>> วันนี้ก็เอาเรื่องสั้นที่แต่งไว้ตอนเรียน English Advanced Composition มาลงให้ได้อ่านกัน (เข้าข่ายเอาของเก่ามาหากินอีกแล้วกรู) พอดีมันเป็นงานชิ้น final อะนะ มันก็เลยค่อนข้างจะยาวสักหน่อย ถ้าวันนี้ไม่จบก็ติดตามอ่านได้ในวันต่อไปนะเคอะ (ถ้ายังอยากจะติดตามนะ) อ่านแล้วก็ช่วยคอมเม้นด้วยแล้วกันว่ารู้สึกยังไง ชอบหรือไม่ชอบ ก่อนจะไปอ่านกันอยากจะกระซิบบอกก่อนว่าเรื่องนี้มีเค้าโครงมาจากเรื่องจริงนะ แต่ว่าส่วนไหนจะจริงส่วนไหนจะอิงนิยาย อันนี้เอาไปขบคิดกันเอาเอง ผู้แต่งไม่ขอเม้า 555
>> Today I'm going to put on here my first-ever short story, which I wrote for English Advanced Composition course as a final assessment. The story is a little long so I might have to put the rest on for the next few days. Anyway, before I let u peruse my masterpiece, it should be noted that, although fictional, this story is actually based on a true event. Now, being a professional writer that I am, I'm not going to tell you which part or which character is true, I'll let you figure it out yourself. It's more fun that way, innit?
**All characters written in the following story are completely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental**
FAIR TRADE
The Weekender
It was two in the morning. The street was scattered with different coloured taxis, from traditional blue-red to shiny bright orange. Their red vacant signs glowed in an act of defiance against the illumination of this well-known street. Drivers sat leisurely in their cars, some plucking the stubble from their chins, some whistling to the tunes on the radio. They did not seem to be concerned about prospective passengers who were now parading out of their parties.
After having said goodbye to all my friends and their friends, I walked out of Soi Four. All the dancing and shouting in the deafening Speed had made me thirsty and hungry. I hated it when I had to shout to people I wanted to talk to over the loud music. Then again, if I had wanted to talk, I knew I should have gone to the place next door, The Balcony. That place was ideal for talkers and starers, the latter whose burden was to search for the same meaningful look from surrounding tables or passers-by.
I knew it was unhealthy to eat at such an ungodly hour but my stomach thought otherwise.
I made my way along the pavement. The remaining street vendors had started to close their little shops. A heavily intoxicated young man staggered across the path in front of me, helped along by a sympathetic girl. Luckily, I had not drunk much that night. It was not much fun to get drunk and go home alone. As I approached a chicken rice stall, I saw a group of sweaty men in tight and flamboyant clothes flocking in front of Soi Two. For months, I had been trying to find the cause of this strange phenomenon until Jay, a good, all-round friend of mine, unravelled the mystery and explained it to me the other day.
“I’m goin’ to Soi Two tonight. You wanna come?” asked Jay.
“Nah, I’ve got work to do, besides I don’t wanna be a part of that ritual assembly in front of the soi when all the bars are closed.” I said.
“What?! What the hell is a ritual assembly?”
“Well,” I cleared my throat, “those guys in front of Soi Two, they seem to be flocking together like a herd of animals just after two a.m.”
Jay grinned, “Ahhh, you mean them,” and continued, “Well, some of them are just like us, normal gay men trying to find the love of their lives but always ending up finding the love of one night, and some of them are there to do business.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper for the last word.
Jay’s answer was not clear to me so I said, “What you mean? Are they selling something, porn vcd’s, drugs?”
“Stop being silly and pretending to be so naïve. You’re starting to sound like Oliver Twist.” Jay mentioned the novel we studied last term. “Of course they’re selling somethin’.” Jay paused and looked at me cunningly then said, “Their bodies.”
The thought of these young men doing it with some repulsive, drooling farangs for money disgusted me. Even though I knew they only did it out of necessity, I failed to understand why they hustled as there were many other jobs that they could do. I decided to leave the scene and stopped at 7-Eleven instead and took home some dried, wrinkled sausages and instant noodles.
I woke up the next morning feeling tired from the previous night. It was two in the afternoon. Fortunately it was Saturday. I liked Saturdays because I could lie in as long as I wanted. The beauty of living alone was that nobody could tell you what to do. My weekend breakfast was usually some time after twelve. I was still lying in bed, when the phone buzzed and rang somewhere under the pillow. I uncovered the phone, checking who was calling. It was Jay.
It was two in the morning. The street was scattered with different coloured taxis, from traditional blue-red to shiny bright orange. Their red vacant signs glowed in an act of defiance against the illumination of this well-known street. Drivers sat leisurely in their cars, some plucking the stubble from their chins, some whistling to the tunes on the radio. They did not seem to be concerned about prospective passengers who were now parading out of their parties.
After having said goodbye to all my friends and their friends, I walked out of Soi Four. All the dancing and shouting in the deafening Speed had made me thirsty and hungry. I hated it when I had to shout to people I wanted to talk to over the loud music. Then again, if I had wanted to talk, I knew I should have gone to the place next door, The Balcony. That place was ideal for talkers and starers, the latter whose burden was to search for the same meaningful look from surrounding tables or passers-by.
I knew it was unhealthy to eat at such an ungodly hour but my stomach thought otherwise.
