physical force hmmm…. against floor 27 and the parking spot below! In 30 seconds, my brain stopped working, but my protective instinct was responded to a certain stimulus. The young lady was speeding to Arti’s balcony, which had 2 sets of air-conditioning condensers. My feet were on fire…stalking her! By the time she reached her one foot on an air-conditioning condenser, my two hands were on one of her arms. As she was bigger and taller than me, she was swinging her arm along with my one arm, yanking me up…it was a very high possibility that I could have reached the parking spot in…let’s just say 45 meters in height per 10 floors of building, according to Dr. Sood.

 

S =ut + 0.5t. 2

45 = 0 + 0.5*9.81*t.2

t.2 = 45 (0.5*9.81)

t = 3.02891266408 (without air resistance) 30. (may be with the air)

 

So, 27 floors would be…about 1 minute and 23 second before I hit the ground, or maybe longer, as I was not big, only 42 kilograms and 1.63 meters height. However, before death happened, Arti’s arm was on my waist, I saw Chicken hold the young lady…and we all fell down on the balcony floor. My head kicked something…it hurt. After we all were on our feet, the lady was running off, this time, through the actual door!

 

 

“Are you fucking nuts!!!? You could have fallen down with her!!” Arti with piercing sound and it was no space between my ears and his speaker!

 

“Wow…where did you find her?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Really Moony, do you fucking want to know…now?? And you…you’re a fucking dick-head and asshole! Women are not bloody shoes that you can fucking change anytime you please!” Me.

 

“Hey, I did tell her I’m waiting for you. And I just needed…company that’s all!!!” Arti, still yelling.

 

“Shit, that’s why!! Don’t talk to me with a high speaker! What about your pretty night girls? Can you pick one of those rather than a day work girl who is not familiar with fuck and go? And get off me!” Me.

 

“They are my employees, not bloody sex slaves!” Arti.

 

 

“Hey. Don’t you bloody dare yell at me? Shit-head!” Me.

 

 

“How are you, sweetheart?” Arti.

 

 

“Oh, now, you ask! You know what Chicken! Take me home. I have shit to do. Are you coming Moony??” Me.

 

Next day, there he was, in my office with ridiculous old sunglasses! “What did I say? Something is totally wrong in your skull!” Me.

“Do you like my new pretty face? This is a pretty face and no blood. This is…new me…and no more girls!” Arti.

 

I was thinking love must have something to do with buildings because, at the time, buildings seemed to be a popular place for expressing love…somehow.

 

 

I was curious about how did Arti do with…his work? Therefore, it was a good day to see his night-working girls.

 

“Hey, can we go to see…girls with you tonight? It’s Friday night out!” Me. “You…want to look at the girls? Hmm…are you sure?” Arti.

“Yep!!” Me and Moonlight.

 

“I could use girl’s eyes and girl’s look at girl’s…kind of hot…and touching…hmm!” Arti.

 

“Really, you have to go there now? I’m eating food for goodness sake! Don’t be such a dick!” Me.

 

It was a 3-star hotel, and in the hotel room were a doctor, a nurse, 2 gunmen, Arti’s mammy, and 21 girls. All the girls had numbers on their…boobs…because it was easy to call them. Arti and his mammy were talking in Japanese before she called the girls by their numbers. It was only 11 of them that had been nominated and after that, each girl took their turn, naked. The examinations were…cool, each one stood in front of us, walking around and turning around. When Arti’s mammy had done her…closer look, then the doctor and the nurse did the physical exams and took some bloody for laboratory testing.

 

I did not understand the business, but I did talk to those girls and I had learnt that working in Japan was a very good chance to start a new life. They earned USD $600 per day and the contract was 2 years, after that, they were sent home full of cash if they could resist temptations. When I was in Japan, visiting Arti’s father, I had a chance to talk to some Thai girls, they told me that they liked working there and they dreamt of back home, opening a 7-Eleven or a restaurant or even a bar, driving Mercedes and living happily ever after…so cool.

 

After Arti and I were together, I asked him how he felt about his father’s bedtime businesses, he said,

 

 

“I know it’s not an honourable business but he’s my father and a good father. I do what I have to. I don’t insult or be cruel to the girls and I respect them, as employees. Look at them, they’re happy to work here because they knew it is a chance for them to start a wealthy life. I don’t feel guilty.” Arti.

 

“Maybe, I’m the one who is stupid…oh…boy, working for 2 years then…be a rich bitch! Sounds good to me!” Me.

 

“Hey, no one can touch you. I’ll kill them all. Do you get it?” Arti.

