After just three glasses, I’m already chummy with the Frenchman. It feels like we’ve known each other forever. Vive la France! The French are good guys. The best! The cream of Europe.
With this occasion, our tongues loosen, and I quickly find out why Jean-Louis is upset with women. It’s clear: his girlfriend dumped him this morning.
“Unconscious woman!” I exclaim. “You don’t dump a pilot. You just can’t do that. Unless you’re, in your words, Jean-Louis, a whore.”
“Dammed!” Jean-Louis grumbles.
“A dime a dozen woman,” I confirm with a hiccup.
“You’re not leaving me, you whore! I’m leaving you! You don’t deserve me! Actually, that’s how it was. If I remember correctly, I was the one who left her. But I was generous and let her believe it was the other way around.”
“If you were generous, it means you loved her.”
“Ah, I loved her like crazy,” he confesses. “That’s why I let her go.”
“That’s right!”
“If you truly love a woman,” the Frenchman explains to me, “you fuck her quickly and then run as fast as your legs can carry you.”
I look at him amazed.
“Really?”
“Parole d’honneur!”
“I didn’t know about that rule. And why, pray tell? Why run?”
“How old are you, mon ami?”
“I’m young. I’m forty-four.”
“I’m thirty-two, but much more experienced. Let me teach you… hic… how things work with women.”
“Yes, indeed! Teach me!”
My pilot starts to show off. Now he’s a big expert in women.
“First of all,” he says, raising a finger, “you should never keep a woman a prisoner in a relationship. If you’re a true gentleman, you fuck her, pull up your pants, and leave without looking back.”
“That sounds kind of absurd. Explain it to me. Why like that?”
“Well, to… set them free. No one can be happy if they’re someone’s slave. Love in chains? Bullshit! That’s not possible!”
“Yeah, that’s about right,” I acknowledge. “When you’re right, you’re right!”
We sit and listen to the sea. Jean-Louis suddenly loses interest in talking. I feel the lounger gently swaying under me. I close my eyes. I’m about to fall asleep.
The waves flow one after another. Each silently chews on its own problems. I don’t know what time it is, but who cares? Even the wind has stopped. You only hear the clinking of glasses now and then. I feel drowsy, but Jean-Louis seems to wake up with every drink.
“I loved that bitch so much!” he bursts into tears, shaking his shoulders, and the glass trembles in his hand. It’s not a pretty sight.
I lose sleep. Again.
“Jean-Louis, stop crying!” I encourage him. “Forget it. Can’t you see you’re spilling your drink on the sand? It’s a shame.”
“Damn it! Je m’en fou! Look, I’m not crying anymore, but I’m pissed off! You invest everything you have… you put your heart… and everything goes to hell because she wants it that way. Shit! But who is she to tell me it’s over?”
“Exactly! Who is she?“
“She’s a… nobody! A cow! A dime-a-dozen woman with a wider pussy than the Andamar Sea. A stupid cow. Imagine what I could have loved! But what didn’t I give her? Why wasn’t she satisfied? A damned spoiled brat! And she was wider than a bucket, damn it! When I was in her, it was like… fucking a bag.”
“That’s not really that important. I mean… if you love a woman.”
“But it was damn important to me!” he shouts. “And I’m not a guy with a small dick. Want to see for yourself?”
“No, thanks.”
“Look here!”
“Keep it in your pants, please. Enough with this nonsense, man! What’s Anurat going to think?”
“It’s not small, is it?”
It annoys me to see what he’s showing me. I start yelling at him:
“Put it back immediately, you perverted Frenchman! I don’t want anyone to see us and draw the wrong conclusion. Hmm, you’re right, it’s definitely not small.”
If there’s anything that can annoy me more in this world, it’s seeing a man with a longer penis than mine. I snort like a bull that’s seen the red rag. This Frenchman has really crossed the line by nonchalantly displaying his baseball bat. It’s an insult!
What an idiot!
Where did I throw that empty bottle? Where is it? I’ll smack that cursed Frenchman in the head with it. I swear! At the first opportunity when he looks the other way, I’ll take him down.
“You’re turning green with envy,” he chuckles.
“No way!” I growl.
Lord, why do such hammers exist in this world? What’s their use? What does this lunatic with the… Woman Killer do? Turn them upside down?
If I were a chick, I’d run away from here screaming with my hands raised. But I’m not, so I’ll change the subject.
“Where are we taking off tomorrow?” I ask to stop thinking about how much I want to beat up the Frenchman.
“Do you happen to know Phuket Island?”
“Not at all.”
“Then what’s the point of explaining it to you? Leave it to me. You’re in good hands with me.”
