Bangkok Rules

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Valkyries filled the inside of his car and hung around the outside like a loud mist. He had reconfirmed his status as a god so he was attentively listening to every glorious note of Wagner at full volume. Only Wagner was powerful enough and had sufficient metaphysical depth for the ears of gods whilst instilling the necessary terror in mortals.

His shiny new black Mercedes raced and bounced along the potholed dirt road raising a cloud of dust in its wake. The old man didn’t usually have a heavy foot but he was annoyingly late and the sun’s rise was imminent. He cursed the poor farmers who were out walking to their fields at such an inconvenient and ungodly hour. He was getting careless in his old age. He had never cut it so fine before and he sure as hell was never going to leave it so late again. He had no choice but tolerate the dirt and the gravel that was kicked up by his wheels as they spun for traction. The small stones would leave marks on the perfectly waxed paint and he wasn’t happy about that. The Mercedes was his pride and joy.

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