Frank had access to a time machine.
Some of us do, said Max.
Well I'm not bullshitting you mate.
It's got no bells and whistles but does the job, continued Frank, care to go back some?
Max was game.
'It might get our juices running, who knows, we might be able to alter the fabric of time.'
Not sure if that's possible, replied Max, 'but we can definitely tell people where they have gone wrong before they get a belly full of shrapnel.'
It was a voyeuristic game of sorts and Frank and Max just vanished, to a point of time that Frank thought was interesting: Bangkok, 1985.
If you can't bond with someone during some good quality time travel, then when can you bond?
'Whore houses are fun,' said Max who was ducking.
Fuck a duck, said Frank, they are out to kill us.
No, said Max, who dragged Frank with him behind a car which protected them from ricocheting bullets.
In the background, somewhere near the tank parked next to the gate of the radio station, they could hear a Thai screaming, 'Yut gawrn.'
'That means stop the fucking shooting for you Thai illiterates,' explained Frank.
A man with bright yellow socks that said SHOOT ME was filming a tank firing rounds. And a Thai soldier on the tank was firing a very big gun. They were live rounds too.
Bullets were spraying all over the place, and the guy with the yellow socks kept on filming, in the open. He didn't have a care in the world. I could see that he totally underestimated the situation.
Attached to the cameraman by an umbilical cord, was the sound man.
It was insane.
'They are out to kill that idiot with the video camera,' said Max, who seemed to have heard of the guy. 'He's had eleven lucky years filming in Vietnam, but he failed to use his brain on this occasion.'
See, isn't time travel fun, said Frank who yelled out to the blonde-haired cameraman, 'get the fuck out of there now, you are not only compromising yourself but that soundman, who is going to get shrapnel in his gut too.'
'Mind your own fucking business, 'said Neil Davis.
'This is the kind of arrogance that gets you killed,' said Frank to Max, who seemed to be enjoying the live action.
Neil's colleague, another Australian, who was using a Thai sound man, had the good sense to hide behind a steal box.
Another round of bullets, the sounds were deafening. To be honest, it was exhilarating, to be amongst such deadly force.
But Neil was hit.
His yellow socks were now turning a crimson red.
We both continued watching Neil's colleague drag him to safety, his guts spilling out, from the safety of our position behind the car that was copping bullet holes all over the place.
'So why the fuck wasn't that other cameraman helping Bill Latch who had to drag himself back to safety when it was obvious that Neil Davis was already read,' asked Max.
'I guess you don't think straight under pressure,' I replied.
Neil Davis had filmed his own death and filmed the desperate struggle of his soundman dragging himself back to safety with a gut full of hot lead.
'He'd be dead a few hours later,' said Frank, who loved nothing better than giving a running commentary.
'When you become the news while filming the news,' said Max, 'you know it's time to change professions.'
Earlier in the day Bill had alerted his editor about the coup.
'Dumb bastard,' said Max, 'if he only had of listened to his inner-god of self-preservation, he'd be alive and eating with his Thai family tonight.'
'Always a goody-goody,' said Frank, ' a Thai coup, whoopy do, five seconds of reporting on the networks, and now the guys got a gut full of shrapnel thanks to his megalomaniac cameraman who thought he was fucking superman standing up against the tanks firing hot liquid lead. '
The Thai military wanted that Australian cameraman dead, no doubt about it.
Hindsight was fifty fifty.
Common sense, there wasn't much of it anymore, said Frank, who pressed a button on his time machine, the size of a pen vape, and before they knew it, they were back in the warung where they were having their lunch.
'Bandung,' said Max who shoulder punched Frank, ' it's great to be back.'
'You mean it's great to bareback,' said Frank, who whacked him back just as hard.
'We could definitely use that time machine for some useful research,' said Max who was quite impressed with the gruff middle-aged Australian who reminded him of that Les Paterson character he met when he was working in the Middle East in the '80s.
'Thought you'd be impressed,' said Frank who told him he'd been working on the invention for years with the help of that scientist from Back to the Future.'
Bonding out the way, it was time to hit the whore house.
'Surely we can save a few single mums from poverty's bight by offering some donations for their services.'
'Hell yeah,' said Max, who didn't need much persuading.
He was holding a book.
'Hmm, I've read The Year of Living Dangerously a few times,' said Frank
'We can do better than that,' said Max who threw the book in the dustbin.
'Hell year,' said Frank who thought it wasn't a bad book, 'but it was a real pooper, ' he said to Max, while giving him a high five, 'not enough fucking-the-locals in it.'
Max just let out a belly laugh and a fart and a belch to boot.