 

That was it, he was a jealous type of person, gun and baseball bat were his favourite toys. The jealousy had gone very far and we were fighting about his OCD crazy feelings of being suspicious of men, young men, young boys…boys, old men, and elderly men!! I also had bodyguards following me when I was in Japan…feeling like a million…oh, and I loved Pachinko (A Japanese’s slot machine)…it was fun.

 

 

 

After about 5 years of our engagement, he ran away to heaven with a bullet hole…men like to run away somewhere, hiding somewhere or run away to heaven! Moonlight was crying more than I did, made me feel guilty about my upsetting, to be precise, I was drunk for most of the year, working or homing, and feeling insecure in great difficulties, but I remembered what Ms. Goody had said, “If you fall down, I know you will find a strength to walk again.”

 

There I was, in Australia and again, love was on my apartment door, Mr.

Ex was an Austrian man who came to Australia for an improvement of his English. He was in an English major at the same school, the same apartment building and the same friends…of mine. I was not interested in him at first because I could not see an alternative. He was German-speaking and had no intention to stay anywhere, but his hometown, while I knew nothing about the German language, however he was very helpful and very polite…seemed to be more…mature than his age. After about 3 weeks of showing up at my work and home,

 

 

“I really like you, but if you don’t like me, I would not bother you anymore.” Mr. Ex.

 

“Oh, giving up so soon? …Joking! Well. How are we going to do the…shit with 8453.363 KM between…you, ocean, mountain, and me?” Me.

 

“If we love each other, we’ll figure everything out!” Mr. Ex.

 

 

But, it did not go to his original statement. Months of knowing him and 7 months of being his girlfriend in Australia, everything seemed to be about right! Before he headed back to Austria, we were engaged and I followed him after I had finished my master’s and sent Moonlight to save the world.

 

When I was in Austria, at the first week, I met his…supposed to be a real- life best friend and the best friend’s large lovely wife (oh, she was a morbidly obese, but pretty). I saw…Mr. Ex and his best friend’s large lovely wife exchanged the act of looking directly to one another, like an animal’s instincts physiologically processed, and the activities of their eyeballs was too sweet for ants to resist. I knew right away…they fucked (I wondered at the time, how could he find or do it…the bedding…she was so…cover up with…never mind!).

 

I told Mr. Ex I needed to think, so I was traveling many places around Europe with my twin-names, Raphael! I had met someone…hard to…describe, it was Fredric or Fairly…remember? He was a tattooist who did not have any tattoos? Fairly liked walking around his house and wearing only his boxers…to cover up? He was…an open person and very…friendly. I had to tell him, “Don’t you bloody dare come close to the bathroom when I have a shower…do you get that?” many times! Well, I don’t have big sexy boobs or ass, nothing to show off! I was so confused about men after I had a…rare perceptible conversation when it came to love, tits, and ass…with him!

 

“Aye, I like to talk to you about us. You do know, right?” Fairly.

 

 

“Oh…ahmm. Us? What am I supposed to know?” Me.

 

 

 

“Well, I want you. I don’t know how things would go. But, I want to fuck you and I like you…and…I like your psychological function.” Fairly.

 

“Hold on, you are joking, right? My psychological function…what are you talking about? Did you take your meds today? I’m still engaged and on thinking!” Me.

 

“Well, he was done with her, otherwise, he would not want to get married. So, if you still love him, then why are you here? You don’t seem to be…sad! Are you still pissed or jealous?” Fairly.

 

“Ok, drama it is! I’m not pissed or jealous, I’m pissed at myself. What did I miss before I’m here? How can I marry someone who betrays his own best friend…and me? And right now, he doesn’t want a breakup. I already drew first blood by being here. I’m hoping, he will dump me when I get back!” Me.

 

“So, would you like to go on a date with me? I warn you, I like to fuck a lot and my dick is huge! I guarantee that you will have the best sex…ever!” Fairly, with confidence!

 

It was very…tempting! As I said, Fairly was a friendly guy and a very open personality, I was kicking myself actually…too chicken to go ahead. My brain was not operating well when it came to dramas! I had to dump my fiancé…right away…as soon as I got into his apartment…no time to lose! But, it did not go to plan and he was complaining about…me and my tears splitting…for a few months. I told him that was the best I could get it out!

