No sooner had I parked my ample buttocks on the stoic seating arrangement clustered at the shop's facade, than a little lady of epically ancient proportions seemed to scuttle from nowhere in the direction of my face. She then brandished an unopened bottle of beer Chang from behind her back and yelled: Drink it! You must drink this fucking bottle of ale and you must do it now and you must do it quickly.
Well, who was I to turn down such an animated offer.
Wench, I accept! I replied before drinking that bottle of ale and doing it then and doing it quickly and parting with an appreciative belch which rattled the rafters of the venue.
And that was the end of that little discussion.
Feeling a warmth which inexplicably wasn't related to the oppressive blanket of humidity that has recently been cast over Thailand's northeast, I reached for my book, ordered another bottle of beer and settled in for an hour so of quality reading. Grisham, unlike King, doesn't beat around the bush. He gives you a solid pat on the back on the way in, soundly buggers you throughout, and leaves you feeling like you've been assaulted with a fucking gavel come the conclusion.
But alas, it wasn't to be. The turn of events which subsequently transpired, deemed me unable to focus on the pages which lay in my path.
A brace of the Cambodian contingent, who are relatively new to the area and are apparently compensated with a higher salary than the locals, flounced into the shop and began to lurk.
"Fuck off and lurk somewhere else" I said to my book.
One of them asked me for a cigarette. I responded by wordlessly fishing one from my pocket and handing it to him.
He then ventured deeper inside the shop and, right in front of my very eyes, bought a fresh packet of Wonder reds. The FUCKING CHEEK!
Right, best nip this in the bud before I have to lop the fucker down with an axe.
I asked him for a cigarette.
He gave me one.
'Unusual little fucker aren't you' I concluded the tete a tete before slagging Cambodians off to anyone that would listen for the rest of the evening.
Slap - possibly more accepted in the village than his Khmen counterparts.