THE LOLA BOYS ABROAD !

They didn’t quite know how but once The Boys had hit the high life and were living it up on the nineteenth floor of their condominium, they were laid quite low!

Two horribly ill homos in an undersized condo!

T’was not a pretty sight. Paul and Andrew found it sickening.

It could have been the mystery ribs at the night market or the seafood salad which had been served with equal opaqueness. Paul knew he should never order dishes he didn’t recognise.

Especially when that involved the species!

He had never had a whale of a time when it came to seafood and the bowl in front of him had looked nothing more than an aquarium with dressing. He’d forced a couple of tentacles into his gob and attempted to chew. A wave of revulsion washed through him. He was more No No than Nemo when it came to the ocean. At least – eating it!

A day or two later and the shit really hit the fan. 

Worse still the fan was on the ceiling!

Paul had started it, which was not altogether unusual, and Andrew had picked up the crouton and ran with it. Then ran again. And again. And again. And aga….etc!

Till there was nothing left to run.

Thank Buddha they had decided to hole up in the prison-grey tower block in the unfashionable end of town. Even if, unlike Rapunzel, they hadn’t yet been able to let down their hair!

The building – ‘Baan Kian Fah’ on Hua Hin’s outskirts had been suggested to them by a charming Essex boy called Brendon, whom they’d met on the end of the pier. He was quite the expert on living Thai-style. And so Paul and Andrew had ended up up on the nineteenth floor at the edge of things. That didn’t bother them as they appreciated life on the edge and it was preferable being unwell fanned by air con rather than the drifting scent of, shall we say, ‘life’, which had been ever-present on the pier from whence they’d come. 

Plus there was a pool and ‘Ping Pong’. So when the ponging finally ceased they could ping back into life and enjoy all the facilities rather than just the one in their studio.

Paul thought he should add that by ‘Ping Pong’ he had meant actual Table Tennis rather than anything salacious. They were in Thailand after all and sometimes that particular sport could take on an entirely different form. He knew the rumour-mongers of old and didn’t want any old balls flying about even though he and Andrew batted in a completely different direction.

They ventured out one evening after Andrew said he was feeling better and sauntered sweatily along the busy highway to a kerbside eatery. It was excellent as is often the case with establishments that can appear unappetising. It certainly had no kerb-appeal being positioned next to the busy motorway but the ‘little chef’ in his tiny kitchen produced mini miracles. Paul and Andrew wanted to be more adventurous but were only just finding their feet so didn’t want to find any one else’s in their soup! They were keeping it plain – ish! 

Unfortunately the only miracle that evening had been the fact Andrew did not awaken during a violent episode which proved he was not wholly cured. 

A duvet washed and dried later and he appeared much brighter. 

Paul’s complaint was dragging on a bit – much like himself. But he was determined to plough on, even if life felt like trudging through red hot syrup with an angry asp up his ass! 

He still had guts. 

He began a blog – moaning on, wittily, or so he thought, about he and Andrew’s recent malaise. He knew them both to be stereotypical men when it came to illness. Everyone needed to know about it.

When inspiration waned he took a dip in the pool only to be joined by two fat Chinese boys who’d decided freestyle meant splashing each other hard in the face whilst screaming. Paul would have found it charming but these lads were about sixteen.

In stone and age.

They looked to have paddles for hands.

The water was churning and filling Paul’s over-adequate nostrils. He laughed in that horribly polite English way at the two louts who were drowning him. He took several more  gulps of the pool as the human wave-machines were at storm force and then decided to head for dry land. He was feeling somewhat queasy. He still hadn’t found his sea legs and had not been ready for this waterborne Chinese invasion. He collapsed onto his sun-lounger and picked up his phone.

Made in Taiwan.

He let the irony wash over him.

He’d been in trouble before for being too political out east. He’d been nobbled more than once. This time he wanted to be able to get some content out and there was already someone from China on his tail. So when eventually the giant Mermen stopped flapping theirs and clambered from the pool he wrote nothing.

Just thought it!

Actually, Paul imagined they had been asked to vacate by a member of the condo staff, who was no doubt unsettled by the displacement of water, but he couldn’t be too sure as his Thai was rudimentary at best. 

Non-existent at worst.

Suddenly he felt the serpent awaken in his abdomen once again and only just made it to the highly convenient public convenience poolside. Snaking his way rapidly past the thankfully oblivious cleaners he realised the creature hadn’t been charmed quite yet.

It was well and truly alive.

Which was more than could be said for himself.

Paul felt entirely floored. He only hoped he’d make it back to the nineteenth!

And that his insides made it with him!