Little snakes eat their tails

Phukete Thailand:
I decide to sleep in until twelve. Fuck it. I deserve it. When I finally wake up its hot and muggy in my room. Roll over. Rub one out to the memory of my first girlfriend. The fantasy is foggy and old. Over used. My leather wallet has the same qualities. Worn. Torn. Little pieces of thread hanging from the edges.
Time to shower. Shave. Drink the rest of a warm Chang beer on my nightstand. Tastes flat and slightly like cigarette breath. My head feels better.
Stepping out on my porch I watch the river and the trees and the birds. A long line of Elephants ramble past. White. Fat. Filthy. Tourists. Wearing brightly colored hats and snapping photos with silly grins on their stupid faces. They laugh and giggle. Rocking back and forth with the awkward sway of the giant beasts. Their guides bang small sticks onto the Elephants heads to prod them forward. I feel sick again. This is what we have reduced these land whales too. Maybe one day we will ride Humpbacks and stab their heads with spikes to make them buck and turn. We will own them. We will own all. Dogs and Whales alike.
Drink another beer.
Cheer up.
You’re in Thailand kid. Lets go get some.
I head for the pool; which is immense and sparkling with blue tiles and small inlets. I marvel at it for a moment and then wave to the small group of crew drinking beer under the shade of large yellow umbrellas.
“Bapu! Where have you been?’
“We are going to see a fight want to come?” They are all smiling. Cheerful and young. The beer showing on their pale cheeks.
“A fight? Yes I think I could go for that.” I say, smiling warmly and shaking hands and giving high fives. We have a few more beers under the hot sun and then pile into a van. The drive to Phukete is long and curvy. Mountains and streams pass by the darkly tinted windows. I sip a beer and marvel at the small huts and the poor people that live in them. Some people live with nothing and yet they seem to have everything. Their smiles are constant and slightly irritating. Why are you so fucking happy? I turn the music on my iPod up and lean back. Close my eyes. Dream of a life that is better. Adventure. Sex. Love. Money. Scandal. Knifes and gunshots. I fantasize about something happening. Something dangerous. Little did I know… Baby snakes eat their own tails.
We arrive at the fight arena. A concrete parking lot that looks out of place amongst a world of dirt. Brightly colored tents flap in the wind. English tourists drink beer from clear plastic cups and make snide remarks to their fat sunburned wives. We make our way through the crowd and take a seat on plastic folding chairs three rows from the ring. The air is hot and heavy. Smells of piss and garbage. I miss the taste of sweet perfume on my snout. Drink a warm beer and call for another.
The lady boys are everywhere. Small skirts and high heels. I’m surrounding by women and all of them are men. Drink more beer. Wait for the fight.
The first fight is a small Thai man verse a large white eastern European man. They both wear red trunks, which I find odd. White tape on their ankles and wrists. The crowd cheers for the English man and boo the Thai fighter. Where the fuck am I? I hate this. It’s a show of blood and violence designed to make white European tourists happy. Drink another beer. The two men go at it in the first round. Grappling. Knees flying and smashing rips. Knuckles crushing cheekbones. The sweat and blood blends in very nicely with the smell of garbage and beer. I light another cigarette just as the smaller Thai man takes an upper cut to the chin and falls to the ground.
Out cold.
The crowd cheers.
I feel tired.
Lost a hundred bot.
The celebration ceremony is quick and is shortly replaced by another white fighter and an even smaller Thai boxer. The show is obvious and I am sick of it. fuck this. I’m going to find something real. Find me something that is not a show. Something that blows my hair. Something that makes me feel alive. I’m going to get into trouble.

“I’m going to go look around, check you fellas later.” I say tossing my beer cup on the ground and stepping on it. They nod and wave; their eyes focused on the fight.
“Watch out for lady boys.” I hear one of them shout as I stroll away. Hit the mob like a bat out of hell, strolling and staring. What do I want? The world is my oyster.
“Taxi?” I man in a dirty polo shirt grabs my elbow.
“Sure why not.”
“Where you go?”
“I don’t know. Take me somewhere with no tourists. Someplace that only has locals.” He stares at me with a puzzled look on his mug.
“Only Thai.” I say pointing at his chest. He shakes his head. No. Sigh. I pull out my wallet. Money talks.
I crawl into his sidecar as he starts his engine. He eases into the thick Phukete traffic. I briefly wonder where he is taking me, someplace dangerous. I hope. We head out of town for about twenty minutes. The city fades into the jungle and the darkness becomes overwhelming.
We pull into a dirt parking lot filled with rusty Motorcycles; in the distance I hear dogs barking. Hundreds of them. I pay the man two hundred Bot and then look around. Where am I? He points toward a break in the foliage and a long dark path. Yes.
My feet step lively as I head into the darkness feeling my heart begin to thump. Out of the night a man appears carrying a limp dog across his shoulders. Blood drips from a wound in the animals’ neck. In the moonlight I catch a glimpse of the face. He is crying and weeping quietly. Tears glistening down his cheeks like water splashing on a car window. It is the saddest face I have ever seen. More Dogs bark.
The forest breaks and a dirt clearing is illuminated by two single light bulbs hanging on wires. A group of screaming men with money clenched in their dirty little paws; stand in a loose circle. They all stop and stare at me. Sup white boy? I nod my head and join their circle. The screaming begins again and the money changes hands. The fight is about to begin.
The first dogs are scrawny little mutts that set upon each other with a terrible gust. I scan the eyes of the men watching; they are filled with lust like starving vampires. Spit hangs loosely from their lips as they wave orange colored money and scream. Disgusting beasts all of them. The dogs are bleeding now and the pitch of the crowd reaches a furious and frightening level. I feel sick as I watch the dogs. I want to kill all of these men and take the pups. I want to leave but my feet won’t move. I stare blindly as dog after dog meets a bloody end. I’m paralyzed. I can’t move, stoned on the blood and the rage.
I’m not betting and the energy directed at me is becoming increasingly hostile. Their glances are dirty and Thai swear words are muttered under dirty mustaches. The ringleader of the pack blocks my view and gestures toward the road. He has a small dirty pocketknife in his hand. My eyes follow the blade with interest. I finger my own knife and wonder if I should kill the man. Slitting his throat before he can react. His blood mixing with the blood of the dogs and soaking into the dirt. Nothing would make me happier.
I black out.
When my eyes focus again I’m being pushed toward the road. The dogfights are over and the crowd is scrambling back to the darkness. The smell of gas hits my nose. Turn my head. A child is pouring gasoline from a glass Coke bottle onto the pile of dead dogs. Glancing at his bare feet I see a pile of similar bottles; his feet are stained red from blood. I feel the tears welling up in my eyes. The child looks up and our eyes connect. He smiles and lights a match.
The jungle. Dark and peaceful becomes an inferno of death and fire. I let the crowd push me forward as water bursts from my eyes. I am the man carrying the dog with tears on his face. I am the dog too, dead and bleeding from the neck.
Home now. Sit on my porch and down a bottle of whiskey and smoke cigarettes until the sun rises over the jungle. As the sun hits my face I fall into a deep slumber. Dreaming of glass bottles filled with blood. One day I will forget what I saw. Just not anytime soon……