The Country from Hell
Wearing a moronic smile on your face, you head in the direction of downtown. Walking down a side-street, you pass Vintage Hostel, the only hostel in the entire city. As though on cue, several young Americans step out the door, laughing and pointing to the sign that reads "Hostel". One of the boys grabs a pretty blonde by the waist and pretends to slit her throat with a pocketknife. He shouts to his friends,
"Hey! Picture Hostel! Hahahaha!" He keeps talking but you can't understand anything else he says.
Suddenly, you get an idea.
"Hey!" you shout, waving boldly at them. "How are you?" Your English doesn't get much better than that.
For a moment they just stare at you, looking at once a little mistrustful and a little amused. You can tell that you are just the way they imagined a Iadian would look: sweaty, unkempt, potentially dangerous. Better not tell them you were just at the University groveling around at the School of Engineering.
A fat ugly boy from the group with big zits on his face motions for you to come over.
"Hey man! be photo Hostel?"
"Hostel!" you shout joyfully," running your finger across your neck. You are playing your part perfectly. You are such a good little monkey.
To your complete surprise, the boy with the knife hands it suddenly to you and motions for you to take his place behind the girl. Before you know it, you have your arm wrapped around her tight abdomen and you can just barely feel her delicate skin under the blade. A shock of excitement runs through you. So easily you could make her bleed. You could fulfill all of their sick fantasies. So easily, you could have your way with her, rip her clothes off and take her right there on the street. What stupidly trusting people. The girl looks back at you and smiles. Her eyes are sweet. Why does she trust you? She shouldn't. She smells like peaches. You smell like piss. Her stupid friend takes the picture under the "Hostel" sign and you let go of her quickly, nearly throwing her away from you for fear of all the things you wish you could do to her. Unattainable American bitch.
Your mind clears and you remember your mission: to get hopelessly drunk.
"Hey!" you shout with goofy animation. "You like drink? I show bar. Perfect!"
They all laugh at you and the guys give you a thumbs-up and before you know it, you are leading their little group into town. You don't really give a shit where you go, so after a little ceremonial wandering, you point towards a bar called Circus. Circus is owned by foreigners and stands out for both its outrageous prices and for its open-air tent with suspended trapeze swings for seats. You order a Bear Beer and then another one, and then another one. Before you know it, it is dark and the group has dispersed with a few people dancing and a few more at the table. You have had the same overzealous smile pasted on for the last four hours and you suddenly realize that your face hurts like hell. You shake your head and are about to order another beer when you see that same blonde smiling at you. She gets up, looks around furtively, and then with one manicured little finger, motions for you to follow her. Your heart gives a leap. What should you do?
"Hey! Picture Hostel! Hahahaha!" He keeps talking but you can't understand anything else he says.
Suddenly, you get an idea.
"Hey!" you shout, waving boldly at them. "How are you?" Your English doesn't get much better than that.
For a moment they just stare at you, looking at once a little mistrustful and a little amused. You can tell that you are just the way they imagined a Iadian would look: sweaty, unkempt, potentially dangerous. Better not tell them you were just at the University groveling around at the School of Engineering.
A fat ugly boy from the group with big zits on his face motions for you to come over.
"Hey man! be photo Hostel?"
"Hostel!" you shout joyfully," running your finger across your neck. You are playing your part perfectly. You are such a good little monkey.
To your complete surprise, the boy with the knife hands it suddenly to you and motions for you to take his place behind the girl. Before you know it, you have your arm wrapped around her tight abdomen and you can just barely feel her delicate skin under the blade. A shock of excitement runs through you. So easily you could make her bleed. You could fulfill all of their sick fantasies. So easily, you could have your way with her, rip her clothes off and take her right there on the street. What stupidly trusting people. The girl looks back at you and smiles. Her eyes are sweet. Why does she trust you? She shouldn't. She smells like peaches. You smell like piss. Her stupid friend takes the picture under the "Hostel" sign and you let go of her quickly, nearly throwing her away from you for fear of all the things you wish you could do to her. Unattainable American bitch.
Your mind clears and you remember your mission: to get hopelessly drunk.
"Hey!" you shout with goofy animation. "You like drink? I show bar. Perfect!"
They all laugh at you and the guys give you a thumbs-up and before you know it, you are leading their little group into town. You don't really give a shit where you go, so after a little ceremonial wandering, you point towards a bar called Circus. Circus is owned by foreigners and stands out for both its outrageous prices and for its open-air tent with suspended trapeze swings for seats. You order a Bear Beer and then another one, and then another one. Before you know it, it is dark and the group has dispersed with a few people dancing and a few more at the table. You have had the same overzealous smile pasted on for the last four hours and you suddenly realize that your face hurts like hell. You shake your head and are about to order another beer when you see that same blonde smiling at you. She gets up, looks around furtively, and then with one manicured little finger, motions for you to follow her. Your heart gives a leap. What should you do?