Part III. The Aussie Creeper

Day two on Ko Pha Ngan was relatively mellow as everyone recovered from hangovers and nursed varying degrees of sunburn. I won the “most sun poisoned” award, but Antonio was truly beat the fuck up after his teeny tiny speedo road rash adventure.

He had spent most of the night at the island med hut, and his wounds were still open and raw.

But regardless of how tore up we all were, there was still scheduled fun to be had.

That night was the Half Moon party, a minor secondary prelude to the Full Moon, organized by the locals to try and squeeze as much out of the “party island” rep as they could. I was chagrined to find out that it was going down on the beach at the bottom of our hill. There was no real way for me to curmudgeon my way out of it.

Like a bell had gone off, the massive influx of party goers poured onto the island and the roads were packed like rush hour with young douche bags in tie dyes and stupid hats.

Jess had arranged for more friends to join us. There was Emmi and Fred, a brother-sister duo in from China, (who I immediately took to) along with Jess’ new boyfriend and a half-dozen coworker acquaintances form Ho Chi Minh (who left no impression at all.)

We slowly rallied around dusk at Bella’s clubhouse. In the corner, lounged a dude I dubbed “the Aussie Creeper.” He was a middle aged, leathery skinned, Australian beach predator that I instantly loathed on sight. I pointed him out to Beth with a scowl and a nod.
She immediately responded “Oh yeah, bet he’s the island coke dealer.”

About 10 minutes later, I looked over and Nancy was sitting at his table, leaning in towards the Creeper, batting her eyes and twirling her hair.

I didn’t see that coming.

Another 10 minutes after that, I looked over and Antonio had replaced her. The Creeper was leaning in towards Antonio, batting his eyes and twirling his hair.

I really didn’t see that coming.

As everyone assembled, it was clear that Antonio had a fuck interest and the Aussie Creeper would be joining us. He shook my hand with an exaggerated bro down vibe and I cringed as I pictured dried saliva on his palms.

The group started making its way down the hill, with Antonio and the Aussie Creeper lagging behind like middle school kids on a summer camp date. Now, I’m almost always guaranteed to grumble and hiss at people, but I truly got a bad feeling from the Aussie Creeper and I told Beth as much.

“Yeah, he’s pretty skeevy, but let Antonio have some fun, he needs a break.”
We turned around to look back at them and Antonio made a cock-suck gesture with his hand & mouth, then pointed at the Aussie Creeper with an exaggerated wink.

Beth grinned back with two thumbs up.

We pushed through the party and moved down onto the beach and huddled by the water. No one was in a dancey mood.

As we ordered up more shitty strong rum buckets, Lauren asked, “where did Antonio go?”

Antonio and the Aussie Creeper were gone.

To be continued…

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I light candles to my holy trinity, Marcel Duchamp, Iggy Pop & William Burroughs. Father, Son, Holy Ghost. I pray to Johnny Rotten (Or Malcolm Mclaren, whoever you believe) I pray to Andy Warhol (Or Andy Kauffman, whoever you believe) I flog myself in the name of Arturo the Aqua Boy because in the end, nothing is ever enough.
I light candles to my holy trinity, Marcel Duchamp, Iggy Pop & William Burroughs. Father, Son, Holy Ghost. I pray to Johnny Rotten (Or Malcolm Mclaren, whoever you believe) I pray to Andy Warhol (Or Andy Kauffman, whoever you believe) I flog myself in the name of Arturo the Aqua Boy because in the end, nothing is ever enough.

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