I made my way along the pavement. The remaining street vendors had started to close their little shops. A heavily intoxicated young man staggered across the path in front of me, helped along by a sympathetic girl. Luckily, I had not drunk much that night. It was not much fun to get drunk and go home alone. As I approached a chicken rice stall, I saw a group of sweaty men in tight and flamboyant clothes flocking in front of Soi Two. For months, I had been trying to find the cause of this strange phenomenon until Jay, a good, all-round friend of mine, unravelled the mystery and explained it to me the other day.
“I’m goin’ to Soi Two tonight. You wanna come?” asked Jay.
“Nah, I’ve got work to do, besides I don’t wanna be a part of that ritual assembly in front of the soi when all the bars are closed.” I said.
“What?! What the hell is a ritual assembly?”
“Well,” I cleared my throat, “those guys in front of Soi Two, they seem to be flocking together like a herd of animals just after two a.m.”
Jay grinned, “Ahhh, you mean them,” and continued, “Well, some of them are just like us, normal gay men trying to find the love of their lives but always ending up finding the love of one night, and some of them are there to do business.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper for the last word.
Jay’s answer was not clear to me so I said, “What you mean? Are they selling something, porn vcd’s, drugs?”
“Stop being silly and pretending to be so naïve. You’re starting to sound like Oliver Twist.” Jay mentioned the novel we studied last term. “Of course they’re selling somethin’.” Jay paused and looked at me cunningly then said, “Their bodies.”
The thought of these young men doing it with some repulsive, drooling farangs for money disgusted me. Even though I knew they only did it out of necessity, I failed to understand why they hustled as there were many other jobs that they could do. I decided to leave the scene and stopped at 7-Eleven instead and took home some dried, wrinkled sausages and instant noodles.
I woke up the next morning feeling tired from the previous night. It was two in the afternoon. Fortunately it was Saturday. I liked Saturdays because I could lie in as long as I wanted. The beauty of living alone was that nobody could tell you what to do. My weekend breakfast was usually some time after twelve. I was still lying in bed, when the phone buzzed and rang somewhere under the pillow. I uncovered the phone, checking who was calling. It was Jay.
“Yes?” I answered in a sluggish voice.
“Don’t sound too happy honey,” answered Jay, “ Rise and shine!”
“Oh, bugger off!” I growled.
“Listen, are you listenin’? OK, good. We’re meeting this person in about an hour. He’s a new friend of mine. I met him at DJ a couple of weeks ago.”
“Good for you. But may I ask what it has to do with me?”
“Yup, you certainly may. Remember that conversation we had about those people in front of Soi Two? Well, this person we’re meeting is one of them.”
“So?” I asked him with genuine innocence.
“So?” repeated Jay. “I thought you might be interested since you asked.”
“Well, I was.”
“Whatever. You’re comin’ with me. You can do a lil’ interview with this guy, it’ll be interesting!”
Not needing any further explanation and reasoning, I told him that I would go. Having known Jay for almost four years, I knew him so well I had developed ways to make him shut his mouth without my having to say it directly (not that I was afraid to or anything).
Jay was confident with his homosexuality, sometimes too confident. He would have been the kind of gay person most people imagined gay people to be for he embodied the stereotype so well. He came out to his family when he was about sixteen. I really admired his courage for doing so. I had never told my family but I guessed my mom knew. Jay once told me that “Every mother knows when her son’s gay”. Jay must have really known what he was talking about.
Jay was late as usual. His excuse had always been, “arriving late makes people anticipate you more,” and my response to that had always been, “arriving late makes people want to punch you in the face more”. I was standing under the huge, green logo of Starbucks, waiting for his advent. Fifteen minutes had passed when, from the distance, I saw a man in a bright pink T-shirt with a pink lettering saying “controversial” strutting towards me. It was Jay and he came alone.
“Don’t sound too happy honey,” answered Jay, “ Rise and shine!”
“Oh, bugger off!” I growled.
“Listen, are you listenin’? OK, good. We’re meeting this person in about an hour. He’s a new friend of mine. I met him at DJ a couple of weeks ago.”
“Good for you. But may I ask what it has to do with me?”
“Yup, you certainly may. Remember that conversation we had about those people in front of Soi Two? Well, this person we’re meeting is one of them.”
“So?” I asked him with genuine innocence.
“So?” repeated Jay. “I thought you might be interested since you asked.”
“Well, I was.”
“Whatever. You’re comin’ with me. You can do a lil’ interview with this guy, it’ll be interesting!”
Not needing any further explanation and reasoning, I told him that I would go. Having known Jay for almost four years, I knew him so well I had developed ways to make him shut his mouth without my having to say it directly (not that I was afraid to or anything).
Jay was confident with his homosexuality, sometimes too confident. He would have been the kind of gay person most people imagined gay people to be for he embodied the stereotype so well. He came out to his family when he was about sixteen. I really admired his courage for doing so. I had never told my family but I guessed my mom knew. Jay once told me that “Every mother knows when her son’s gay”. Jay must have really known what he was talking about.
Jay was late as usual. His excuse had always been, “arriving late makes people anticipate you more,” and my response to that had always been, “arriving late makes people want to punch you in the face more”. I was standing under the huge, green logo of Starbucks, waiting for his advent. Fifteen minutes had passed when, from the distance, I saw a man in a bright pink T-shirt with a pink lettering saying “controversial” strutting towards me. It was Jay and he came alone.
To Be Continued...
3 comments:
โอ๊ย ทำไมไม่ลงให้หมดทั้งเรื่องล่ะเจ๊ - -" จะอ่านต่ออออออ
มันเยอะอะแก ค่อยๆ ทะยอยเอาลงแล้วกัน คนอื่นจะได้อ่านด้วยนะค้า
ห่า เป็นภาษาอังกฤษ กูจะรู้เรื่องไหมเนี่ย
555+
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