THE LOSER

The Sicilian Storyteller

“Instantly Irresistible” read the label on the perfume bottle at a shop in Bangkok. I was, shall we say, drawn here after several misunderstandings with the Sydney Police Department. I called it “gaining a profit”; they called it “pickpocketing”.

Contrary to what the Sydney Police, my parents and my friends all say, I’m not a complete loser – just a partial one. I worked in a book store back home but got canned when I ‘borrowed’ a few dollars from the register. The shop owner called the cops on me, even though “he really liked me and hated doing it”. Then there was the ‘incident’ which brought me here. 

Now I’m washing dishes for a restaurant, just barely getting by. The waitresses, all sisters, live together downstairs in a shoebox of an apartment near the supply room. I sleep on a cot in the basement and use the grungy bathroom – better than nothing. There’s a basement window which I crawl through when I get home late and the restaurant is closed. Only the owner and the eldest sister have a key. 

Sometimes when the sisters are working I’ll go downstairs for supplies, take a small detour into that shoebox and help myself to their tip money. I’m wondering – can I be considered a ‘housebreaker’ if the door isn’t locked? 

I have a clandestine girlfriend, too; her name is “Piti”. She’s a cleaner at the shoemaker’s shop nearby. I saw her through the shop window and she looked up and smiled. One dark night after work I waited for her outside the shop and asked if I could walk her home. She agreed but said only half way – her family would not approve. She lives with her parents and 11 siblings. All of what she earns goes to her family. She owns only a few clothes and a ragged cloth pouch.

I surprised her with a bottle of perfume which I found in a moldy wood crate behind the shop. She smiled happily when I called her “my Valentine” and giggled when I asked her to “be my baby“. She slipped the bottle into her pouch. and whispered “thank you, Sam”, which isn’t even my name but that’s ok. No one knows I exist.  

After dark the next night I waited for Piti but she never showed. Disappointed, I skulked home. The same thing happened the next two nights and on the fourth day during my break I glanced in the shoe shop window only to see a different cleaning girl. “Where was Piti?” I wondered, becoming concerned. 

Several days later I overheard the sisters talking. Piti had become horribly sick – an apparent toxic reaction to old perfume from a bottle found in her pouch. She had been in quarantine, but died this morning. 

I was reeling. I did this to Piti! I killed her. She was a perfect angel, the sweetest part of my life. Everything I do hurts someone. In the course of three weeks I’ve gone from petty thief to murderer. Everyone is right. I’m a complete loser. I don’t know how I’m going to live with myself.       

NAR © 2023

44 thoughts on “THE LOSER”

    1. Whoa! After those funny comments that had me laughing out loud, I never expected that diamond! I just closed my eyes and listened to the honey-like tones of Ella; as damn close to perfection as you’re gonna get. Nicely played, Doug. Nicely played! Thanks so much for giving my stuff a read and sharing that vid! Happy Valentine’s Day to you ❣️

      Liked by 1 person

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      1. Totally in agreement.
        Have a Dark Lovely Valentine’s Day, too!
        (Lady D’Arbanville by Cat Stevens playing🖤)

        PS: The local of your story, not so much Bangkok but the northern parts, are very close to my heart…but that’s another story…or photograph!)

        Liked by 1 person

        Reply

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