It’s always when I’m minding my own business over a cigarette and a drink at an Alpha Mart, that things start to get really strange.

They were looking at me. Three workers. They were installing something at the mini-mart, those popular places you sit outside to enjoy the cheap beverages bought inside.

I think they were tradies.

One thing let to another.

The Baron wanted to show me his world. His name really was Baron.

He pulled out his phone and took a snap of me. Then he showed me a video of him and his  two other sidekicks dancing at a karaoke joint.

She had the biggest hooters, he said. I had no reason to doubt the veracity of it.

Then he called up his karaoke girl, who he said only cost 300 000, or about thirty bucks Oz. The price seemed right, and they even had shag rooms.

I had just seen the dentist and one hole in my mouth was inflamed.

I was just happy watching the hot chicks come and go. And so were rapacious tradies. We really did have something in common.

I grabbed Baron’s number. He called me back later and put his hot dream girl on the phone. Apparently, he had shown her the snapshot of me. She wasn’t admiring the lard either, it had to be ‘bule’ dollars. Didn’t all westerners have lots of it?

She was waiting for me. She didn’t care if I had a mild tingling ache in my tooth. She was going to numb it with big tits and lots of Bintang beer.

This was one night that eluded me.

There was always tomorrow, of course.


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