“I still don’t understand why that Aussie writer got 3 years for slandering the king.” Aussie Mike was drunk. Most anyone would be if they drank 20 whiskey-cokes every night for the past three weeks. His words were slurred, but two waitresses at the Pig Pen narrowed their eyes as if a ghost or phi had entered the bar. Thais don’t like foreigner saying anything about the king. Other than good, for he was the father of this nation.

“The King is a god.” Jamie Parker had been brought up in America. His nation hadn’t been ruled by royalty in over 200 years. It was the Land of the Free. They only worshipped superstars.

“To the Thais and no one else.” Aussie Mike’s irreverence was normally covered less treacherous grounds such as racism and illegal aliens. This vein was a threat to everyone within earshot and Jamie hushed the 300-pounder.

“Don’t hush me. I was born a free man.” His claim sounded funny coming from the descendant of convicts.

“You might be.” Jamie never argued with men nearly twice his size. When they fall on you, neither of you can get up. “But the Thais are very touchy about the King and his family, so keep your trap shut or else you’ll be banned from the Pig Pen for the rest of the month.”

“You’re only saying that because I paid my bar bill.” Aussie Mike started off his evenings at the Pig Pen. He liked two of the girls. His nightly tab was around 2000. Other farangs might spend more er night, but Aussie Mike was steady. This month his bill came to 70,000.

“No, I’m saying that because it’s true.” Jamie wasn’t losing the bar because of a big mouth. “I was telling my wife that the Thais have only been in the area for a 1000 years and everyone is part something else; Lao, Chinese, Khmer whatever. I said there is anyone 100% Thai. She looked at me like I had stuck my foot in a plate of food.”

“Thais are a little fierce about being Thai.”

“As well as they should.” Thailand was paradise on Earth some of the time. “But my girlfriend said maybe she wasn’t 100% Thai, but there was one person who was.”

“Who?”

“The King. May he live forever.” The King had given my father-in-law solar panels for his rice hut. You stand up in the beginning of the movies not because of the anthem, but to honor the King, and you certainly don’t say anything untoward to him.

“Amen.” Aussie Mike ordered another round. “Maybe you should get a job with the foreign ministry. They are starting a program to teach farangs about the lese majeste laws. I read about it in the Bangkok Post.”

“I think they have enough people to handle the job.” Jamie’s work permit was for managing a bar and nothing else. “But 15 years for lese majeste is the standard penalty, so that Aussie writer was lucky to get 3.”

“Maybe someone should buy all the books and burn them.”

“He only sold 7.”

“That was 7 too many.”

And that seems to be the truth.

At least for the moment.