Delicious Tacos - The Pussy

24 hours earlier I was suspended in the Tanon Strait next to a sea turtle. Warm sighing ocean over coral reefs. You could spend a year looking at one pufferfish. There are a million pufferfish. A million wrasse and clownfish and nudibranchs. Watch out for deadly sea snakes. Back on shore the greatest danger is too many 19 year olds want you to impregnate them.

So who fucking cares that I didn’t get the dog food gig. Except: I need a job now. I need money so I can light my possessions on fire. Go live under a tarp in Negros Oriental. The jungle is warm. The girls all want a long nosed white baby.

I’m sick and it’s not going away. Maybe it’s AIDS, people keep joking. Well maybe it is. If you think I didn’t hit it raw with hookers in the Philippines, you don’t know me. Old expats warn you. Stay away from street girls. They don’t get tested. You don’t know how old they are. You’re caught in a room with an underage girl, you’re going to third world jail, long time. If you think you’re gonna hear that and then not cut to me washing my dick in a rusty garden bucket in a 200 peso per hour motel, jumping up backwards yanking on my pants when a cop blasts his siren to pass someone outside– you don’t know me. I asked if she had a condom. Is OK, she said. I no have a sick. Bad idea but I was malibog.

Angeles. Hookers don’t make you use condoms. They don’t use birth control. They don’t get abortions. They don’t tell you pull out. Single moms mostly. Father’s a local. When he heard about the blessed event he disappeared. Baby’s at home with mom or somebody. Home could be Angeles or it could be fucking Gilligan’s Island. The other johns are old Australians. They wear soccer jerseys and their eyes point in different directions. 2000 pesos gets a girl all night. Six minutes of fucking, nine hours of her murmuring at facebook. Their social media lives are like American strippers. Rage posts at the girl who stole her boyfriend. He’s an aspiring rapper. Gaga, gago she types.

The father’s a local, or he’s a client. Waitress at one of the girly bars was eight months pregnant. Serving swill in a club where every single person smokes 63 peso counterfeit Marlboro reds constantly. Dad was Korean. She’d liked him. He paid $900 for her cherry. They call Koreans 3 3 3’s. 3000 pesos, 3 minutes, 3 inch dick. Metric system for everything but cock size. When he heard about the blessed event he disappeared. Good luck tracking down Mr. Kim. Still, I ask: did you try google. She asks: what is google.

The girl I still jerk off to was deaf. Little beach town. 1800 pesos to bring her to my hotel and cum on her belly after 3 strokes. She couldn’t speak. She could only look in my eyes and smile and squeal like a baby. This made me think she really liked me. Fat belly with a bird tattoo. A kid somewhere. When dad heard about the blessed event he disappeared. After I came too fast we laid around making out. Watched a cartoon called The Amazing World of Gumball. It’s about a cat who goes to school with a retarded Tyrannosaur, a ghost made of paper, and a masked creature with antlers. The cat has a crush on the antler creature. The school was having a dance. Cat couldn’t bring himself to ask antlers to it. I could relate.

I can’t believe I didn’t cum in her. She’d be getting the news now. I’d have disappeared. My son grows up in the jungle. Rooster for a pet. His mother can’t speak but her sister’s English is pretty good. I know because she sold me the deaf girl. He has you until 11:36. She had to make her fingers go 1, 1, 3, 6.

Angeles. Sex tourists. Old white men, there on pensions, there on social security. Young fat men in that Tabasco Sauce branded Hawaiian shirt. Spiky haired men with lizard faces strolling out of an alley with two knobby kneed twelve year olds in tow. They’ve got friends, he volunteers.

Men in clothes so bad that jokes haven’t made it there yet. It’s not Tapout, Ed Hardy. Not fedoras. None of the shit where OKCupid girls say don’t message me if you wear this. Socks with sandals gets close. Crocs. A specific IT worker from Minnesota aesthetic. The Tabasco Sauce branded Hawaiian shirt is the flagship garment of this school. Sports jerseys. Men dressed like Kevin Smith.

And who am I to trash them. I’m there buying pussy like everyone else. Five minutes out of my airport cab in Manila I picked up a street hooker at Kenny Rogers Roasters. First girl I saw whose face was female. Ladyboys are everywhere. Gay culture and trans culture don’t appear to be separate. If you are gay, you dress up like a woman and fuck for money. I asked if she had a condom and she made a confused face. She had a kid. Dad disappeared.

When are you gonna write about this. When I can wrap my mind around it. I swam with the sea turtles. Facefucked a street hooker of indeterminate age who crossed herself and prayed before she put it in her mouth and squealed when I came without warning. I sucked another hooker’s tit while rawdogging her and got a mouthful of milk. I saw tall trees looming out of the rain forest mist above a 200 foot waterfall. Talked to the most open hearted people on Earth. Made friends with smart college kids who wanted to take pictures of me and practice English. I want to help them. Go back and start a business. So does everyone else.

Crushed an 18 year old’s pussy while she screamed in agony and her screams made me cum too fast. Then I did it again. She cost 20 dollars. Per facebook she found a sucker now. Fat man from Finland. I’m proud of her. Watched a cockfight. The poor bird ripped savagely, dying; the ref kept picking him up and dropping him down waiting for him to stand. He just bled out. They left him there a long time while money changed hands. Spoke to God in the jungle. Climbed a streambed miles from nowhere in flood waters, almost died. Almost died many times. Learned how to ride a motorcycle. Almost took it off a cliff, almost took into a truck filled with screaming pigs, into another bike with 3 generations of a farm family on it, old people on the back and babies on the handlebars. Swam out into Subic Bay 200 yards, put my hand on something sharp on a piling and it broke off in the flesh of my palm. I remembered the aquarium display: death from a lionfish sting is slow and agonizing. It was a sea urchin. Later I saw them in the reefs; they’re covered in spikes but they still hide. A good metaphor for something but I don’t know what it is. Talked to sex tourists, sex workers, sex trafficked children, trying to figure out what made the whole thing tick. How can I get those kids the fuck out of there, how can I make money so I can build them a home or something… five years later I’ll come back and fuck them raw. 20 dollars. Manila to Angeles to Olungapo to Cebu to Dumaguete in two weeks. Half the trip was transit, buses through the jungle. They play VHS tapes of Manny Pacquiao fights. Cab drivers ask if you like Manny Pacquiao. Say yes.

I was an openhearted ambassador for my country. I was a degenerate scumbag exploiting poor young girls. For five minutes I was a ”journalist” when I found two 12 year olds kept in a scummy apartment complex with a cat drowned in the pool. Doubtless hired out by an old Australian with eyes pointing different directions. Tried to talk to them about how’d it come to this but they didn’t tell me shit, just gamed me. They kept trying to sell me pussy and I was to afraid to be in a room with them while they did each other’s hair and watched porn. Well who needs an expose of the child sex trade. Everyone already knows. Cinder block sheds half built with tarp roofs, open sewers, weird karaoke huts deep in the jungle made of bamboo. Monkeys. Jungle birds screaming. Everywhere I went the kids wanted me to play basketball.

I need to go back. Warm rain hissing in the coconut palms. The girls. Start a business. I’ll be king of these monkey faced primitives. With the wheel and the sharpened stick I’ll be their god. Impregnate their teens. When the men get surly I’ll point at an eclipse. Tell them I’m eating the sun.