The Caging
The Caging
Chapter 1
In The Business
We called Howie, Howie The Pox, because he spends more money on doctors and penicillan than he does on the whores and bars that infect him. If he’d stop descibing the sexual sewer in his underwear every time he contaminates his cock, we would’ve been kinder and named him Mattress Back Howie, or Bareback Howie, or Howie The Little Fat Fucking Steam Engine. But he won’t keep his unhealthy discharges to himself,so, fuck him, he’s Howie“The Pox”
Sunday. 11am. Jesters Cafe
My business partner is already sitting down and half way through his daily English breakfast when I get there, rivulets of sweat tracing the wheezing fat bastard’s jaw-line before falling off his chin onto the table. In Howie’s defence, Phnom Penh is fucking hot sometimes.
“Saw your ex missus last night.” he says, eyes fixed on his food.
I drag out a chair and sit. “Which one?”
“One that bought The Juice Box.” Howie looks up searching for a waitress and waves one over.“She looks good.”
I’m not interested in talking about my fucking ex. I order two beers from the approaching pair of tits and avoid the topic.
“When we on for?”
“One o’clock. Gonna be alright , Tony. Got the bloke at the airport tucked away just in time. And our fella at the hospital says he can strip twenty grand worth of meds every few months, no problem. Just the two kids drivin’ the shit into Thailand to worry about really”
No, me and Howie The Pox won’t be invited to your kids school to give a fuckin’ careers talk.
Howie stands up and I’m not sure if the stain on his pants is sweat and breakfast, or the blooming signs of another bout of the clap. If the latter, I’m sure I’ll fucking hear all about it.
Sunday 5pm
It only took a couple of hours to split the load kindly donated by the international community into our lorry. The time mostly taken up with identifying everything that had been ordered, like morphine and oxycontin, you know, junkie shit. Two lads are now on their way to the border with our buyer waiting for delivery on the other side. Fact is, half of everything we do like this gets caught, stolen or simply disappears into thin air. It’s part of “The Business” and we expect it to happen. Don’t like it when it does happen, but there it is.
I’m on the balcony of a pub overlooking the river drinking whiskey, it’s my favorite thing to do at this time of the day and has been for twenty years. Yeah, there’s now fuckin’ hipsters to join the hippies, backpackers, smack heads, meth heads and the world’s other pieces of shit strolling below. But that same sun sinks over that same river and the fuckin’ mad house that is Phnom Penh dances along limbering up for the night ahead. A night I'm very much part of.
But you gotta be careful, mind, because Phnom Penh can change a man. Can change the way he thinks, can change the way he acts. Can change the way he sees himself, and how the world sees him. And if blokes like me don’t stay on their game, we’re off down that fuckin’ slippery slope that ends in a whole lot of pain and puss in this place.
Sunday 11pm The Juice Box
Chanthavy owns The Juice Box, but I fuckin’ paid for it. That’s just the way it is. You can’t run around fuckin’ whacking everyone you like, steal their last $8.50 and throw them in the fuckin’ river, now can ya? Howie was right, though, she still looks good. Real good.
To Be Continued (Maybe)
In The Business
We called Howie, Howie The Pox, because he spends more money on doctors and penicillan than he does on the whores and bars that infect him. If he’d stop descibing the sexual sewer in his underwear every time he contaminates his cock, we would’ve been kinder and named him Mattress Back Howie, or Bareback Howie, or Howie The Little Fat Fucking Steam Engine. But he won’t keep his unhealthy discharges to himself,so, fuck him, he’s Howie“The Pox”
Sunday. 11am. Jesters Cafe
My business partner is already sitting down and half way through his daily English breakfast when I get there, rivulets of sweat tracing the wheezing fat bastard’s jaw-line before falling off his chin onto the table. In Howie’s defence, Phnom Penh is fucking hot sometimes.
“Saw your ex missus last night.” he says, eyes fixed on his food.
I drag out a chair and sit. “Which one?”
“One that bought The Juice Box.” Howie looks up searching for a waitress and waves one over.“She looks good.”
I’m not interested in talking about my fucking ex. I order two beers from the approaching pair of tits and avoid the topic.
“When we on for?”
“One o’clock. Gonna be alright , Tony. Got the bloke at the airport tucked away just in time. And our fella at the hospital says he can strip twenty grand worth of meds every few months, no problem. Just the two kids drivin’ the shit into Thailand to worry about really”
No, me and Howie The Pox won’t be invited to your kids school to give a fuckin’ careers talk.
Howie stands up and I’m not sure if the stain on his pants is sweat and breakfast, or the blooming signs of another bout of the clap. If the latter, I’m sure I’ll fucking hear all about it.