 

Many years later, I was building my house, waiting for Moonlight to come home; we met in London before I got back from everywhere. Unfortunately, she did not make it. I was hoping that she would have gone to another side after a year or 2, but Joshy told me that the last diagnosis was worse, Moonlight had pneumonia with bacteria that was rare, and it came from Africa, South Sudan. She was in a hospital for a week and she was feeling better, so she went back to

 

 

work. A few days later a helicopter took her back to the hospital and she was gone to the other side in a day. Last time I talked to her, was a week ago while she was hospitalized, and she promised to come home! Joshy and Mr. Wise were with her until the end. When I got a message from Joshy that night, I thought the bitch and Joshy just wanted to scare me. I did not cry…did not feel like it, when I got a call from Joshy, confirmed that it was not a joke.

 

“Ok, thanks, Joshy. When will you guys take her back here?” Me.

 

 

“Next month is alright…baby? We are re-scheduling our works, I’ll let you know in a couple days.” Joshy.

 

“Ok, no problem, you got my new number. So, we can talk about it later.” Me.

 

 

“Hey, are you alright?…Dr. Wise wants to talk to you.” Joshy.

 

 

“I am ok! And tell Dr. Wise, it’s not a time for chitchat. It’s late here…dude! Joshy, thank you for everything you did for her, I wish, I was there, but she had you and Dr. Wise…I’m glad. Tell Dr. Wise, thank you for me. I have a morning class to teach. I’m going to sleep! I love you Joshy. Good night!” Me.

 

Once upon a time, I had met and talked to Dr. …Mr. Wise on Internet communication, it was a…hmm I was in the middle of dumping someone yes…or no question. Moonlight thought I was better off dumping my ex right there and reading bedtime story with Mr. Wise instead! But, I did not believe in that Internet’s a miracle…shit anymore even though, Moonlight said,

 

“He’s weirdo like…you! And genius, extremely an honourable person, get the fuck out of there and fuck this one! He’s cool. I would!! Do it fast chick’s head!” Moonlight, with a high opinion.

 

I did not think about him because he looks bloody…smart and too…brainy…whoa! Some girls at my office thought he looked scary…so, I did not actually think of him at the time and I was talking to him because I wanted

 

 

to ask about Moonlight and to thank him for taking good care of her! That was 6 years ago before Moonlight’s funeral, and I had never talked to him until…there he was with Joshy beside him, at the arrivals door of Chiang Mai International Airport. They had to claim Moonlight’s ashes because she had been checked for drugs, I was wondering the same thing, maybe she carried some weed for me!

 

“Joshy!!” Me, running to hug him.

 

 

“Hey, oh…how are you baby? I was worried…you know!” Joshy, hugging me.

 

 

“No, no drama remember? I’m cool. Ahmm I miss you so much. How long has it been? 11 years.” Me, squeezed him more with my face buried in his stinky chest.

 

“I miss you too, little one. You know, right?” Joshy.

 

 

“Ahuh, Joshy! You’re stinking! I’m sorry, who are you?” Me, looking at someone…scary.

 

“Don’t you remember him, baby? It’s Dr. Wise I told you about. Hey baby, play nicely…he is also my pain-in-my-ass…boss!” Joshy.

 

“Sure! How do you do sir? Welcome to Thailand Mr. …Doctor Wise. Do I title you correctly…sir?” Me with Joshy’s laughter!

 

He did not answer me, very rudely…bad doctor, I did not care at the moment but,

 

“Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Wow, that is your best…shot? I don’t know you and I don’t hug anyone I don’t know! However, thank you so much for everything you did for my Moony. I’m grateful. She very worshiped you…you know! By the way, your luck is run off since I stand here…just so you know! And, forgive my bitchy, hope the deadhead had warned you…already!” Me.

 

 

 

“She had! And you can call me Wise. Shall we go?” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Right away…sir! Come on Joshy, move quickly before you get fired…you know!” Me.

 

I took them to their hotel because my house had not finished yet and I was living in a condominium…with one bedroom. Three days later Mr. Moody Be Good came and all of us went to the mountain where we dumped Moonlight’s ashes. On the way back…down, we stopped at a restaurant, which was still on the path of the mountain…for lunch. After we finished lunch, I told the docs to walk around because there were valley and gardens. Mr. Moody Be Good always smoked weed, so every time I wanted to go for happiness, I just had to be with him. I was standing with Mr. Moody Be Good, smoking weed, and enjoying the moment with my leftover best friend,

 

“What the hell do you think, you’re doing?” Mr. Wise, pulling my poor arm.

 

 

“Oh, ahmm…smoking weed! Want some?” Me.

 

 

“Stop it.” Mr. Wise, pulling me away!

 

 

“Hey bossy, you know what genius head. You’re not going to boss me…ok? My fucking everything to me just becomes ashes…under her bloody tree. So, forgive me if I don’t actually give a fuck!” Me.

