Narrator: Today is Por's payday. He puts on his best pair of freshly creased slacks, pulls a stylish polo shirt over his head and sets off to work.
Por: Yay! It's Payday!
Narrator: Por arrives at his workplace - Slap's garden, and reaches for his trusty broom. Immediately he begins scratching at the ground with a notable spring in his stride. Por loves sweeping.
Slap: Will you please keep the noise down out there! It's 5.30 in the fucking morning!
Narrator: Oops! Por has woken Slap up with his unnecessarily loud brushing technique. Poor Slap. Will he ever get a moments peace and quiet? The odds really aren't looking too favourable.
Por: What's the matter Slap? I'm just doing my usual early morning sweep. You should know that. I do it everyday.
Slap: Perhaps that's why I'm so utterly sick and fucking tired of it then.
Narrator: Mair arrives in Slap's garden to see what all the fuss is about.
Mair: What's going on here then?
Slap: Oh fuck off back to your cauldron, you nosy bitch.
Narrator: The day continues and Por becomes increasingly excited about his pending paycheck.
Por: Come on! Where are you, you bastard? I need a fucking drink!
Narrator: Por locates Slap and inquires into the whereabouts of his forthcoming finances. Por's excitement has evidently been replaced with concern.
Slap: It'll be here, Por. Please be patient. And while you're at it I'd like you to run a fine tooth comb over the 'snake zone' - I'm sure there's a fucking anaconda lurking in there somewhere.
Narrator: Por's journey towards Zone X is interrupted by a ceremonial chorus of beeps and toots. His paycheck has finally arrived!
Por: Fok me! The bastard's only gone and turned up after all!
Narrator: With this, Por sprints to the assistance of Bernard the Binman and rushes an assortment of recyclable refuse onto his truck.
Por: Come on you fucker, we can work faster than this!
Narrator: With 200 baht now safely ensconced in Por's pocket he marches with purpose towards the local shop - and hasn't been seen since.