“Both. Let’s go.”
Somchai stepped into the circle. He was fifty-two years old, had a gut that hung over his belt, and the weary eyes of a man who had seen a thousand man-buns come and go. He pointed at the red plastic gasoline container they were using as a stool. Tuk Tuk Patrol Pickup 5-6 -Globe Twatters- 2023...
Arun wiped his mouth. “Is it the one with the pink wig or the one who thinks he’s a Muay Thai fighter?” “Both
As the tourists scrambled, Arun lit a cigarette. “Think they learned anything?” Tuk Tuk Patrol Pickup 5-6 -Globe Twatters- 2023...
Somchai killed the engine. The sudden silence was louder than the noise.
“No, no,” said a girl with a septum piercing. “That’s for the—uh—the lanterns. For luck.”