 

“Give me your car key. Now!” Mr. Wise, with angry…face?

 

 

Key it was, no problem dude! That day, after I sent the two docs back to their hotel, I was at Mr. Moody Be Good’s second home, which is far away from Chiang Mai’s city. We were pretty much drunk ourselves to death and I still did not cry, more laughing, talking about the 3 of us at old times. Next day, I went to be a taxi for the docs. I was not sure what was happening, but the docs were with me 24/7…mann! Made me feel so…healthy! And when I said 24/7, it means 24/7

 

 

because they were in my condo, eating my snacks, using my bathroom, and sleeping on my one queen size bed…with me…in it! Some other time, I was at their hotel deluxe-room, did the same thing…we talked about major opinions such as religion or people in general, however somehow…someway Mr. Wise turned to my bad behaviour…with speeches…I was feeling like…having a daddy!

 

“You do know what is right or wrong. You did it because this is your way of expressional pain. Why are you hurting yourself for something that isn’t your doing?” Mr. Wise. (Weed’s problem!)

 

“I told you before, don’t psychoanalyze me! This is me. Did I warn you? I’m the dark side of the Moony! If I were you, I would have run to another side of this world where…I can’t find you…Da!” Me.

 

He did exactly what I suggested, still 24/7 and…I had learnt that he was having a similar childhood as Moonlight and I except no bottles landed on his head or dick-head at a living room. His mother was a drug addiction…that was why he hated weed! He had been put to an orphan home until he got a scholarship to one of the top universities, graduated as a surgeon …wow that was pretty much…over and overwhelming…whooo sounds scary! He was also…let’s just say…dick and dick sometimes, such as dumped my fish-balls into a garbage can in front of the person who cooked it! Or, ignored everyone around us when we were at restaurants or coffee shops…like this world was only us…a kind of an egotistic super smart dude!

 

The night before the docs flew home, I was with them at the deluxe room, helping Joshy keep his shit,

 

“Aye, can we talk?” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Ahuh, aren’t you just moving your mouth?” Me.

 

 

“Stop playing word games for a moment. Please.” Mr. Wise.

 

 

 

“Oh, nooo. Are you gonna give me another speech?” Me, Joshy was laughing!

 

 

“I said please. And please means, stops fucking around and listen ok?” Mr. Wise.

 

“Oh! …Ok…sir?” Me.

 

 

“This isn’t a good sign for someone who just lost someone she loves the most. You don’t talk about her. Your actions are out like it doesn’t matter to you. Please, talk to me. I know we just met. But please, understand that I’m here for you. She is gone and nothing I can possibly do for her, but you are alive and that matters.” Mr. Wise, with a very… demanding careful consideration!

 

“O…k! What did she say before…poo…f.” Me.

 

 

“Hmm…she said ‘Don’t you dare, be too sad, and don’t be an idiot. See you on another side.’” Mr. Wise.

 

“How the fuck am I going to do all that by myself?” Me, whispering.

 

 

He pulled me into his hard chest…ouch; I felt an unexpected safety…maybe because he was a doctor! I had never cried so much…so long before…was not actually my thing, but he made me cry! …It was just a moment of a deep sorrow. That was what I told myself…

 

After he went back home, he was checking on me daily, however I did not expect to see him again…and so soon. He was in my just finished home because my bone marrow was on strike. He also refused to use my guest-room and slept on my bed…with me in it…for 2 weeks’ stay! Then it came to the third time of his popping up at my house, and stayed for a whole bloody month (are they supposed to be busy?? The docs!)…which was absolutely no…intimate, consummate, or intercourse some…bedtime story, I was thinking, “Shit! Maybe, I’m pretty much an unattractive, arousing sexual…sense…scent, never mind!

 

 

However, after the second week of my medical treatments, myself was back to…usually crazy.

 

“Ahem! Are you cutting meat or doing an operation?” Me.

 

 

“Shut up, would you? Here, drink!” Mr. Wise, cooking dinner!

 

 

“Ahh, am I going to be ok with your food?” Me.

 

 

“How are you feeling sweetheart? You didn’t sleep long this afternoon.” Mr. Wise.

 

“I’m fine. Not sure about sweetheart though. See, I’m opposite to…the sweet!” Me.

 

And that was…fine until after dinner, I was playing…with my piano, enjoying a moment before I was lifted off from my piano chair into his lap. Oh…

 

“Hmm, did I play that bad? Hmm…this is too…short distance between genders, don’t you think?” Me.

 

“You need to eat more, you feel like a pillow.” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Really. Eating? Pillow? In this moment?” Me.

