**Headline:** Aerial Spraying Nightmare: Farmers Allege Biological Warfare in Queensland

Back to the dirty part of town.

It was only a move of about forty meters as the crow flies but I can’t begin to tell you the contrasts. 

First there are hookers plying their trade outside my window. 

Secondly, I’m about a forty meter walk to the Long House Hotel. 

I’ve come back into the fold.

Equilibrium has been restored.

Forty meters relocation can make a world of difference, can’t it?

The oppressiveness of a receptionist who doesn’t like you.

She hates my guts, and for very good reason. 

I fucked her over with complaints - she's really now the Employee of the Month -  her drunken Chinese husband won't be harassing customers at the hotel anymore; and I've fucked over the Indonesian cleaner who is a lazy slut - all this and more  has been relayed to the Malay receptionist who loves nothing better than acting on a customer complaint.

My new hotel has rooms on the ground floor. 

My knee is thanking me for it. 

I’ve got a double bed for the same price of a single bed at the last hotel.

Things are really looking up.

The room has a low ceiling, so no swinging cats. 

It’s cosy and clean. 

And the cleaner is a real honey. 

I can ask her to clean my room any time, says the manager.

Can I ask her to bend over too?

Everything is negotiable I suppose and that idea can be explored later.

For now I’m just basking in my new found freedom. 

It was Jeoffrey who prodded me in the right direction. 

He even took me to the hotel.

He has been listening to me moaning for weeks now. 

“Go to bed early, wake up, take a twenty-minute walk and check into the hotel.’ he says.

I missed the walk but followed his other prescriptions.

The act of packing up all your shit and checking out then checking back into another hotel is wholesome. It’s progress. It means I’ve broken a rut of one month. No more listening to the moans of the Down Syndrome kid every morning or the drunks in the evening.

And a month of the  oppressive busy body receptionist just tipped the scales. 

I can’t kill every mosquito in the room just because one annoyed me, can I?

I”m writing again.

A moan or two may creep into it. 

Thanks Jeoffry for believing in me. 

Jeoffrey runs the coffee shop around the corner. He hates Indonesians and would never employ them. 

'Lazy moaning bastards,' he says. 

I knew I could do it. 

I dropped my new clippers while packing up. Fuck em, I’ll buy a new pair. See, the evil spirits were still at my heals.

If the price of getting rid of them was a broken pair of clippers, then so much the better. 

A cool breeze is flowing with optimism on the wind. 

I did it. 

I might even check out the whores outside my window tonight. 

It really could be sooooo much fun. 

I”m staying at the Hoover near the Long House. 

This sounds optimistic. 

And whores?  

Plenty of what I can see but  I’m not jumping to conclusions. 

But I love the idea of a  whore who is good at hoovering at a  longhouse.

It sounds like domestic bliss.

According to Michael West, it’s very doable if you like old Chinese bags.

This is my new hood and you might have picked up some of my enthusiasm for it.

Relocations not only cleanse the soul but offers a refreshing outlook.

I’ll never be locked up in a second-floor hotel where you hear every door slamming and you don’t know who is lurking around from the back exit.

My hotel only has one entrance.

“Crime was up two months ago,’ says Ung the tasty female Chinese manager who looked great in her worn-in denim jeans. I detected hints of voluptuous pears and desire in her shapely ass.  

No problem, I say, ‘I’ll just carry my valuables.’ 

The cleaner gave me a knowing smile.

She had long black hair with those cum to bed blow job lips. 

She knew I wanted to fuck her badly too. 

Though Michael West the erotic writer may not be in town, I’m carrying on his tradition.

He’d be proud of me.