During my first trip to ‘The Land of Smiles’; yes, the people do smile, yes, it is indeed ‘land’ and if you cunningly rearrange these two unremarkable nouns into some sort of order with the use of a preposition and a definite article then you are in fact greeted with a catchy slogan, but should you replace the aforementioned nouns with a pair which are perhaps a smidgen closer to home, say ‘filth’ and ‘pit’, you would be less likely to get a thorough bollocking for callous libelous.
So during my first trip to The Pit of Filth way back when in 1999, which although was only 12 years ago feels like 12 billion, another life time even, a time before the subtle capacities of lao khao had further addled my already ganja baked brain, I did as every other unscrupulous back packer with a bit of spare changed in his pocket would do – purchased a lady for the purposes of a night of wild, multiple orgasmic fornication, either that or a three minute drunken fumble in the dark for two thousand fucking baht – thieving tart should’ve been prosecuted for being a bastard.
After the night of passion, Titwank ( I believe her name was such) had awoken early, obviously feeling thoroughly refreshed and clear headed after the sexual encounter and took it upon herself to do a little spring cleaning. The way she swept the floor was almost poetic. The ceramic tiles were brushed with awe inciting efficiency. With half an eye cocked through the onset of a thunderous hangover, I couldn’t help but admire her.
‘This lady’, I mused ‘belongs in slavery.’
It was only whilst I was showering the thick residue of surplus alcohol from my pores that I realized the true evil that lurked beneath her seemingly agreeable facade.
Through the thin shower curtain I saw her approach the lavatory. ‘Splendid’ I thought ‘the bog is well overdue a Mr. Muscle dousing.’
But to my shock, horror and sheer disbelief, a most unprecedented series of events began to unfurl, and the bog brush was definitely not an integral part of the script.
The shadow which had now eerily started to resemble a homicidal goblin was actually beginning to mount the toilet! Not as you or I would, but actually climb onto the seat, and yes, stand on it!
“Err, Cupcake, anything I can help you with?’ I nervously queried from behind the shower screen.
“fgtetd!” She responded, with a harsh rasp.
‘Fuck me! She’s a fucking toilet monster! HELP HELP HELP HELP – I’m about to be attacked by a fucking lavatory goblin!’
I managed to regain composure as the wave of horror which had swept over me subsided a fraction, giving me an opportunity to collect my thoughts.
Eventually curiosity allowed me to summon the courage to peer round the curtain. What greeted me will stay with me forever. It would be the focal point of many a sleepless night, of countless nightmares, of blood curdling screams into the mass void of insanity.
The girl/thing/fucking goblin was standing on the toilet seat taking a HUGE dump. It actually looked like she had grown a massive black knob from the angle of my bewildered stare.
“Be gone with you, PEASANT!” I screamed with a mixture of fear and anger.
“I DEMAND you leave my presence!”
That was my first encounter with any such primal behavior and I obviously wasn’t impressed.
Surely, SURELY to get the most from your lavatory experience a sitting position would be more fitting.
I can’t think of a more uncomfortable or vulnerable way of taking a dump, not to mention being visually unattrative.
Tsssch. Some people!