He had heard many good things about Frank from both Chris Zisi and Steve Cartwright, and he was proud to say to Frank, 'every fucking word of it was true.'
Some of us do, said Max.
Well I'm not bullshitting you mate.
It's got no bells and whistles but does the job, continued Frank, care to go back some?
Max was game.
'It might get our juices running, who knows, we might be able to alter the fabric of time.'
Not sure if that's possible, replied Max, 'but we can definitely tell people where they have gone wrong before they get a belly full of shrapnel.'
It was a voyeuristic game of sorts and Frank and Max just vanished, to a point of time that Frank thought was interesting: Bangkok, 1985.
If you can't bond with someone during some good quality time travel, then when can you bond?
'Whore houses are fun,' said Max who was ducking.
Fuck a duck, said Frank, they are out to kill us.
No, said Max, who dragged Frank with him behind a car which protected them from ricocheting bullets.
In the background, somewhere near the tank parked next to the gate of the radio station, they could hear a Thai screaming, 'Yut gawrn.'
'That means stop the fucking shooting for you Thai illiterates,' explained Frank.
A man with bright yellow socks that said SHOOT ME was filming a tank firing rounds. And a Thai soldier on the tank was firing a very big gun. They were live rounds too.
Bullets were spraying all over the place, and the guy with the yellow socks kept on filming, in the open. He didn't have a care in the world. I could see that he totally underestimated the situation.
Attached to the cameraman by an umbilical cord, was the sound man.
It was insane.
'They are out to kill that idiot with the video camera,' said Max, who seemed to have heard of the guy. 'He's had eleven lucky years filming in Vietnam, but he failed to use his brain on this occasion.'
See, isn't time travel fun, said Frank who yelled out to the blonde-haired cameraman, 'get the fuck out of there now, you are not only compromising yourself but that soundman, who is going to get shrapnel in his gut too.'
'Mind your own fucking business, 'said Neil Davis.
'This is the kind of arrogance that gets you killed,' said Frank to Max, who seemed to be enjoying the live action.
Neil's colleague, another Australian, who was using a Thai sound man, had the good sense to hide behind a steal box.
Another round of bullets, the sounds were deafening. To be honest, it was exhilarating, to be amongst such deadly force.
But Neil was hit.
His yellow socks were now turning a crimson red.
We both continued watching Neil's colleague drag him to safety, his guts spilling out, from the safety of our position behind the car that was copping bullet holes all over the place.
'So why the fuck wasn't that other cameraman helping Bill Latch who had to drag himself back to safety when it was obvious that Neil Davis was already read,' asked Max.
'I guess you don't think straight under pressure,' I replied.
Neil Davis had filmed his own death and filmed the desperate struggle of his soundman dragging himself back to safety with a gut full of hot lead.
'He'd be dead a few hours later,' said Frank, who loved nothing better than giving a running commentary.
'When you become the news while filming the news,' said Max, 'you know it's time to change professions.'
Earlier in the day Bill had alerted his editor about the coup.
'Dumb bastard,' said Max, 'if he only had of listened to his inner-god of self-preservation, he'd be alive and eating with his Thai family tonight.'
'Always a goody-goody,' said Frank, ' a Thai coup, whoopy do, five seconds of reporting on the networks, and now the guys got a gut full of shrapnel thanks to his megalomaniac cameraman who thought he was fucking superman standing up against the tanks firing hot liquid lead. '
The Thai military wanted that Australian cameraman dead, no doubt about it.
'Bandung,' said Max who shoulder punched Frank, ' it's great to be back.'
'You mean it's great to bareback,' said Frank, who whacked him back just as hard.
'We could definitely use that time machine for some useful research,' said Max who was quite impressed with the gruff middle-aged Australian who reminded him of that Les Paterson character he met when he was working in the Middle East in the '80s.
'Thought you'd be impressed,' said Frank who told him he'd been working on the invention for years with the help of that scientist from Back to the Future.'
Bonding out the way, it was time to hit the whore house.
'Surely we can save a few single mums from poverty's bight by offering some donations for their services.'
'Hell yeah,' said Max, who didn't need much persuading.
He was holding a book.
'Hmm, I've read The Year of Living Dangerously a few times,' said Frank
'We can do better than that,' said Max who threw the book in the dustbin.
'Hell year,' said Frank who thought it wasn't a bad book, 'but it was a real pooper, ' he said to Max, while giving him a high five, 'not enough fucking-the-locals in it.'
Max just let out a belly laugh and a fart and a belch to boot.
He had heard many good things about Frank from both Chris Zisi and Steve Cartwright, and he was proud to say to Frank, 'every fucking word of it was true.'
