Job of a Lifetime

At one place, into our fourth day of cycling, at a village I still cannot pronounce, they held Jim and Johnette down, by the side of their toppled bikes, yelling, machetes high, willing to decapitate them both, then the villagers laughed and let us go. We wanted to go home then, but Jim was pissed, “ Fuck these little cunts! Fuck them! “

“ Shut up! “ Johnette shrieked.

Then, they came back, and took us, shoved us to the ground again. Right there in the middle of nowhere.

“ Be cool, “ I told my companions, “ Just be quiet for a moment. “

( Please... ), I said in Vietnamese, especially to the older angry man with the machete above me, his dark face scrunched to kill, and me already having wet myself. ( We will ), from remembering all my uncle Tom's drunken Vietnamese. I was here to teach it, not speak it.

The angry man with the machete yelled, “ We will? We what? “





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