“Still, where does your plane take off from? I haven’t heard of any airports nearby.”
“We’re not flying; we’re taking off by seaplane.”
“Ah, your toy takes off from the water. That means it’s small.”
“As small as it is, it can easily carry thirty people.”
“Ah…”
“What’s ‘Ah’?”
“Nothing,” I stammer. “Nothing at all. I just thought it was a larger plane.”
Jean-Louis looks at me from under his eyebrows with a whisky-fueled gaze, then suddenly starts laughing.
“You’re such an idiot! Ha, ha! You thought you were piloting a commercial flight with 500 passengers? Ha, ha!”
“No. I swear I didn’t think that. Not at all!”
I drink with envy the remnants from my glass. The bottle has been empty for a while. That damned Anurat wiped it clean. Useless slave!
It’s probably already 3 in the morning. Okay. I’m done with sleep. I wasted ten dollars on those sleeping pills, and Jean-Louis keeps laughing like an idiot, driving me crazy.
“Come on, stop it already!” I shout, extremely irritated. “What’s so funny? Stop it!”
“I can’t!” he giggles with tears in his eyes. “Just the idea of seeing you at the controls of a plane with 500 passengers makes me burst out laughing.”
“Oh, go to hell! What’s the difference between 20 and 500? Haven’t you heard that size doesn’t matter?”
“Yeah, yeah… watch it! That’s the motto of guys with small dicks.”
I feel my blood boiling.
“Get lost!” I yell. “Get out of here, you damn bastard!”
“Ha, ha! Are you feeling offended? Hi, hi, hi! So you really have a tiny cock!”
“I’m serious, cut it out or I’ll punch you!”
I clench my fists and give him a stern look. Jean-Louis stops laughing and begins to stare at me much like the way my schoolmates used to when they wanted to bully me.
“I am Jean-Louis!” he says, his chin aggressively raised. “Got it, you idiot with an ant-sized dick? No one tells me when to leave, when to laugh, and when not to laugh. You, white European cheeseheads, come to our Phuket and act all tough, but you’re just pygmies in front of Jean-Louis!” he rages. “You all come to Asia with your airs of masters, your microscopic manhood, and your bloated wallets, thinking you’re the kings of the lot, but you’re just a bunch of losers!”
“Easy there, pal. I’m doing just fine with my wallet and my… you-know-what.”
“Prove it,” he sneers, with a mocking look, “and if it’s longer than mine, I’ll get on all fours and suck you off right here, right now!”
I flinch and look at him with pity. What a jerk. I start to laugh.
“I knew it,” I say, chuckling. “What’s born of a cat eats mice. I just knew it.”
“What did you know, you worm?” he yells.
“That all Frenchmen are cocksucking faggots!”
“Did you just call me a faggot?” the jerk asks, quickly jumping off his sunbed.
“I called you a faggot!” I say, in a drunken tone. “And so what if I did? Why are you staring at me like a bull? I’m not afraid of you! Look, I’ll do it again: Faggot! French cocksucker!”
“You’re dead!” the jerk decides with a chilling calmness and gives me a blurry glare. “Let’s see in the end who’s sucking dick. We’ll see right now! Get up, you piece of shit! Get up, worm! You’re going to feel Jean-Louis’ fist on your head!”
“Oh, damn it!” I stutter. “It’s a free… co… country! I’ll get up from here when I feel like it.”
I don’t know how, but the alcohol fumes dissipate suddenly and my vision clears. I feel like I’ve screwed up big time. I look up at the Frenchman.
No, things aren’t looking too good.
In fact, I’m trying to get up right now, but my legs won’t help and that’s it. Damn sleeping pills! I’m paralyzed! There’s no difference between me and a stranded jellyfish on the beach.
I can already see the headlines for tomorrow’s newspapers:
“Horrible accident!
A tourist was found dead on Liberty Beach.
The tourist had his spine broken in three places and his head crushed.
The police claim that the unfortunate was drunk and stumbled.
Case closed.”
I’m young. I don’t want to die.
I’ll try to negotiate:
“Come on, Jean-Louis, buddy, let’s forget about it. It was a joke. The French are decent people. Look, I officially declare that the French are a decent folk. Okay? Is it fine? Come on, man, I was just kidding! Don’t you have a sense of humor?
The brute of a Frenchman looks at me with bloodshot eyes, filled with whisky. He’s too drunk and enraged to hear anything more.
I see him lift his chaise longue like a feather and smash it to pieces between his large fists, then he brandishes a sharp object in his hand and announces simply:
“Prepare your ass! I’m gonna shove this thing… somewhere!”
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