The Buck starts here…

It’s 4.30 am. An epic battle has just been won. Allow me to tell you the story…

I’ve spent this past weekend in Bangkok with my friends Jane & Ruth from my teacher training course. Our main focus? Food. As well as eating at the world’s largest restaurant (see the entry Wet & Large) we have also had curry from an award-winning Indian restaurant, and fresh spring rolls from a Vietnamese joint. Today was the finale. A Sunday Brunch Buffet at the Sheraton Plaza Hotel. We walked into the restaurant there to behold the most amazing spread I have ever seen. There was a carvery. A sushi section. A dim sum table. A Thai curry section. A Chinese area. An Indian area. Fresh seafood. Salads. Breads. Fresh fruit juices made to order. A dedicated pasta chef & 2 assistants to sprinkle basil for him. A cheese table. An ice-cream servery. A desert row. A swing band playing. And on. And on. And on.

Needless to say we were very happy bunnies. My two personal faves amongst all this delightful array of food were the tuna sashimi (raw tuna) & the ostrich meat. Ahhh. Ostrich. A friendly bird that likes to stick its head in the sand. An innocent in a world of guilt and murder. Once again I have sinned against the wild animal kindom. And once again Animal Karma is gonna have to retort…

3am. I’m awakaned by the sound of a pack of dogs howling at the moon. Either that or they’re ripping another dog to pieces. Either way, they’re bloody loud & they’ve woken me up. I get out of bed to use the loo. I open my bathroom door to find a humongous cockroach. Sitting on my bathroom floor looking shifty as if he’s been up to no good. Cock the Cockroach. I quickly shut the door, and search for a weapon. Oh look, there’s that piece of my clothes horse that I dismantled for just such an occasion. I return to the bathroom & open the door. Cock has gone. He’s scarpered. I need to think tactically if I want to catch him. So I turn out the lights & sit on my bed. A good tactician knows the importance of patience. I count to 100 & then turn the lights back on. There he is. On the floor near the window. I move surreptitiously towards him. I swing with my clotheshorse stick. But I’m too slow. 21 years of living as a domesticated mammal has numbed my killer instinct. Cock is under my bed before I can say: “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious”

It’s time for a new strategy. I spray deoderant under the bed. I dont even know if this a useful weapon in my arsenal. Maybe he’s a smelly Cock and he likes the aroma of Lynx Africa. I slide my stick under the bed and move it around in an effort to cajole Cock to move onto open ground. I see him dart out, then sneak behind my backpack which sits in the corner of the room. I vault the bed and crouch in front of the backpack, waiting for him to emerge. Patience. I have a new weapon ready for when he emerges. A rolled up magazine. I spot movement to my right. How has he got there without me spotting him? This time my killer instinct is sharper. I swing hard & low and there’s a cockroach corpse on the carpet. I lean in to examine the body. It’s not humonguous. It’s not even enormous. What we have here is a medium sized cockroach. What on earth is going on? Then I spot movement to my left. Cock has darted back under the bed. The dead cockroach was a decoy. General Cock has sent Corporal Roach on a kamikaze mission to save his own skin. I lift an imaginary hat to my genius adversary and his loyal soldier. And then I sit on my bed to ponder my next move…

Patience. 10 minutes pass and I see Cock dart across the room to my wardrobe. I dart after him. He takes shelter behind the thick wooden panels. I manouevere the wardrobe so that my stick can get behind it. But its not enough. I manouevere it further, turning the whole thing around. I notice a wide alcove at the bottom. Cock must be hiding in there. I deploy two weapons systems: Stick; & Spray – but both prove ineffective against the enemy. Patience. I recall the history of Troy & Leningrad. A blockade is what is needed. Using books, I block off the side routes out of the alcove at the bottom of the wardrobe. When Cock emerges, it’ll be into a carefully laid trap. Patience. After 5 minutes, Cock emerges, see’s the blockades, and promptly runs up the wall and over the pile of books before I can make a move. Excellent play Cock, I think to myself. I’d forgotten the Generals ability to move vertically.

