Admiration hour was over.

We paid up and said we might catch her in town tonight at Hooters.

‘Are you sure boys,’ she said in a demure voice.

We both wiped the drool off our faces. Though we weren’t sure, we thanked her and hobbled out of there, counting our loses.

‘There’ll be more loses if I have anything to do with it tonight.’

It was a date and we wouldn’t miss it for anything. She was cheeky and knew how to wind up two degenerates.

‘Now now, what’s the hurry,’ she said, giving us both a hug.

I’m not going to go into the folds of firm flesh rubbing against me.

‘And you shouldn’t, that’s not considered full body contact unless fluids are exchanged.’

Thanks Javin, and lets definitely have dinner tonight.

Bernhard was all ga ga.

I wanted to check out a nearby fishing village. I had heard it was the drop off point for smuggling people out of the country and terrorists into Bali.

‘Don’t ask too many questions,’ said Javin, ‘or I’ll never get my wicked ways with you both.’

Hell, we might even hire a boat and do a tour of Bali’s coastline. Anything was possible.

‘Only if we get away from her,’ said Bernie, ‘we can’t think straight around her.’

The fish was fried to perfection and the rice was seasoned with garlic.

‘She can cook too,’ I said.

It wasn’t her cooking expertise that attracted our attention.

‘She carried herself like goddess,’ I said and that she could have been the mythological Goddess of the Eastern Sea.

We chewed on that thought for a while.

‘This place?’ asked Bernhard.

There was a jetty and a fleet of fishing boats, some small; other’s large as a fishing trawler for long distance fishing in international waters.

‘Yep, I’d say it’s the place, by the looks of those Afghanistan refugees hanging around at the warung there.’

Here was the plan. Let’s sit down and order a coffee and pretend we aren’t here and listen in on the conversation.

The captain was talking to the group of ten, who were taking up two tables.

They were speaking English.

‘Ten grand, each person,’ said the Captain. ‘We’ll have you on Christmas Island the next day.’

‘We want better deal,’ said the leader, a swarthy looking Afghan.

‘Want you want and what you get are two different things.’

This upset the Afghan, who pulled out a knife.

‘No one speaks like that to me, I’m the fucking Taliban.’

‘And you are a fucking illegal, who raped and pillaged your home country and then escaped not due to persecution but because you wanted a better life and to spread your kind of jihad in Western countries.’

Jihad Afghan smiled, revealing gold teeth.  He knew he couldn’t argue against his truth.

‘Pay now, up front, for fuck off.’

Cash was handed over.

I could hear the other Afghans speaking.

‘Once we arrive, the Australian government pays us fifty bucks a day.’

His mate responded, ‘they can keep me there as long as they like.’

A third spoke up. ‘And we fooled the United Nations, had our I.D’s forged and soon we’ll be in Australia where we can fuck their white women folk and convert them to Islam.’

The captain was listening in and not impressed.

One of the Afghans was carrying a little carry bag which seemed to have something of value in it.

‘And I want it,’ said the captain, who snatched it off him. Chief Taliban tried to intervene but one of the Indonesian ship hands pulled out a large knife.

‘Well well well, what do we have here,’ smiled the captain and pulled out two bullions of gold.

‘You can’t have it,’ said the owner of the bag.

‘And that’s what you say; consider this a down payment that I won’t make you all walk the plank once we reach deep water.’

This was just fascinating. Right before our eyes.

Once the deal was done, the captain joined us at our table and said he was Beni’s brother.

‘Call me Abdul,’ he said. ‘I’m a moderate Muslim and there’s nothing worse than having these extreme vile poor excuses for Muslims come to our country and ruin our reputation. I’m sure I’ll find a few more gold bullions before we set sail.’

I like him very much.

‘And I like you,’ said the Captain, ‘Beni told me that you might be visiting. That’s why I just pretended you weren’t here. It’s important that you tell the West that not all Indonesians are murderous Muslim swines.’

We certainly would, if given half the chance.

Now wasn’t Christmas Island closed?

‘I was waiting for that question,’ said the Captain. ‘They don’t know it is. They don’t know that immigration officers are on their way now. And nor do they know that I share their ill gotten gains with them.’

‘So they are on the next plane to Kabul?’ asked Bernhard.

‘Unfortunately, yes,’ said  the Captain, ‘it would be much easier to make them disappear, but it would not please Allah.’

He was a righteous Muslim and we thanked him for the inside scoop.

‘Don’t forget to tell the world that not all Muslims are head-hunters.’

Certainly will.

‘And what about any terrorists wanting a lift over to Bali?’

The captain smiled, showing a set of stained teeth.

‘Well dropping them in the ocean with cement boots is about all they deserve,’ he said, ‘now you better get going, I’m sure Beni would love to catch up with you.’

I wanted to know how many terrorists had he put to their quick demise.

‘You haven’t heard of any Bali bombings lately, have you?’ he asked, ‘We’ve killed more Malaysian wannabe terrorists than you would ever believe.’

We left it that.

‘Can’t give away all our secrets, can I? said  Abdul who slapped us on the back and wished  us a safe journey back  into town.




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