 

 

“Ha ha, and you have a nice skin.” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Aha, is that your best? ‘You have a nice skin!’ Ok, we need to talk and everyone knows what it means when a woman said, ‘We need to talk!’ I need to get off your…ok. I don’t want you to run away when you find out how crazy I am. And…I’m just a fucked up woman; I cannot see, I have that superpower of a combination of beauty, pretty…whatever. Moreover, I’m just a chick’s head…ask everyone. Why the hell do you want to be with me? Did you take the wrong medication today?” Me.

 

 

 

“I know what I’m doing. And you should have seen yourself better. You are a pleasing and appealing woman.” Mr. Wise.

 

“Hmm, are you trying to get to my…! Can I ask some personal and some inflammatory questions?” Me.

 

“Sure.” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Joshy said you have never had a girlfriend. How come? I’m unhesitatingly believed that chicks will die for you!” Me.

 

“I was once engaged. It didn’t feel right for me, so I left. I’m always busy with work, therefore, girls dumped me after about…couple of months. What else would you like to know?” Mr. Wise, impatient.

 

“Ah, you don’t like questions huh. But you like questioning. This is not fair…bossy! If I were you, I just…get a hooker then…to busy!” Me.

 

“Sweetheart, don’t call them hookers. They deserve respect.” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Hey, I know…the word hooker is not a substandard scornful abuse!! The word ‘Hooker’ was unknown definition. However, some language study believes that it was an original from ‘Hook’ and later ‘Hook Up’ and ‘Hooker.’ Used for an attractive female companion, on the other means, affectionate or lover!” Me.

 

“Uh, I see. Sorry, I misunderstood you.” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Did you love your ex? What happened?” Me.

 

 

“I’m not a social being and I could not be, as she wanted. And yes, I loved her.” Mr. Wise.

 

“Sometimes I wonder, where the love goes!” Me.

 

 

 

“There was no point, go through something you know it wasn’t you.” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“So, you walked out…?” Me.

 

 

“It’s late now, and you should be sleeping soon.” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“Oh, really? Damn! Alright then…sleeping it is. By the way, promise me if we aren’t together, as lovers in the future. You won’t dump me, as a friend. I’ve never been dumped before and I don’t really want to know how does it feel, so…please don’t disappear because I love you as a friend and…a man?” Me.

 

“I know sweetheart. I don’t want you to worry. I’m more worried that you might dump me.” Mr. Wise.

 

The day he flew home, I was driving and thinking, sending him to the airport, “Maybe, when he takes his meds, he might realize what he did…and he would go…poof!”

 

“I’m gonna kick you out at the departure door when we arrive at the airport…ok? Parking is always full!” Me.

 

“Heyy, it’s ok to feel sad, but I don’t want you to sit around thinking or worrying…alright?” Mr. Wise.

 

“Ha, oh no…me? I don’t need to sit in order to think…of you. I can think of you and do something else. Don’t worry boss, I’m not that sweet, trust me!” Me.

 

He called 2 or 3 time a day, asking the same questions, it must have had something to do with the OCD problem! He linked my phone… hmm like… “Find my I-bitch” so he could…check where I was…anytime! And when he had to work through the nights, he was watching me…sleeping via the Internet’s communication…that was creepy! It had become my new cycle of…he’s back!

 

 

One night of an abnormal… hmm proposal?

 

 

“I talked to a priest at the church we went to today. He could marry us tomorrow if you want.” Mr. Wise, with a ring!

 

“Ahm…really I thought you are non-believer and, now? No engagement and no knees down? Do you know, you’re still on top of me? Hmm…maybe, skip the knees down, it’s too scary to imagine.” Me.

 

“So? Do you want to marry me, little one?” Mr. Wise.

 

 

“This is not a fair situation, considering where you are and where I am. Don’t you think? O…k, tell me one thing, why the hell do you want to marry me?” Me.

 

“Because we understand each other. I’m not perfect and you see that. And you…are far from perfect! Because we see the world at the same angle. And more importantly, we know how to love a person.” Mr. Wise.

 

“Oh…thanks! That is very reassuring…boss!” Me.

 

 

There I was, on my way to the place…that I miss when I have to be away…Mr. Ok was right,

 

“Remember Aye, home is not a large house or a small house, but a place where is love and when you have to be away, you will always miss it. “

 

Memorial of My Friends and My Loved Ones.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Publication Knowledge

 

Encyclopedia

Social Studies. Wikipedia

Psychology an Introduction. Charles G. Morris

The History of Art. A. N. Hodge

 

Thank you to all my advisors and everyone who had been supporting me with this book.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.11.2020

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