Sunday 5pm
It only took a couple of hours to split the load kindly donated by the international community into our lorry. The time mostly taken up with identifying everything that had been ordered, like morphine and oxycontin, you know, junkie shit. Two lads are now on their way to the border with our buyer waiting for delivery on the other side. Fact is, half of everything we do like this gets caught, stolen or simply disappears into thin air. It’s part of “The Business” and we expect it to happen. Don’t like it when it does happen, but there it is.
I’m on the balcony of a pub overlooking the river drinking whiskey, it’s my favorite thing to do at this time of the day and has been for twenty years. Yeah, there’s now fuckin’ hipsters to join the hippies, backpackers, smack heads, meth heads and the world’s other pieces of shit strolling below. But that same sun sinks over that same river and the fuckin’ mad house that is Phnom Penh dances along limbering up for the night ahead. A night I'm very much part of.
But you gotta be careful, mind, because Phnom Penh can change a man. Can change the way he thinks, can change the way he acts. Can change the way he sees himself, and how the world sees him. And if blokes like me don’t stay on their game, we’re off down that fuckin’ slippery slope that ends in a whole lot of pain and puss in this place.
Sunday 11pm The Juice Box
Chanthavy owns The Juice Box, but I fuckin’ paid for it. That’s just the way it is. You can’t run around fuckin’ whacking everyone you like, steal their last $8.50 and throw them in the fuckin’ river, now can ya? Howie was right, though, she still looks good. Real good.
To Be Continued (Maybe)
Last edited by Londo on Wed Aug 24, 2016 11:54 am, edited 1 time in total.
"That was probably Londo...He is always shitty." - Marvin
- violet
- Suspicious Little Mad Woman
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Seriously, that engaged me from start to finish and I am not one to gush over what people write on here. More please.
The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled.
- Plutarch
- Plutarch
A couple of (bad) travel stories is all.violet wrote:Londo, have you written a couple of books before?
"That was probably Londo...He is always shitty." - Marvin
I liked the first paragraph.
I kept reading because that was short.
Looking forward the twist about The Business.
I kept reading because that was short.
Looking forward the twist about The Business.
You should state that it's a made up story at the beginning or some of the guest readers my get the wrong idea. Also I find the beginning of the story too gross and unnecessarily descriptive for my taste. Still seems a properly written and potentially interesting adventure story.
- Felgerkarb
- Sir Felgerkarb, Kt Pb
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- Contact:
====================
Why are the gods such vicious cunts?
Where is the god of tits and wine?
Why are the gods such vicious cunts?
Where is the god of tits and wine?
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- MerkinMaker
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Cool, it takes courage to put your stuff out there like that, especially for this audience.
It was good, each paragraph pulled you into the next. I imagine it would be hard going to maintain that pace both for you as the author and the reader for a longer piece.
I know it's early days, but I find when a story is written in the first person I need to like the character or at the very least empathize with them, this guy didn't make a great first impression, but maybe he'll turn out to be a loveable rogue.
It was good, each paragraph pulled you into the next. I imagine it would be hard going to maintain that pace both for you as the author and the reader for a longer piece.
I know it's early days, but I find when a story is written in the first person I need to like the character or at the very least empathize with them, this guy didn't make a great first impression, but maybe he'll turn out to be a loveable rogue.
- Hot_Pink_Urinal_Mint
- I need professional help
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Some nice feedback from starkmonster and I agree. I don't usually like present tense but I think it suits your sub-genre. I'm getting some Charles Bukowski...starkmonster wrote:Cool, it takes courage to put your stuff out there like that, especially for this audience.
It was good, each paragraph pulled you into the next. I imagine it would be hard going to maintain that pace both for you as the author and the reader for a longer piece.
I know it's early days, but I find when a story is written in the first person I need to like the character or at the very least empathize with them, this guy didn't make a great first impression, but maybe he'll turn out to be a loveable rogue.
Keep writing - even if it's only to keep your mind sharp
- vladimir
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violet wrote:Seriously, that engaged me from start to finish and I am not one to gush over what people write on here. More please.
Nice new avatar, violent, but perhaps this would be more appropriate...?
ירי ילדים והפצצת אזרחים דורש אומץ, כמו גם הטרדה מינית של עובדי ההוראה.
- salvajeuno
- I Am Losing It All to the Internet
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HopefullyLondo wrote:To Be Continued (Maybe)
இ லொவெ ம்ய் டௌக்ஹ்டெர்ஸ் மொரெ தன் அன்ய்தின்க் இன் தெ வொர்ல்ட்