I've just found myself an extremely captive audience to the semi-drunken ramblings of the local shopkeeper.
I've been acquainted with this purveyor of all things rotten and alcoholic for some 5 lao khao doused years now but this is the first occasion he has regaled anything worth listening to. In fact our are conversations are usually limited to me asking for a massive bag of ale and asking how much it is. Although he does often make queries into the availability of Swedish pornography whenever I journey to the shop with my computer.
I'm quite sure I caught him having a wank once in his little cubbyhole out the back but I can't be certain. What I am certain of is that if I abide to his wishes and download and burn him a copy of Swedish Lesbians in Fisting Frenzy Part 5, that half of his displayed merchandise would be showered in semen before you could say Abba. So I won't be doing that. I like the local shop. It's nice and fucking local.
For one reason or another our conversation turned to the pros and cons of a Yabba addiction.
His pro being that a single pill gives one the staying power to pound the local prostitute all night long, whilst his con was the high cost of the drug.
I wouldn't get into cocaine then, Shopkeeper.
He then went onto tell me that some 10 years ago he'd been locked-up after having been arrested by the local constabulary for being in possession of over 100 Yabba pills; but the shopkeeper is old school and still refers to it as Yamma (horse tranquilizing drugs).
He'd been stopped by the cops in Muak Lek and searched. The police had been tipped off by one of his narcotic dispensing adversaries and he was sent straight to a prison in Saraburi.
There he spent his first week as a new inmate battling for floor space with room only to lay on his side. Having to stare at the outline of his neighbour's bony buttocks whilst inhaling the dank, torrid flatulence which occupied the room, he was positively kicking himself with regret.
Since he was void of any currency his meals were served with a healthy helping of mucus which the prison guards would add to the repast in full view of the convicts. Snot was summonsed from bronchial lungs and spat into the food.
This wasn't part of the plan.
However, after a month or so of being subjected to the life of a stray hound, the shopkeeper had managed to correspond with his dear ol' mum who came to the prison immediately.
She parted with the princely sum of 250,000 baht and he walked away free that very day.
Seems quite reasonable deal to me.