I step back 2 paces & survey the scene from a broader perspective. Cock may have escaped the siege of wardrobe, but he is still trapped behind enemy lines. Patience. 15 minutes pass. My rolled up magazine is locked & loaded. & then General Cock makes his first & last mistake. He advances into open country without air support. Docile Buck is gone. Being up for over an hour in the middle of the night is a great way to quicken your wits & sharpen your reflexes. Wild Buck is here. The magazine comes down on Cock’s head. He’s momentarily stunned, but the General is still alive. The magazine is dropped. A foot is swiftly stomped on it. The battle is over. General Cock is no more.

It’s 2a.m. & I can’t sleep…

The story begins on August 10th when this happened. I thought at the time I was just eating a locust. Little did I realise that I had severely pissed off the entire insect community. Well… tonight they got their payback..

The last few days I have become gourmet cuisine for mosquito’s. Other people’s blood tastes like Lambrini. Mine tastes like Moet. I can’t help the fact that my blood is delicious. It’s just one of those things..

So the insect community started off their payback by sending an army of mozzies on a Buck-Suckin quest. But the Buck is prepared. I have insect repellant, & better yet I have tiger balm. Tiger balm is an ointment made from camphor oil & er, some other stuff. It soothes insect bites. It also helps heal cuts. Oh, & it sorts out muscular aches. In fact there is nothing that tiger balm can’t cure. I haven’t tried amputating a leg and smearing tiger balm on the stump to make it grow back, but I’m willing to bet it would work. If someone else wants to try this then I’ll happily supply a free jar of tiger balm & a congratulatory pack of Rolo’s.

Phase 2 in the (slightly belated) insect retaliation for my consumption of their locust brother took place earlier this evening. I was walking home to the english school from dinner at a friends place. I walk past Mike’s house. Mike, as you may recall, introduced me to the locust back in August. Mike is standing on his porch with a mop outstretched in front of him. He calls me over. Over I go.

“What’s with the mop dude?”

I ask. He points at an overturned bin a few feet away.

“Check out the size of this fucker!”

He replies, as he flips the bin with the mop. A spider the size of Wales leaps out. Mike sweeps at it with the mop and the spider is knocked into the air & out of sight.

I continue my walk home. Upon arrival I chat to some of my fellow trainees for a while, & then I head upstairs to my room. As I’m opening my door I spot a cockroach the size of Cardiff sitting on it. Before I can spin him a spiel about having a headache and not wanting to share my bed tonight, the fucker is in. Ok. No biggie. I’ll just turf him out. Or kill him. It’s neither here nor there. He seems remarkably keen on hanging out however. & then I lose sight of him. I search high & low. I use a hanger to poke behind the cupboard and under the bed. I’m searching for maybe 20 minutes. But I can’t find him. Ok. He must have crawled under the door or through the air vent or something. And even if he is still in the room, I’m the size of Africa. Africa Vs Cardiff. Africa’s got to be the favourite. And Africa’s keeping that hanger close to hand just in case…

I turnn out the light and try & get some sleep. The howling dogs outside aren’t aiding my effort, but I start to drift off regardless. “Hmmmmm“. A low pitched hum awakens me. Where is it coming from? Am I the source of this low pitched hum? Is my bum making a hum? Or my tum? I turn on the lights. You’ll never believe who’s standing next to me. “Where have you been hiding Trevor?” I ask the cockroach as I shoo him out the door with my trusted hanger. I dont want him sneaking back in underneath. So I use some dirty shirts to plug the gap. And that’s when I notice another soldier in the insect revenge squad. Except strictly speaking he was an arachnid. Not as big as Mike’s Welsh visitor. But Brighton sized to be sure. This time I’ve had enough. The hanger gets used in a less benign manner…

So I’d like to take this opportuity to publicly apologise to the locust I ate on August 10th, and to any surviving family members he might have. I have offended against you & your community & I will endeavour in future to eat things of a sufficient size & temperament to ensure I receieve no more nocturnal score-settlers.

So..I'm in the night market in the nearest city, Rayong, wandering up & down the asiles filled with delicious foodstuffs & fake designer shirts & aftershaves. then whaddya know?? There's an insect stall! I can't pretend to be ... [Continue reading this entry]